August 2019
The late Thursday evening Cape Air flight from Boston was remarkable for two main reasons. The first was that I was on a Cessna 402 described by Cape Air as "the workhorse of the Cape Air which serves the majority of the destinations in the Cape Air route network." It is a 9-seater plane which allows you feel every air pocket along the way. The second was that, other than a mom with her one-year-old infant, I was the only other passenger on board. I had noticed the toddler at Logan running around the terminal. His mother was wearing a triathlon shirt and seemed like she would have no problem keeping up with the energetic child.
As we took off, the child started to fuss, refusing to stay in his seat and wanting to alternately breast-feed, point out the window, or cry. "Time for my skills," I thought to myself and played a whole host of silly games including peek-a-boo, blowing in his face, and getting him to give me high-fives. This particular intervention brought him endless joy. My distracting the child seemed to be very helpful to his mother who told me while pointing at her shirt that she had competed in a triathlon the previous weekend and was heading up to the Adirondacks to join her husband and her two other kids. She told me that it had been an impossible day of travel with missed flights and long delays and she was glad it was nearly over. I continued to keep the child distracted while she settled in her seat, relaxed.
"So where are you going?" she asked suddenly.
"I've been invited to teach in Lake Placid at a wellness conference held by the New York Council of School Superintendents," I replied.
"Teaching what?" she continued.
"Skills for teachers. Validation. Distress tolerance. Mindfulness." She seemed interested as long as I was distracting her child.
We landed and entered the terminal at the Adirondack Regional Airport which described itself on its website as "a full service operation offering regularly scheduled commercial flights as well as charter flights and a full service facility for private aircraft." It is located "in the heart of the Adirondack Mountains in Upstate New York."
The three of us and the pilot disembarked. I did not see where the pilot went, but the mother and her child picked up their bags and left the terminal. They were greeted outside by her husband who had driven a Toyota minivan to pick them up. "Thanks for your help with the baby," she said turning to me and then climbing into the car.
I stood waiting for someone to pick me up. This was not a completely ridiculous notion. These days I travel all over the world and someone always picks me up at the airport. On very rare occasions I take an Uber. But no one was there to meet me at the Adirondack Regional Airport.
I tried to call my hosts. I should have paid more attention to the fact that I was "in the heart of the Adirondack Mountains in Upstate New York." This I realize is a euphemism meaning: "There is no cellular coverage here."
I saw a Hertz car rental sign above a door. Three cars were parked in marked bays in the parking lot, but there was no one in attendance. The office -- actually more of a garden shed than an office -- was closed. A sign on the door announced that the office would open at 9 the next morning.
The sun was setting and I had run out of clear ideas. I walked around the parking lot holding my phone in the air and then hopped onto a cement barrier where I found a single, although not very enthusiastic, bar of reception on my phone. I requested an Uber, but the app told me that there were no cars available in the area. I called my hosts. I heard laughter and music and the clinking of glasses in the background: "Hey, Dr. A. Welcome. Hope to see you soon. We have a cold beer waiting for you!"
"No wait! I'm stuck at the airport. Lake Placid is 15 miles away!" I shouted into the cacophony on the other end.
"No worries! We'll send a cab for you! See you soon!"
As I waited, the single employee who had greeted us at terminal left through the front door and locked it. I had never been to an airport where someone locked the front door! Skeptical that my partying hosts would be able to locate a cab, I asked the attendant if there was any way I could get to Lake Placid.
She smiled and said "sure!" She made a call and said "Bob will pick you up in 15 minutes," and then got into her car and left. There was very intermittent cellular coverage. At one moment I received a text from my hosts saying that there were "no cabs available in Lake Placid" at that hour. A few minutes later, "let us know if you find a ride. We're at Jimmy's 21"
I waited and breathed in the glorious air of the Adirondack State Park. All alone. It was not a bad moment. I sensed a stillness that I had not in a while. What joy! I sat on my suitcase looking at the evergreens. They had no trouble just being. I thought of them as as vast army of soldiers fighting against climate change. Grateful.
And then Bob showed up. He was an older man in a large SUV. He welcomed me with a booming Santa-like "welcome to the Adirondacks," and I jumped into the front seat. "First time visitor?" he asked.
"Yes, it's quite beautiful, and certainly vast from what I saw from the plane!"
"6 million acres," he said, almost proudly.
From pickup until the drop-off he spent the next 25 minutes telling me all about the region, the flora, the fauna, the impact of tourism and climate change, his two daughters, one of whom was a physician. He himself had a doctorate in biology and had been the head of the New York State Department of Environmental Conservation for 25 years until his retirement. He had started a livery service after that, but it had become too difficult to manage so now liked to do the occasional ride.
And then we reached Jimmy's 21.
The moments in our life are so rich with nuance and possibility. We spend so much time worrying about all the things that might happen rather than appreciating the moments and lessons of the ones that do happen. "OK, but what if there had not been a Bob?" asked a skeptical colleague.
There are so many "what ifs" in life. I have rarely found it helpful to dwell in them. We certainly need to plan for situations. I imagine that eventually someone would have come to pick me up. They had 150 people waiting for me to lecture the next morning, but "what if" is NOT what happened. By accepting the moment as it was, I had a wonderful opportunity to appreciate being completely alone, in a place I did not know, surrounded by a powerful army of trees. How sweet is that!
