And stop calling me Shirley.

On the flight to Southern California yesterday, I sat next to a woman who found out this weekend (while on a business trip in San Francisco) that she'd lost her house in the tornados in Indiana. LOST HER HOUSE. Literally. According to witnesses she'd spoken to on the phone, the roof was blown off, everything got sucked up through the hole, and her house was ripped off the foundation and carried 300 feet away. She was holding up pretty well, considering she hadn't seen the damage and she had no idea what was still there, where she would stay in the meantime, if she even still had her car...

I walked off the plane marveling at her ability to revel in the fact that she and her husband, and their animals, were not on the property at the time. Instead of getting mired down in the loss and sadness of the whole thing, she was thankful for what she still had. Truly inspiring lesson for us all.

And then on the flight home tonight, I sat two rows up from someone who apparently passed out on the flight. It was really interesting to see the flight attendants react - they were immediately by her side, on headsets talking with (what I guess were) medical assistants, on the loudspeaker asking if there were any medics on the flight. And all the while graciously apologizing to the folks who'd ordered drinks that they were not going to get during that flight.

These events were interesting and inspiring and memorable, but next time I fly can I just have one of those jive dudes in the seat next to me? I can help - I speak jive.