Column

My friend and I were reminiscing about a trip we had taken together.

It was an official trip we had travelled on, and we had flown to Paris, connected to Nice, to go further to Cannes by road.

Our return included a weekend stopover in Paris, and to make the most of the two days, we decided to take an early morning flight out of Nice.

Little did we realise it meant getting a taxi out of Cannes at 4 in the morning, to be in time for a 5am check in.

The hassles of getting a taxi to agree to the early pickup, and getting our bags packed after a formal, late night dinner, were soon forgotten as we hurled, breathless with tension, through the sleeping, dark countryside to barely reach the airport in time. Of course there were long lines, and by the time we made it to the counter, it was almost time for the check in to close.

The elderly lady however held her hand out for our tickets and passports, and we eagerly handed them out to her.

She looked at the computer, then at the ticket and at the computer again. Then she clicked her tongue. Your names are not there, she said, looking up at us, her brow in a frown.

They are, I said, suddenly fully awake. We have an ‘OK’ booking.

Stories flashed through my mind of agents who put false OKs on tickets to leave their clients stranded in strange airports, waiting for a seat on some flight in the uncertain future. Or maybe we were being offloaded because of cutting it too fine. I decided attack was the best way to tackle the situation. Do please check again, I added, we have confirmed seats.

She checked. Once, and yet again. Aaah she said, and even as we sighed with relief, she added, yes, you were confirmed for … a dramatic pause… yesterday!

My friend and I looked at each other. My deadly date dyslexia had struck again! And I knew we had a non-endorsable ticket; any change meant a 100 euro fine!

Please put us on somehow, we chorused, and the lady lost herself in her comp again. Many negative nods later she looked up. I am sorry, she said, but there are no two seats together on this flight.

We would have at that point agreed to go standing, suburban local style… but we kept straight faces, and said that would be fine thank you, we would settle for the one hour separation from each other.

The tickets were issued and I was wondering whether they would accept my card to pay the fine. ‘Bon voyage’, she said, handing back our passports with the boarding cards.As we thanked her profusely, she wagged her forefinger at us… ‘Next time don’t make this beeg mistake,’ she said.

I am telling you this story because I realised yesterday, as we talked, that the reason we remember the incident is because the lady did us a good turn. She was kind, she used her power to help, saved us a fine, and literally made our day!

Is it not strange that most of the memories we like to share are those of kindnesses done to us? We do remember bad experiences, but by and large, unless they are life changing, we tend to use that miraculous part of the brain that erases memory, to wipe out the details and all the pain that goes with them.

Another friend was telling me how when he was once in a train accident, the first thing his boss did when he learnt of it, was to check on him, and on finding out he was safe, call hishome and inform his wife ofthe fact.

I remember how grateful I was, when on 9/11, failing to get a line to be able to tell my family that I was safe, how relieved I was when a friend from Washington DC called to say she had managed to get through and inform my family, which by then had reached a stage of pure panic.

Yet, we think so seldom of making others feel good. We stint on good deeds, we hold back favours feeling a sense of power. We deny, when we can give without loss to ourselves, we rebuke where we can guide. It’s part of being in the urban rat race, this each one for oneself syndrome, and none of us really escapes it.

We believe reaching where we want to go in the success graph is our ticket to immortality. The simple truth instead is that the more people who remember you for having done something good for them, the greater the blessings you gather. And the greater too, the chances of making it into the list of those few, who will be remembered once in a while at least, with fondness and a suspicious wetness in the eye, long after they are gone!