Yesterday, I flew home from St. Louis to Raleigh. As I got onto the regional jet (a very small plane), the blonde flight attendant was standing by the open cockpit door, eating something off a styrofoam plate and chatting with the pilot. My initial reaction was to be annoyed, because I think if you're going to be in the service industry, you should do your job well, and that means smiling and being polite no matter who you deal with. Having been in the service industry (food, at least, not quite a flight attendant - though I have considered that as an alternative life path, because in Asia at least it is a well-respected, decently-paying job where you are only any good when you are young and beautiful, but I digress), I expect people to at least smile and express some sort of welcome. It's not that difficult.
My flight was full of middle-aged North Carolinians, eager to fly home. A number of them were also Carolina Hurricane (hockey) fans, and were chatting happily about the game that night against Boston. As the flight attendant came down the aisle to prepare for take-off, she stopped at the seat in front of mine where the man is getting text messages on the score from a friend at the game.
"Now, sir," she said mock-severely, "you should have put that away already!"
This turned into a good-natured ribbing, where the man offered to pay the pilot $1 per update on the game and she laughed and said that he doesn't need the money.
Later in our flight, the captain welcomed us to our flight over the intercom, and threw in a little nod of recognition to the Hurricanes fans on board. It made me smile, because suddenly the flight was much more friendly.
As the flight continued, Missy, the flight attendant, continued joking around with the man in front of me. I began to realize I had misjudged her, because she was actually very nice, and much more personable than many a flight attendant I've come across. She was very attentive while passing out drinks, as well.
Halfway through the flight, the captain announced an update on the game: despite a 2-0 start for Boston, the score was now 2-1. The 'Canes had scored.
The man in front of me pumped his fist. "Yes!" he exclaimed.
And it was about then that I realized I was hiding a smile, and that I liked the Southern mentality of being hospitable, being friendly to strangers, and generally making nice. While I am an excellent Northerner in that I can ignore people sitting next to me except for the briefest "Excuse me", it makes me happy inside when people are more than just polite to each other, but actually friendly. It restores a little faith in humanity, and reminds me that, no matter how much people can plain suck sometimes, people can also be incredible.
So I learned on my short one and a half hour flight last night that I shouldn't make snap judgments about people, or should at least be open to changing my mind and admitting I was wrong about someone. I learned that I like friendly people, and that it generally applies to Southerners (despite my also excellent Northerner gripe about the South; sometimes I pretend to be elitist). I learned that I really do consider North Carolina home. Not just the place I've lived the longest, or the place my family lives, but home. In all its connotations.
The day before that, M and I were talking about New York, and how he loves it because it's busy and alive. He complained that when he goes back to Maryland, there's nothing to do anymore. "Oh," I said, "there's really not that much to do in North Carolina either, when I think about it. But I still love it."
He looked at me. "Well," he said, "that's because it's home."
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