My Turn: A flight that called on our higher selves

It started out as a typical plane ride, notwithstanding the masks on all the passengers. My fellow travelers and I boarded a Southwest Airlines flight bound for Baltimore from Denver. When an early announcement from the flight deck alerted us that the plane was carrying an Air Force veteran home to his final resting place, there was hardly a pause in passengers’ conversations or preparations for the flight ahead. Computers were removed from backpacks, headphones adjusted, books opened and seat belts buckled.

I didn’t give the announcement much thought and settled into my seat, mulling over chores that had to be done when I got home. The flight was uneventful, and there was the usual shifting around once the plane touched down. As we taxied to the gate, the pilot reminded us that a veteran was returning home for the final time. He asked that we all remain seated as a sign of respect until everything was in place outside, and that’s when I realized something extraordinary was beginning.

The plane became very quiet. There was no shifting around, phones remained silent, and not one passenger jumped up to grab a bag from the overhead bins or to stand to stretch his or her legs. After a short wait, we got word that it was OK to stand, and we began deplaning. Again, the plane, and now the jet bridge, remained remarkably quiet.

It was upon entering the gate area that the true magnitude of what was happening became apparent. Baltimore-Washington International Thurgood Marshall Airport is usually a noisy, busy place; passengers are rushing to their gates, grabbing meals or hurrying to the baggage claim area. Today it was different.

Lines of passengers waiting to board were standing at the windows, most with their hands over their hearts, all silent. As my fellow Southwest passengers and I entered the gate area, we joined the queue at the windows, everyone in neat, orderly rows. Even travelers seated in the food court stood and placed hands over their hearts.

We saw that the ground crews stopped their work and stood at attention. The men in the gate area removed their hats. Arrival and departure announcements suddenly ceased.

Together we watched as the color guard snapped to attention and the flag-draped coffin was slowly wheeled between the two rows of the honor guard on the tarmac.

Eventually, passengers began to pick up their bags to continue their journeys. Families gathered their children and left the windows, talking to their kids in soft, measured tones. No one rushed through the gate area, and most glanced back as they slowly moved away.

These strangers, who didn’t know this veteran, his family or one another, recognized the need to act with a sense of duty and respect.

Walking to my next gate, I began to reflect on what I had just been a part of and witnessed. People coming together in a show of support for a family they did not know. People not caring what the person standing next to them believed about science or religion. Citizens putting politics aside. People united in civility. People appreciating the sacrifice that this veteran had made for his country and its citizens.

As I settled into my seat for my connecting flight to Islip, I realized this was the least typical flight I had ever been on. And I was grateful.

Bill Etzel,

Manorville