Adventures in Flying with an Addict or Jesus Doesn't Want You to be an Asshole

The other day I was flying home. It might surprise you to know that I’m really more of an introvert; all of the jobs I’ve had require me to be an extrovert so when I’m not working, I tend to be quiet and keep more to myself. I was plugged into a podcast when my seatmate looked over at me and mumbled something. I unplugged, answered his question and plugged in again. And again, he leaned over and mumbled something.

Me: “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
Him: “This is my first flight. I’m on my way to rehab.”

I sighed and knew that I would be engaging with this person the whole flight and was already calculating how long this was going to take. As our plane taxied for take-off, my seatmate shared with me a quick synopsis of his life so far. Four kids, married for 15 years but about to divorce (she doesn’t know it yet), first kid at the age of 17, crack addict, 17 charges against him, born in the south, heading to a $60k rehab in Fort Lauderdale. That’s a lot to accomplish by your early thirties. Heading to rehab? So there’s a super great chance he’s either a little high right now or is in withdrawal. His jitters could be from drugs or nerves or maybe a bit of both.

One of the few things I’m good at is being the cheerleader, providing the pep talk. And here’s a man who is pouring his heart out to me that might just need one. I’m no Nicholas Sparks and hate being sappy, but at the same time, I felt like maybe we were sitting together so that he could hear that he was making the right choice.

Turns out crack addicts do not have a filter. Or maybe they just are really vulnerable. Or maybe they just don’t know social cues and overshare. Look at it however you wish – I thought all three during this 90 minute flight. Robert (we shared names halfway through his flight) couldn’t believe I was traveling alone and wondered if my marriage was on the rocks. Nope, I’m just capable of traveling on my own and someone has to take the kids to school if I’m gone. Robert loves his kids and repeatedly tells me this is for his kids and I agree, as parents, there’s nothing we won’t do for our kids. If the loves of your life don’t motivate you, nothing will.

Since we were flying in a filter free zone, Robert leaned over after we’d had a riveting conversation about cell phone carriers and asked if I believed in God. Nothing like a new topic without a segway. At the same time, that’s what was making this conversation most entertaining – having no idea where the heck this train was headed. And I thought, what an incredibly personal question. And where was Robert on this – he’s southern, isn’t this all they do down there?

Me: “Well, yeah, I believe there’s a higher power. I was raised Catholic but am between religions right now.” 

Robert: “I want to believe but a lot of time I don’t want to believe there’s a God.”

Good Lord. I don’t want to get into a whole religious conversation. I’m not that person. So here’s how the rest of this went.

Me: “I think there are a lot of things happening that are hard to explain and there’s probably something behind them. But I don’t think there’s one right or one wrong religion.”
Robert: “Yeah, I’m sure there’s a God. Right?”
Me: “Well, I don’t think there’s a judgy God up there. I just think that we are all supposed to be good people. Just be a good person and you’ll be fine. Don’t be an asshole. That’s what I think it’s all about, regardless of who you are and what you believe.”
Robert: “I like that. Not a judgy God. I’m a good person. I may not seem like it and I haven’t made good choices, but I’m a good person.”

He says this like a person clinging to a life raft and I realize that this conversation might mean something to him later. Shit.

Me: “Of course you are a good person. Look. We all fuck up. We just have to try our best every day. And some days our best sucks. But the next day we just try again to be a good person.”

Robert is nodding along and I feel this responsibility to not screw this up. Like he needs to know that what he’s done thus far in his life doesn’t define him.

Me: “So just do your best, be a good person and don’t be an asshole. I think if you follow that, you are good.”

Worst pep talk ever. But I realized this is what I believe. I don’t care if you are Catholic, Methodist, Buddhist, Muslim or an atheist. Be a good person and if you aren’t, try harder tomorrow. Maybe it isn’t as complicated as we all like to make it. Stop judging others. If you do believe in God then let him handle that. I feel like Jesus is up there face palming and shouting down “Don’t be an asshole!” (My Jesus swears.) So now I take my own advice. I stop being a pretentious asshole and remember that I’m engaging with a human being. I tell Robert he’s brave for going to rehab, for admitting to his oldest daughter that he is a crack addict, for doing something scary. He nods more and seems to need to hear it. And then our flight lands. I am relieved it is over because I don’t want to screw Robert up. He asks where I’m heading next and then I explain how to find your next gate at the airport. He offers me some sunglasses which I decline. And we disembark.

We bump into each other again at the departure signs and I help him figure out his next gate. He wants me to walk him there and I walk a little ways with him and then tell him the rest is on his own, much like the next part of his life. But that he can do it – he can find his gate, he can handle rehab, he can be clean for his kids. I wish him luck and I mean it.

I have no idea if Robert made it to rehab or if he’ll stay clean afterwards. Fort Lauderdale seems like a pretty stupid place for a rehab center – I’ve watched MTV Spring Break. But even if Robert fucks up again, he gets a new chance to make good choices tomorrow, because isn’t that what it’s really about?