Being a Human

I was at the Frankfurt, Germany airport, looking for my connecting flight to Florence, Italy. I saw an elderly woman speaking with an airport employee. The woman had her boarding pass and passport in hand and was asking for directions to the correct terminal. She seemed worried and did not want to miss her connecting flight.

The employee looked at the documents and asked if the woman spoke English. The woman said, “No. Russian.” The employee said she could not help her and walked away. The crestfallen expression on the woman’s face broke my heart. I walked up and offered to help.

We knew we could not understand each other, but that didn’t matter. I was a good Samaritan, and she was a person in need. We would figure this out.

I motioned for the woman to follow me, and we found different airport employees. A group of young security guards were hanging out. I don’t know what they were doing but they didn’t seem busy. I politely insisted they look at this traveler’s documents. Thankfully, they did, and they directed us to the correct terminal, which was close to the one I was looking for.

I studied at the elderly lady more carefully. She was wearing a thick coat and snow boots. She was perspiring. I told her in English, but also using gestures, “Follow me.”

We walked through the airport and found our way to the bottom floor where customs was hidden away. Every so often, I looked back to make sure the woman was still following me. I tend to walk fast, but thankfully, so did she.  

I found a friendly and useful airport employee who looked at the woman’s passport. The employee tried twice to send me to the European Union line, but I insisted I am American. In today’s political climate, I understand why she didn’t believe me.

The Russian woman went with the employee to find the correct customs line. Then I found my line, which seemed to be taking forever. But what can one do? I got in line and chatted with some lovely women from the East Coast and Colorado who were going on a boat tour of the Mediterranean. Good for them, I thought.

I waited and waited and eventually moved forward in line. I looked around, and guess who I saw: the Russian woman. We were both “non-EU” travelers in the same line.

The woman recognized me. She stared into my eyes. There are no words to fully explain that gaze. I shyly said, “Hi.” She kept staring.

There was respect in this woman’s eyes, and acknowledgement. We were both humans navigating a foreign airport where neither one of us spoke the language. We were both just trying to catch a flight. And I was not going to allow her to fail to get home.

She and I both knew what it means to be human.

No sooner had I been a good Samaritan than I needed one. After customs I was sent up three flights of stairs with my luggage. I had tried to pack light, but that’s not what happened. Ahead of me was a strong, sturdy man with no luggage. He harrumphed and gestured for me to hand him my suitcase. I let him have it with gratitude. Carrying some strange woman’s powder blue case was not his idea of fun, but we were humans trying to get to our gates, and he could see I needed help.

To be human is to help, and to receive help. We are all in this together. I am grateful for the people at Frankfurt airport for reminding me what we are here to do- to be present with each other and for each other.