I darted from the concourse into the bathroom at the world’s busiest airport and quickly hit a long line of women waiting to get in as well.
Ahead of me, an older gentleman dressed in a sport coat, button down and slacks stood patiently at the helm of a standard-issue airport wheelchair, looking ahead of him into the bathroom with concern. The chair was empty.
He stayed near the door with the wheelchair as the line moved forward. As I passed him and got around the first corner, I caught my first glimpse of his female companion.
She inched slowly forward on foot toward the stalls, assisted on either side by two strangers propping her up. I couldn’t imagine why they didn’t just help her back to the stalls in the wheelchair, but maybe she was already attempting to walk on her own by the time they got to her. Regardless, they were making it work through the narrow passage.
The woman’s steps were so small it was hard to tell if she was actually moving forward at all. Another woman by the sinks approached her with concern and did a quick assessment of her condition.
“Ma’am, do you have Parkinson’s?” the younger woman asked gently.
The tired old lady replied that no one had ever mentioned it to her.
“I don’t mean to intrude,” the younger woman continued, “but I’m an ER doctor and I’m worried about how you’re moving. I can see from your hands that you may not have it, but please ask your doctor to refer you to a neurologist to get yourself checked out.”
Once she saw the others had the situation under control, the ER doc hurried out of the bathroom with her toddler to catch their flight.
The old woman continued to inch slowly toward the stalls.
As the line grew, she apologized for holding everyone up. We all assured her we were fine, to take her time. We didn’t want her to fall.
The helpers finally got her to a stall with grab bars she could hold. I’m sure she was exhausted, but she managed it.
As I came out of my own stall, I offered to wait for her so that the one young woman still standing nearby could use the restroom herself. But she said she’d already gone; she’d just stayed when she saw this woman needed assistance. How kind.
In the meantime, the older man had maneuvered the empty wheelchair out of the bathroom and waited patiently outside.
I approached him as I walked out to report that his companion was being helped by a small army of women inside. She was washing her hands and would be out soon.
He appreciated everyone’s help, saying “I’ve seen a lot in my 90 (!!) years, but I didn’t think anyone would appreciate me going into the woman’s bathroom with her!”
Then he said a strange thing: “I know how my own wife is, so I assumed she (pointing to the bathroom door) might need to use the restroom before boarding a flight, too.”
Suddently it hit me. The woman in the bathroom wasn’t his wife.
“Oh, you don’t know her?” I asked.
“No,” he replied, “but we’re on the same flight to South Bend, Indiana. I saw her waiting alone in a wheelchair as we got close to boarding time. My wife always needs to go to the bathroom before getting on a plane, so I thought maybe this woman would need to as well.”
But she had no way to get herself there. The airport worker who had wheeled her to the gate was long gone to the next assignment.
So when the older man offered to help her get to the restroom, she took him up on his kind gesture. And when other women saw the woman struggling to walk, they stepped up and carried the baton from there.
The old man noticed the old woman.
He had compassion for her situation.
He connected with her and offered to help.
At age 90 with his own limitations, he could still push a wheelchair across the concourse. So he did what he could do to get the ball rolling. With a little help from others, it was enough.
That’s how you make an outsized impact in the world around you.
