In the beginning I was disgruntled.

I was about three and a half hours into a five-hour layover in Chicago on my way to San Francisco. I’d already begged and pleaded for a better flight to no avail. I’d already wandered through the terminals, read the covers of every bestseller and magazine, and given myself a headache trying on perfumes at the duty-free shop. I was slumped over at the gate, eavesdropping on the woman behind me, who kept smearing oil on her non-plussed friend. She had been taking an aromatherapy class online.

Woman: “Here. I’m just putting a little of this on your temples. It’s called Happiness One. Isn’t that nice?”
Friend: “Uh–”
Woman: “And this one I call Happiness Two. It’s more of a sandalwood blend, I’ll just dab some on your wrists. Don’t you feel happier already?”
Friend: “Well –”
Woman: “I’m going to make it for you in a body lotion once I learn how.”

Just then an official looking person walked up to the podium. You know when an outsider with a badge comes to your gate, he’s got bad news. We all started rummaging for our cell-phones. He gave a little speech, wishing us happy travels and a safe arrival at our destination. Get on with it already! I thought. Quick, like ripping off a band-aid! He did not get my telepathic message. Instead he said he would like to sing us a carol.

The guy had a nice gospel-style tenor voice, and he sang one of those sentimental Christmas songs from the 40’s, “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” I think it was. He was using the walkie-talkie P.A. system for a microphone, crackley and buzzing. He stumbled in a few places but he sounded warm and sincere, and near the end he built the verse into a crescendo that brought tears to the eyes of a few of the people around me. There were a few eye-rollers but almost everyone was smiling, and people had stopped rushing through the concourse to listen. At the end he said, “Thank you,” and walked away as we clapped for him.

Everything was different at that gate– people were sitting up straighter, sharing armrests, chatting to their neighbors. Even the eye-rollers who thought it was corny had more relaxed expressions. All the glaring and hunching over and trying not to let strangers accidently touch you was finished. It felt easier to breathe that dry airport air.

After reading that list of the year’s most looked-up words I’d been feeling down aboutthe state of the world, and how complicated everything is, and how impossible. That employee reminded me how easy it can be to make a change. Well, easy is the wrong word; it definitely took a fair amount of courage (and probably some persuading of his coworkers) to stand up there and sing to a bunch of grouchy travelers through the PA system. Simple is more what I’m looking for. He sang, he said thank-you, and he left. We were different afterwards. His simple gift, freely given, probably had more effect than if the airline had hired a professional quartet to perform the same song. The dis- had dropped away from my gruntled. Thank you, airport guy.