The messenger at 27,000 ft.

It had been a two-hour flight but it seemed much longer. Apparently airline seats were designed by grumpy sadists, the weary traveler thought. Or at least small ones. He was 6’2″ and wished he was about three-feet tall. Crumpled into a question-mark shape and feeling the pain in his back, he leaned his head against the hard plastic side of the plane and tried to sleep.  It evaded him like an escaped prisoner hiding from the law.

He stirred around trying to get comfort without hitting the man sitting next to him. He had a better chance of locking lips with Angelina Jolie. Next to him was a large man who was even larger than him. His big row mate was in his own world and devouring a magazine word for word.  For an hour and a half they sat there trying not to bump into or speak to each other.

The jet pierced the white clouds at 27,000 ft. and then the whine of the engines changed pitch.  The familiar sinking in the traveler’s stomach meant that the plane was beginning its descent.  The flight attendant took his peanut bag and the two men looked at each other.

“How are you?”

“Fine.”

“You live here?”

“Yup.”

The small-talk flowed like water.  And then something unexpected happened: The small-talk turned into meaningful-talk.

It was an amazing conversation about politics, the problems with America, the frustrations of the economy and the hope that this great nation could turn around.

“You know the secret of it all is, don’t you? Particularly with your children.”

“What,” the traveler asked to his now-talkative row mate.

“Love your wife and spend time with your children. Read to them. Throw ball with them. Listen to them. Be a family. Take the time to be in their lives.  It’s all about time and time invested. ”

The traveler sat there stunned. It was wisdom he desperately needed to hear.  For nearly two hours he had sat there in silence only to then get 15 minutes of sage advice.

The plane landed and taxied to the gate. The doors opened and the crowded jet emptied out. The row mate got off the plane first and headed up the jetway.  The traveler fumbled with his bag in the overhead bin and ran after him to thank him one more time and to get his name. But by the time the traveler got to the terminal, his row mate was gone.

Messengers show up in the strangest places and in the strangest ways. And usually, they disappear the same way.