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I recently came upon this headline in the Seattle Times: “It’s Breathtaking: Entitled Behavior on Flights is Getting Worse”
It went on to say…..
“There’s a societal trend toward selfishness; it’s ‘me-first’ and ‘me-only,’ says Lori Freemire, a Denver-based flight attendant. ‘There’s little regard for the gate agents or crew trying to do their jobs.’ Thomas Plante, a professor of psychology at Santa Clara University, says passengers are becoming narcissists. ‘More and more people think that the world revolves around them and that people should cater to their needs,’ he told me. ‘Frankly, it’s breathtaking.'”
This trends suggests many have forgotten a key fact of life.
We live on the same planet and share the same lifeboat.
- One planet
- One lifeboat
Each of us is born with only one assigned seat and one assigned oar.
Our survival depends upon —
- conserving what we’ve got,
- sharing what have, and
- rowing when called on
AND…
It’s always helpful to make the guy sitting next to you your friend, for you never know when you might need a life preserver thrown in your direction.
I confronted this reality early in my sobriety…
I often attended AA meetings on Seattle’s waterfront. To get there I passed a homeless encampment underneath the old viaduct .
There, I often observed a guy waving at passersby.
I wondered how he got there.
I judged him in need of my pity, not my respect.
Then something happened to change all that…
About a year after I quit drinking my “lifeboat” hit rough waters and threatened to pitch me — and my sobriety — overboard.
I was in trouble.
So on one particular dark, sleepless night I made my way down to a midnight AA meeting on skid row.
I walked in at half past midnight carrying the anchor of my dark thoughts.
- the room was full
- every seat was occupied
You would have thought it was midday.
When I saw who was chairing the meeting I was taken aback. It was the same guy who waved at me from under the viaduct.
Our eyes met and I offered him a congenial wink.
His lead was one for the ages.
He shared the survival story of being in an actual lifeboat.
He had been on a crabbing boat in Bristol Bay in Alaska when the boat capsized.
-
According to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics crab fishing has a fatality rate of about 300 deaths per 100,000 workers, making it one of the deadliest occupations in the U.S.
-
In Alaska alone, where the majority of the U.S. crab fishing takes place, the fatality rate is particularly high, with a significant number of accidents occurring each year.
The crew made it onto a lifeboat at which point they struggled to keep the boat afloat. They each had an oar, but maneuvering in gale force conditions was extremely difficult and dangerous.
Then it happened.
The guy sitting next to him, exhausted and near delirious, was pitched overboard.
He dropped his oar and flung himself to the side of the boat, reached out and grabbed the back of his shipmate’s collar.
At which point all the other men set up a chain, each one holding onto another.
They were able to both steady the boat while also keeping each other from being thrown overboard.
He said it felt like hours, but they were able to pull the man in and finally feel safe.
Because each man did what he had to do they were able to withstand —
- the storm,
- the cold,
- the fear.
He estimated they battled together for the better part of three hours.
As he told his story I couldn’t help but identify with the man who’d been thrown overboard. I felt like it was me who had been hauled back into the boat during that meeting.
When I left the meeting any urge to drink had vanished.
A strange, sublime happiness came over me, a glorious sense freedom, a humble gratitude for what I’d been given that night.
The horrible weight of thinking myself special was lifted.
All I wanted was to find my place on that lifeboat. I learned that I’m entitled to:
- one oar
- one seat
on Lifeboat Earth.
And that’s enough.
Just a thought…
Pat