There are some travel days you forget the moment you land… and then there are days where the smallest moment leaves a mark. This was one of those days.
It was a chilly California morning, around 8 a.m.—the kind of cold that lingers in the air long after you step outside. I had booked the cheapest ticket I could find, because when I travel alone on a short two-hour flight, there’s no point in spending extra for comfort.
I ordered an Uber, and a quiet driver from Colombia picked me up. He barely spoke English, and my Duolingo-level Spanish didn’t take me very far either. Between the two of us, the ride was peaceful, almost meditative. A silence that felt earned.
When I arrived at the airport, I checked in my heavy golf bag and paid the $35 that Southwest now charges. I genuinely thought bags still flew free—I guess that slogan is long gone. But I didn’t dwell on it. My mind was already in Washington, where my family had been waiting for a few days.
At the counter, the agent asked if I wanted to upgrade my ticket. I glanced at my “Group C” ticket and smiled.
Short trip + solo travel = no need for upgrades.
I declined and continued to the gate.
TSA was long but manageable, and before too long, I found myself at the boarding area. That’s when the reality hit me:
The flight was fully booked… and I was in Group C.
On Southwest, that’s practically a guarantee that you’ll end up with whatever seat the universe has left for you. Usually the middle one. Usually cramped. Usually between two offensive linemen debating who gets the armrest.
Group A boarded.
Then families.
Then Group B.
With each group called, the waiting area shrank, and so did my chances of getting a decent seat. As a businessman, a packed flight made me genuinely happy for Southwest. But as a passenger… that joy didn’t help me much.
Finally, the moment came:
“Group C, now boarding.”
I scanned my ticket and stepped onto the plane with a mix of excitement and dread. Excitement for Washington. Dread for the seat that awaited me.
Inside, the plane looked full. I found a tiny gap in the overhead bin and squeezed my carry-on inside. Then came the slow, humbling walk down the aisle—a walk every Group C traveler knows well.
And then, unexpectedly, I saw them.
Two young women were sitting together in the exit row—the holy grail of Southwest seating. Extra legroom, no seat in front of the window, and usually taken by those who board early.
I took a chance and asked,
“Is this seat taken?”
To my surprise, they both stood up immediately to let me in.
Curious, I asked one of them,
“Why would you give up this seat? You know this is the best one.”
She smiled and said,
“You’re too tall for the middle seat. I fit perfectly. You take it.”
That simple act of kindness humbled me. In a world where people fight over armrests, she chose generosity without hesitation.
As Thanksgiving approached the next day, I added her to my prayers.
May God bless her wherever she is—for reminding me that goodness still exists in the smallest, quietest corners of life.
Sometimes the best part of a journey isn’t the destination.
Sometimes it’s the humanity you meet at 30,000 feet.
Anthony Ndungu, PhD. MBA, RN
Entrepreneur | Leader | Growth Advocate
CEO, Home Health & Hospice of Kansas | MeadowLark Care Homes | MediCashift Staffing
“We make lives better.”