The late Thursday evening Cape Air flight from Boston was remarkable for two main reasons. The first was that I was on a Cessna 402 described by Cape Air as "the workhorse of the Cape Air which serves the majority of the destinations in the Cape Air route network." It is a 9-seater plane which allows you feel every air pocket along the way. The second was that, other than a mom with her one-year-old infant, I was the only other passenger on board. I had noticed the toddler at Logan running around the terminal. His mother was wearing a triathlon shirt and seemed like she would have no problem keeping up with the energetic child.
As we took off, the child started to fuss, refusing to stay in his seat and wanting to alternately breast-feed, point out the window, or cry. "Time for my skills," I thought to myself and played a whole host of silly games including peek-a-boo, blowing in his face, and getting him to give me high-fives. This particular intervention brought him endless joy. My distracting the child seemed to be very helpful to his mother who told me while pointing at her shirt that she had competed in a triathlon the previous weekend and was heading up to the Adirondacks to join her husband and her two other kids. She told me that it had been an impossible day of travel with missed flights and long delays and she was glad it was nearly over. I continued to keep the child distracted while she settled in her seat, relaxed.
"So where are you going?" she asked suddenly.
"I've been invited to teach in Lake Placid at a wellness conference held by the New York Council of School Superintendents," I replied.
"Teaching what?" she continued.
"Skills for teachers. Validation. Distress tolerance. Mindfulness." She seemed interested as long as I was distracting her child.
We landed and entered the terminal at the Adirondack Regional Airport which described itself on its website as "a full service operation offering regularly scheduled commercial flights as well as charter flights and a full service facility for private aircraft." It is located "in the heart of the Adirondack Mountains in Upstate New York."
The three of us and the pilot disembarked. I did not see where the pilot went, but the mother and her child picked up their bags and left the terminal. They were greeted outside by her husband who had driven a Toyota minivan to pick them up. "Thanks for your help with the baby," she said turning to me and then climbing into the car.
I stood waiting for someone to pick me up. This was not a completely ridiculous notion. These days I travel all over the world and someone always picks me up at the airport. On very rare occasions I take an Uber. But no one was there to meet me at the Adirondack Regional Airport.
I tried to call my hosts. I should have paid more attention to the fact that I was "in the heart of the Adirondack Mountains in Upstate New York." This I realize is a euphemism meaning: "There is no cellular coverage here."
I saw a Hertz car rental sign above a door. Three cars were parked in marked bays in the parking lot, but there was no one in attendance. The office -- actually more of a garden shed than an office -- was closed. A sign on the door announced that the office would open at 9 the next morning.
The sun was setting and I had run out of clear ideas. I walked around the parking lot holding my phone in the air and then hopped onto a cement barrier where I found a single, although not very enthusiastic, bar of reception on my phone. I requested an Uber, but the app told me that there were no cars available in the area. I called my hosts. I heard laughter and music and the clinking of glasses in the background: "Hey, Dr. A. Welcome. Hope to see you soon. We have a cold beer waiting for you!"
"No wait! I'm stuck at the airport. Lake Placid is 15 miles away!" I shouted into the cacophony on the other end.
"No worries! We'll send a cab for you! See you soon!"
As I waited, the single employee who had greeted us at terminal left through the front door and locked it. I had never been to an airport where someone locked the front door! Skeptical that my partying hosts would be able to locate a cab, I asked the attendant if there was any way I could get to Lake Placid.
She smiled and said "sure!" She made a call and said "Bob will pick you up in 15 minutes," and then got into her car and left. There was very intermittent cellular coverage. At one moment I received a text from my hosts saying that there were "no cabs available in Lake Placid" at that hour. A few minutes later, "let us know if you find a ride. We're at Jimmy's 21"
I waited and breathed in the glorious air of the Adirondack State Park. All alone. It was not a bad moment. I sensed a stillness that I had not in a while. What joy! I sat on my suitcase looking at the evergreens. They had no trouble just being. I thought of them as as vast army of soldiers fighting against climate change. Grateful.
And then Bob showed up. He was an older man in a large SUV. He welcomed me with a booming Santa-like "welcome to the Adirondacks," and I jumped into the front seat. "First time visitor?" he asked.
"Yes, it's quite beautiful, and certainly vast from what I saw from the plane!"
"6 million acres," he said, almost proudly.
From pickup until the drop-off he spent the next 25 minutes telling me all about the region, the flora, the fauna, the impact of tourism and climate change, his two daughters, one of whom was a physician. He himself had a doctorate in biology and had been the head of the New York State Department of Environmental Conservation for 25 years until his retirement. He had started a livery service after that, but it had become too difficult to manage so now liked to do the occasional ride.
And then we reached Jimmy's 21.
The moments in our life are so rich with nuance and possibility. We spend so much time worrying about all the things that might happen rather than appreciating the moments and lessons of the ones that do happen. "OK, but what if there had not been a Bob?" asked a skeptical colleague.
There are so many "what ifs" in life. I have rarely found it helpful to dwell in them. We certainly need to plan for situations. I imagine that eventually someone would have come to pick me up. They had 150 people waiting for me to lecture the next morning, but "what if" is NOT what happened. By accepting the moment as it was, I had a wonderful opportunity to appreciate being completely alone, in a place I did not know, surrounded by a powerful army of trees. How sweet is that!
