I don’t fly often. Santa Fe is beautiful, comfortable, familiar, and relatively safe. Flying is the opposite in my opinion, but there are times when it is worth it. One of those times was a recent trip to Boston for a reunion of mediators. I girded myself for all the hazards I could anticipate and set off for the airport, having double-checked my list:  ticket, ID, hearing aids, reading glasses (2), cell phone, cough drops, granola bar – all in place.

What about a book or a crossword puzzle, you ask? Aha, I answer, I am a modern elder. I have podcasts loaded in my cell phone which I can cleverly listen to through my hearing aids. Although it is not as hip as having an ipad or laptop with a thriller or rom com for those mind-numbing miles, it is better than fumbling with the pencil, fussing with the overhead light, not liking the book and being left with nothing to do but stare at the seat in front of me. I couldn’t guarantee the plane would end up in Boston – nose down in a Kansas cornfield is always possible – but I was doing my part for a smooth, trouble-free flight. I was quite proud of myself.

I was eager, in fact, to get going and listen to the rest of a long tale about the first female gondolier in Venice. She was from Austria and on a trip to Venice fell in love with gondoliering, the boats, the city, the water, the songs. She spent many years trying to break into the brotherhood of gondoliers, lugging equipment around, carrying boats, doing all the dirty work, and was finally allowed to take the test. There was much controversy, as you can imagine, and it was rumored that she cheated, or that the test was rigged either for or against her. But she persevered and got her license and one day she launched her own gondola. The waters for her were not calm, but she had customers who enjoyed the novelty and she was happy living out her dream… until a shocking discovery was made.

The plane was airborne and I clicked on the podcast to learn more about the shocking discovery.  The engines were noisier than I had anticipated. I cranked up the volume as high as it would go, but I could barely hear through my hearing aids. A little disappointed that my great plan might not be so great, I comforted myself with the fact that I was hip, wired, digital, virtual, whatever, just like the young executive next to me with earbuds who was watching reruns of The Office.  

I was catching most of the podcast, enough to hear the shocking news that the first female gondolier had been born male! She was a biological male all the time, presenting as female. The flight attendant had just delivered my ginger ale, and there was chaos on the canals. Would she/he/they lose their license? Was this good news or bad news for the brotherhood? And most provocatively, would she/he/they undergo surgery?

As I was reeling from this news, I felt a tap on my left shoulder. I was on the aisle and turned to see a young, be-suited man leaning toward me from the seat behind.

“Excuse me, but do you have head phones?” he asked in a loud whisper. I was about to respond proudly that I was listening through my hearing aids, but he went on. “We can all hear your podcast. Maybe you could listen another way?” 

Oh my god. No wonder I could hardly hear the podcast. Bluetooth was off, hearing aids were not connected, and I was broadcasting to several rows around me. I think the young man wanted to spare my audience hearing further details about the transgender surgery. I looked at the air sickness bag in the pocket in front of me, wishing it were big enough to put over my head, or maybe I would just throw up in it. I didn’t dare look around for fear of making eye contact. How I wished for a Sunday crossword to bury myself in.

As we were de-planing I turned to the man behind me. “I really appreciate you saving me! Thank you very much. That was pretty embarrassing.”

He smiled warmly. “No problem at all. I do that kind of thing for my grandma all the time.”

“She’s a lucky woman,” I said as I lowered my roll-on from the overhead bin and headed down the aisle.  

A couple of months have passed and now I think it is pretty funny. And here are my takeaways:

1. You can’t really help acting your age, so find the good moments, enjoy the laughs.
2. Think how many other people have heard your story by now; maybe even the young man’s grandma chuckled and empathized.  
3. When we’re surrounded by strangers, odds are there is one who will have your back. Be that stranger when you can.