The Legacy of Waiting

When my daughter and I flew to Chicago this summer, we boarded a certain airline known for its open seating policy. I paid a little extra to get us into Group A to ensure we had early boarding and seats together. As we stepped onto the plane, I left it up to my teen to decide where we sat. She didn’t hesitate. She’d done her research. Apparently, the rear middle seat is the safest in a crash. So, we headed straight for the back.

It was a direct flight, so we didn’t have to worry about a connection. The flight was smooth. But the real turbulence came after we landed.

As soon as the plane pulled up to the gate, the usual routine began. The seatbelt sign turned off, and you could hear seatbelts unclicking around us. People rose from their seats, grabbed their bags from the overhead bins, and crowded the aisle.

My daughter shifted in her seat and gave me “the look”. She was clearly itching to stand with the rest of the crowd.

“Let’s just stay in our seats,” I gently told her. “Standing up won’t get us off the plane any faster. Plus, we need to wait our turn.”

She sighed, clearly frustrated with my lack of action. And I got it. I really did. I remember being her age and in a big hurry. My dad was the most patient person I have ever known. If we pulled up to a railroad crossing and a train had stopped, he waited. Even when other cars made a U-turn in search of a different route, he stayed. He was calm and unbothered.

It drove me crazy. “Why don’t you just turn around?” I would mutter from the backseat.

I used to be the same way on airplanes. I wanted to get up and stand with the rest of the crowd, convinced that it would get me off the plane faster. But as I got older, I realized that it was okay to wait. I spent a dozen years teaching kindergartners how to wait for their turn. So, I stayed seated. I waited. And honestly, I felt a little smug about it. I was doing the “right” thing. I was being patient. Unlike those people.

Then, I read an interesting post on social media. Someone had asked, “Why do people stand up as soon as the seatbelt sign goes off?” The comments were full of snark and shared annoyance. I silently agreed as I read—until I didn’t.

One person said they stood because they get painful leg cramps when sitting for long periods. Another stated that as they got older, it took longer to transition from sitting to standing. Someone else mentioned their ADHD made it hard to sit still. Another said they’re claustrophobic and felt like they needed to move.

But the comment that stopped me in my tracks was from an anonymous poster who wrote that she stood up quickly because her mother was dying in the hospital. She was desperate to get off the plane and to her bedside, hoping she wasn’t already too late.

That comment hit me hard.

We don’t always know people’s urgency for getting things done. What looks like rudeness might be grief. What feels like impatience might be pain. What seems like entitlement might be fear.

So now, I still stay seated—but with less judgment and more grace. I’m not great at being patient. My family and colleagues would probably agree.

But I am trying. After all, waiting is a legacy.

My dad would be so proud.