To Fly

I once had a long layover in Russia, on the way to Cyprus.

The airline was Aeroflot.

The plane was an '88 Camry of the sky.

A regular trashcan on wings.

None of the flight crew spoke English and neither did their newspapers, but given the increasing agitation of my flight attendant, when I didn't comprehend the sounds emenating from behind her scowl; I felt compelled to find a common language.

Clearly, there is an expectation that those who fly out of New York's JFK, into Cyprus, speak Russian.

I read Greek and Cyrillic reasonably well and decided to peruse the paper. As I browsed it, line by line, I realized that I knew a lot more words than I had thought. I felt the information returning. As my competence was affirmed, so was my confidence.

When the flight attendant returned, in a state of preemptive exasperation, I asked her in Russian for coffee and a glass of ice water. Her eyes brightened and I thanked her, in Russian.

I did not have a responsibility to sharpen and recall my language skills at that moment, when I had a big book of cryptograms I could have dealt with instead, but I realized that the knowledge would in no way harm me and would even be to my benefit.

I also realized that the problem here was not exclusive to here.

Fundamentally, the greatest failure in human interactions is catalyzed by a failure in communication. Her frustration was irrational, in that it is never rational to be upset about what is out of your control. But it was also human.

One of the most frustrating things wont to affect the human condition is an inability to communicate. To feel voiceless or unheard or uninformed because there is something so unfathomably intangible and abstract beyond your grasp.

It's been 5 years since I took that trip and I've learned a lot since then. But what I learned then is of lasting importance.

Sometimes, it serves one more to be kind and thoughtful, than it does to be right.