I was waiting to board a plane in Charleston, South Carolina. The airline attendant had called for the parents with small children who needed assistance to begin boarding.
A woman with a middle school-aged daughter began moving toward the gate.
The man standing beside me stepped forward, blocking their path. “She said small children who need assistance,” he barked.
The woman was so startled that she didn’t understand what the man had said. “Excuse me?” she said.
“Only small children in need of assistance,” he said.
“Oh,” the woman said, and she and her daughter stepped back.
Given the nature of the world today, I try not to involve myself in situations like this.
Elysha prefers that I avoid these conflicts, too.
But I was in an airport. The man had been scanned for weapons at security. And if he wanted to fight, I knew I could handle him.
Also, I couldn’t help it. Who barks at a mother and daughter trying to board an airplane? Traveling is hard enough. Adding a child of any age to the mix makes it much more difficult. And I can’t stand to watch a man shout at a woman like that, which is probably tragically heteronormative and maybe even sexist, but I can’t help it. The world is hard enough for women already without some stupid, angry man barking orders at the gate.
Also, I admittedly love a little conflict. All those other reasons are absolutely true, but more than half of my desire to engage was born from my love for battle. My heart was only slightly in the right place.
So with all that said, I injected myself into the situation. “Not your job,” I told him.
It was his turn to be surprised. “What?” he asked.
“Not your job,” I said. “No one wants some random man barking orders at them. Let the gate attendant handle it.”
“Rules are rules,” he said.
“Maybe she’s never been on a plane before. Maybe her daughter has a special need we can’t see. Maybe she misheard the announcement. You don’t know. Let the people in charge take care of it.”
“I wasn’t going to let her board before me,” he said.
“It’s not your job,” I repeated. “The people working the gate can handle it. When you do things like that, you make the world feel unsafe. So stop it.”
Sadly, tragically, depressingly, the man walked away. Stormed off, really. He may have realized that I was gaining steam. Thrilling in the moment. Instead of firing back, he defused the situation by heading toward the gate. I could’ve followed him and continued my verbal assault, but that would’ve meant stepping into the world of lunacy.
I know where to draw the line.
Unfortunately, our entire encounter only lasted a few seconds.
I had been hoping for so much more.
Perhaps I had made the world feel unsafe to him, so he scurried away in fear.
One can hope.
