Viewpoint

A Lesson from a Layover

Larry E. Patterson, MD From the chief medical editor

Last month I had a layover in Atlanta en route to the Oshkosh, Wis., air show. If you've ever arrived at Hartsfield-Jackson, or any other major airport terminal at midday, you know the concession lines are long and the seating can be sparse. I spied a table for four occupied by a lone man wearing a crew uniform, and I asked if I could join him. He graciously offered a chair, and when I noticed he was a pilot for Delta, our conversation immediately turned to aviation.

Interestingly, he seemed more interested in my small plane exploits than I was in his commercial jet ventures, as he was eager to get back into flying small planes for fun, just as he'd started out many years past. When the Oshkosh air show came up, he asked me if I was headed to Milwaukee, and I told him yes, my flight departed in an hour. “I'm your pilot!” he replied. What are the chances? I'm in the world's busiest airport, there's no room to sit anywhere, and I end up eating lunch with the captain of my next flight.

He left to do piloting things, only to return five minutes later to tell me our gate had been changed to another terminal. What an amazing day — meeting a commercial pilot, finding out he's piloting my flight, and then being saved from missing the connection because he came back to give me the schedule change!

Upon boarding, the captain invited me to hang out briefly in the cockpit, and I felt like one of the boys. Then I made my way back to coach.

As you know, large jets can get a bit stuffy sitting at the gate, but as we took off and climbed, this jet never really cooled. I reached overhead to open the vent, only to discover a trickle of slightly cool air emanating from its tiny orifice. As we reached cruising altitude, despite the outside air being well below freezing, our cabin remained a bit warm — not like when it has been sitting on the airport ramp for five hours with high temperatures, high humidity and smelly people — but just a bit uncomfortable nonetheless.

Midway into the flight, the captain announced that one of the main air units had failed. He apologized, and assured us that our plane would be taken out of service after landing. As I walked off the plane, my pilot friend looked at me with regret and apologized for the heat. I told him not to worry, that I'd had worse. Stuff happens.

On the jetway to the terminal, a Delta representative was handing out small white envelopes, one to each passenger. As I made my way through the terminal I opened mine. It was an apology from Delta for the inconvenience we'd all experienced, with a $50 credit for future flight.

Wow. I know airlines get a lot of grief over delayed flights, lost luggage and cramped quarters. But here's an example where the people involved announced the problem, explained what they would do to fix it, and then surprised us with a “we're sorry for the inconvenience” gift. I went from a passenger who was mildly annoyed about the heat to someone writing an article about how considerate a particular airline was to a small group.

Anything we doctors can learn from this?