I wanted to post this story for a few years now; not sure why I haven’t before or what’s driving me to post it now. Yeah, it’s a bit sappy, but what the hell. This happened to my brother-in-law, and I was on the same flight so I saw it happen, but couldn’t hear it. He explained all of this to me afterwards firsthand.
My brother-in-law (Jim) is an imposing figure; 6’ 6” tall, about 240lbs. He used to play college football and he even played in a bowl game. We’re both in sales in the telecommunications industry, so we’ve always had to do a lot of traveling. The flier miles build up pretty quickly for guys like that, and getting bumped up to first class isn’t uncommon. On this particular trip we’d been out visiting clients for about a week, and we were both looking forward to the last leg of our flight to Orlando, and then a short drive to get home to our families.
Our last leg was from Dallas (DFW) to Orlando (MCO). After having a couple of drinks at one of the bars, we walked up to our gate about 30 minutes before our flight started boarding, when they called Jim’s name to come up to talk to the agent at the gate. Turns out he’s been bumped up to first class. I wasn’t, but I really didn’t care. It’s only about a 2 hour flight, and I have a much smaller frame, plus a window seat. I don’t have any problems sleeping on flights, so I planned on putting on my headphones and taking a cocktail-assisted nap until we landed in Orlando. Riding up in the shiny seats would’ve been nice though. Big, wide seats and free drinks ain’t a bad way to fly.
Now as anyone who’s flown in and out of DFW can tell you, it’s a major hub for soldiers who are returning from the Middle East for a two week leave, and Dallas is their first stop back in the US from the long flight overseas. It’s kind of a big deal there. I couple hundred soldiers go through the terminal everyday, and people show up to the airport and line up to shake their hands as they get off the plane, to say thanks and welcome home. Veterans, wives, husbands, parents, children, some related, some who just want to show their appreciation. It’s heart-warming to witness.
Back to my story. They start boarding our flight and of course, first class gets priority seating, so Jim gets up to get on the plane, and I make a comment about of how lucky he is not to have to sit back in the unwashed section like us commoners. He just chuckles, and boards the flight. I few minutes later, my zone gets called and I walk up to board.
I’m not sure what type of plane it was, but it was the kind that boards from the front of the plane, so all the coach passengers get to parade through first class to their seats. I’m walking with my laptop bag, and as always happens, the line backs up as you wait for people to stuff their various items into the overhead bins. Jim’s sitting there in the second row, isle seat, drinking an Amstel Light. I chuckle and ask him how the beer is. “Cold,” he replies, “and FREE!” Which he punctuates with a long, deep swig. The bastard. I finally get back to my seat in the 18th row, cram my bag into the bin, and settle in for the flight, thinking how a cold beer would go down quite nicely right about now.
So Jim is sitting there drinking his beer in first class, and he looks up from his Blackberry and sees a soldier standing there, waiting for the line to move so he can make it back to his seat in coach. He was a young kid, dressed in his BDUs, carrying his bags and looking tired. Their eyes meet, and Jim’s always been a patriotic, friendly sort, so he strikes up a conversation with him.
“Where you coming back from?” Jim asks.
“Afghanistan, sir.” The soldier replies.
“Long flight to get here, eh?”
“Yeah. Looking forward to seeing my Mom and Dad, and my girlfriend. Haven’t seen them for 7 months.”
To this Jim smiles and nods, being polite and trying to wonder what it would be like to be away from your loved ones for that long.
“Where are you sitting, soldier?” Jim asks.
“26B, sir,” the soldier answers, “middle seat.” He chuckles and kind of shrugs his soldiers.
Jim thinks for a second and says, “Not today. You’re taking my seat,” and stands up and collects his bag.
The soldier doesn’t know what’s going on. “What?” he says. “What are you doing?”
Jim turns to him, sticks out his hand and says, “Thanks for everything. The drinks are on me.” The kid shakes his hand, still not sure what’s going on, and Jim walks back to row 26 to take the soldier’s middle seat.
At this point, I see Jim walking back this way, but he doesn’t stop at my row to tell me what’s going on, and just walks past to his new seat. I figured there was some mix-up that forced him to give up his seat. It happens.
A couple of minutes later, I hear the familiar DING! and click of the intercom coming on, and the captain starts to go over the typical pre-take off information.
(paraphrasing)
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. As soon as everyone is finished boarding and in their seats, we’ll be on our way to sunny Orlando. Should be a smooth flight; weather looks good, so please relax and enjoy your flight, we’ll be leaving shortly.”
And then the captain finishes with this:
“And to the passenger in 26B who gave up his first-class seat for a soldier returning home from Afghanistan: no sir, the drinks are on ME.” And coming up the isle is the flight attendant, amongst many clapping passengers, with a cold Amstel Light in each hand.
Sorry about the cavities, or if this story made you a bit nauseous. Just wanted to share a good story.
My husband is about two inches shorter than your brother-in-law, and similarly built, so I know he’d kill for a free upgrade like that. I also hope he’d be kind enough to do something similar in his place.