As I waited to board the plane on my way home, I felt more anxious than usual. I had been away from my wife for over a week and a half and I was excited to get back home to see her. I was tired and fairly irritable from getting up early day after day on a tour that seemed like it would never end (please don't hear that as a complaint...I am very thankful for the opportunities I am given). They boarded first class, handicapped, and people with children first, then started in on the rest of us. I was in group two. I usually ask for a seat toward the back of the plane so that I can board first and make sure my guitar gets stowed safely in the overhead compartment or the flight crew's closet. I also ask for an aisle seat because I tend to feel a little claustrophobic on planes. I always feel selfish for being so picky, but my guitar pays my mortgage and I would hate to have a panic attack on the plane. There was, however, a man who was even more anxious to board than me. We had been delayed a little because we were waiting for the sack lunch cart to be placed at the gate so each passenger could grab one as we boarded. He was in the same boarding group as me, but jumped in line before they even called group one, too impatient to wait for his lunch (he asked for one later when we were all seated). I felt like telling him that we all had assigned seats and that his seat would still be there whether he got on last or first. Still, he was persistent and the passive airport employee let him board early. I saw him again a few minutes later as I boarded the plane and walked down the aisle looking for seat 28D...he was in 28E. I knew I was in for some turbulence on this flight.
He took his shoes off and stretched out, unapologetically using both elbow rests and pushing his arms well into the seat space on either side of him. Meanwhile, the man in the seat on the other side of him sat pressed against the window and I leaned into the aisle. Drinks were served and he asked for orange juice and a Coke (the whole can). He concluded his lunch with some light reading: a book titled Dealing With People You Can't Stand. Oh, the irony! I couldn't help but think Hey buddy, the only way a book by that title could attract you is if you were actually irritated by an absurd amount of people in your life. But who is the common denominator here? Perhaps you should take the focus off the other people and ask yourself if, by some small chance, you might be the problem. But I only thought that.
And I thought about it. At times in my life, when I find that a disproportionate amount of people are rubbing me the wrong way, I have to be willing to at least consider that the issue may instead have to do with the condition of my own heart. However, if I am not willing to look within, and instead continue to project and point fingers, then I can be sure the problem lies within me. So I guess I need to rephrase my opening sentence: The problem with my self-centeredness is that all too often I think I am everything but part of the problem. We're human, but taking responsibility for our own attitudes often involves an inhuman amount of humility. So we must rely on a power outside of ourselves to give us that willingness to admit that we are indeed a huge part of the problem. That is exactly what Paul meant when he wrote that God's strength is made perfect in our weakness. Showing weakness is something we all do well. Admitting that weakness is a different story. Our confession is an invitation for God to come into our lives and show his perfect strength. Its the one time we should be permitted to focus on ourselves. Try it. Bite your tongue next time you feel like throwing stones of blame and search your heart for your responsibility in the matter. Then watch God make good on his promises.
Fortunately, I can't paint an entirely bad picture of the man on the plane. For one, it would defeat the purpose of this essay to tell all about how annoyed I was with a certain person, while trying to make a point that we need to be introspective during our periods of irritability, without claiming some responsibility for my own attitude. Believe me, the log in my eye is a big one, and until I pull it out I'm in no shape to be digging around for his. I am sure people have been annoyed with me on many occasions. And I am sure the situation would not have been so irritating if I wasn't looking for something to bother me. Besides, I have to admit that much of what I am writing about the man involves assumptions. The book he was reading could have been an assignment. He could have been a diabetic and needed the extra drink for the sugar. Maybe he was just too big and couldn't pull his arms in any further. And, while I was typing the first draft of this story (about him), he offered to let me use his tray for my drink. So it wasn't all bad. Still, the situation brought up an interesting topic to write about and I felt it was worthy to share.
I would like to say that the man on the plane and I later became friends, but we didn't because he fell asleep while I was writing a story (still about him). At least he didn't snore. It was hard enough to concentrate on my writing with the guy in front of me who was laughing out loud at the DVD he was watching on his laptop. He would rear his head back and let out an ear piercing cackle and his seat would lurch backward and knock my laptop around. It was almost as annoying as his mustache and shiny black shoes. Such a nuisance, I felt, deserved a swift kick to the back of his seat. But I only thought about that, too. Besides, there's a good chance it was my problem. 2/17/04