Often when I fly, my seatmates confuse me with their therapists. I try to stick to my routine of reading a book or listening to my iPod, but once in a while I can’t help myself.
A few years ago, I was flying from Dallas to Frankfurt and I ended up next to a computer programmer. He was straight out of central casting: nerdy-looking, glasses, pocket protector. I could sense that he wanted to chat, and after several minutes of back and forth, he mentioned that he traveled to Europe every week for business.
Before I could even say anything about how hard that must be, he told me that two months earlier his wife of 17 years had left him. He had returned home from a trip, and she was gone. I could sense the hurt and confusion in his voice.
“I don’t understand what I could have done differently,” he kept saying. “Why would she leave me?”
It was obvious that all the travel played a huge role, but I guess he needed an outsider’s perspective. I volunteered some personal information, telling him that the key to my marriage was having common interests, spending time together, communicating – things he clearly hadn’t been doing. He needed balance in his life.
By the end of the flight he seemed a bit more cheery. I think I was the first person he had really spoken to in two months. I still wonder if he took my advice.
My “patients” sometimes show immediate results. I can’t forget the man I met a few months ago on a flight from La Guardia to Austin, Tex. Before we even took off, I could tell that he was going to be a talker. He seemed really anxious and agitated; his hands and legs were bouncing around and he was sweating profusely. I made the mistake of looking in his direction. He blurted out that he was going to visit his fiancee in Houston.
“She’s living with her ex-boyfriend,” he said, adding, in an “I know what you’re thinking” tone of voice, “I’m going to confront them.”
From the looks of it, he had probably learned about his philandering fiancee a few hours earlier. As he told me about the relationship, he began to work himself into a frenzy.
“Maybe she isn’t right for you,” I suggested, trying to calm him. By the end of the flight, he had mellowed out and even agreed with me that it was time to move on. He thanked me, saying God must have put us together on the plane.
“No,” I said, half joking, “blame the airline computers.”
Which is when an older woman sitting behind us, who had heard the three-hour therapy session, tapped me on the shoulder. “Either way,” she said with a smile, “you’re a saint for doing that.”
Doreen Lorenzo is the chief operating officer of Frog Design Inc. of Palo Alto, Calif.
Often when I fly, my seatmates confuse me with their therapists. I try to stick to my routine of reading a book or listening to my iPod, but once in a while I can’t help myself.
A few years ago, I was flying from Dallas to Frankfurt and I ended up next to a computer programmer. He was straight out of central casting: nerdy-looking, glasses, pocket protector. I could sense that he wanted to chat, and after several minutes of back and forth, he mentioned that he traveled to Europe every week for business.
Before I could even say anything about how hard that must be, he told me that two months earlier his wife of 17 years had left him. He had returned home from a trip, and she was gone. I could sense the hurt and confusion in his voice.
“I don’t understand what I could have done differently,” he kept saying. “Why would she leave me?”
It was obvious that all the travel played a huge role, but I guess he needed an outsider’s perspective. I volunteered some personal information, telling him that the key to my marriage was having common interests, spending time together, communicating – things he clearly hadn’t been doing. He needed balance in his life.
By the end of the flight he seemed a bit more cheery. I think I was the first person he had really spoken to in two months. I still wonder if he took my advice.
My “patients” sometimes show immediate results. I can’t forget the man I met a few months ago on a flight from La Guardia to Austin, Tex. Before we even took off, I could tell that he was going to be a talker. He seemed really anxious and agitated; his hands and legs were bouncing around and he was sweating profusely. I made the mistake of looking in his direction. He blurted out that he was going to visit his fiancée in Houston.
“She’s living with her ex-boyfriend,” he said, adding, in an “I know what you’re thinking” tone of voice, “I’m going to confront them.”
From the looks of it, he had probably learned about his philandering fiancée a few hours earlier. As he told me about the relationship, he began to work himself into a frenzy.
“Maybe she isn’t right for you,” I suggested, trying to calm him. By the end of the flight, he had mellowed out and even agreed with me that it was time to move on. He thanked me, saying God must have put us together on the plane.
“No,” I said, half joking, “blame the airline computers.”
Which is when an older woman sitting behind us, who had heard the three-hour therapy session, tapped me on the shoulder. “Either way,” she said with a smile, “you’re a saint for doing that.”
Doreen Lorenzo is the chief operating officer of Frog Design Inc. of Palo Alto, Calif.
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