Yesterday was my travel day here to Georgia for yet another round of training on equipment I need to be familiar with back in Oregon. As is the norm these days (because I leave from Portland), I have a stop in Phoenix before continuing on to Atlanta's airport. As is also the norm lately, I have a long enough layover that I get off the plane and find something to eat. Once boarding was once again imminent, I slowly made my way toward the back of the mob by the gate - and what's with people congregating out in the walkways instead of in the gate? - and once my zone was called, got in line. I let a girl nearby, who was also getting in line, step in front of me. A very cute girl who looked to be about 20. So far, a pretty typical boarding procedure.
And then this episode happened where I got to see just what kind of person I really am, I suppose - or at least verify it, because I've generally thought quite highly of myself. The young girl in front of me suddenly stopped going down the jetway; her bag fell from her grasp, followed slowly by her Mac laptop. And she just stood there. My initial thought was she had just been clumsy, but while reaching down to get her bag for her, it became clear that something was amiss. She was just standing there, a little hunched over, not looking at all at the moment like she cared a great deal about her laptop lying on the ground. When I asked if she was OK, the reply was simple: "No."
And this is where I muddle through the details. She slowly sat down and tried to explain that she faints sometimes, it's not a terribly big deal, but at present she felt a spell coming on and was trying to fight through it. She asked if I had any water, and fortunately I did. I basically sat with her and watched as she seemed to struggle with an oncoming darkness, her grip on my water bottle becoming tighter after every drink. Eventually, she felt OK to stand, and asked me to help her up. That was a mistake - I tried to steady her while another woman coming by asked if we were OK, and my only answer was an honest "I don't know yet." A few seconds later, the poor thing collapsed.
Not violently, mind you. She simply fainted. Of course, this seemed to set people into a bit of a panic, and for some reason, I was completely calm. Perhaps because I knew that really, she was OK, but unconscious and clearly not getting on the plane soon. Between the airline employee who insisted the girl needed sugar in case she was diabetic and the ongoing relays of information on when the EMTs would show up, it was a bit silly. The best I could do was keep her warm and hope for the best. After a minute or two, she started to stir. With some help, she sat up against me and tried to drink orange juice offered to her, but with the same shakiness I had witnessed before she fainted. She kept repeating that she had to make her flight, that she just needed to get home, but by then EMTs were there and with my assistance, got her to her feet and slowly walked back up the runway. I handed her belongings to a concerned-looking gate attendant and was the last passenger to board the plane.
As I sat down, I couldn't help but feel a little adrenaline. It was such an unexpected thing to happen and while it was not a medical emergency, there was a certain sense of having helped someone out when they needed it. The best I could hope for, I figured, was possibly word passed to the flight attendants about her condition, and that maybe I could look her up online and check that she was OK. I mean, I had her name from her bag, but had never gotten around to introducing myself...so how was she to find me?
Deplaning in Atlanta, I was asked to see "Mary" at the ticket counter at the top of the ramp. When I found her, she started to tell me something about "the young woman" but I interrupted her to ask if she was OK. Assuring me that she was, Mary then told me that the girl had asked them to pass on her phone number to me, which was a pleasant surprise. She was on the next flight and would arrive at 9:47, I was told. I assumed, and rightly, that the intention was to properly thank me, as at the time, the girl was really not in a position to do so.
The conclusion of the story is that I've spoken to her, and received numerous expressions of gratitude for my help. When I think about it, I'm not sure I did much except offer what I could, and I'm not being modest - but perhaps these days that's more than anyone expects from a passing stranger. Anyway, here's to new friends, life experiences, and trying to figure out what in the hell to call the feeling I am still enjoying.
(Note: No name is given of the damsel in distress, because I'm not trying to embarass her.)
No comments:
Post a Comment