It wasn’t a day I wanted to spend on my feet serving bleary-eyed business travelers who hadn’t had their start up cup of joe. It was a day I wanted to be in bed, the vaporizer on full blast and a year’s supply of tissues within reach. I had a nasty cold, but had promised my co-worker, Liz, I’d switch days with her. She and her groom were off to Bermuda to celebrate their 25th anniversary. As much as I loved the idea of hibernating under a thick quilt that February morning, I loved Liz more.

It must have been Hug a Grouch Day (is there a card for that?) or the fact the roads had been covered in depressing grey slush, but no one was in a good mood. Perhaps a Flight Attendant Career hadn’t been such a smart move. But as I approached row 22 to take drink orders, a woman about my age was holding a beautiful little girl, who reminded me of my daughter. We chatted and found out both of us had adopted from the same Chinese province. When I put a glass of apple juice on her daughter’s tray, she touched my hand and gave me a smile as wide as the sky. That smile, that tiny hand, made me forget about my cold and lousy day.

The crew treated me to pizza that night. As I turned off my reading light hours later, I remembered a connection to the little Chinese girl who must have known how badly I needed a smile that morning. Its memories like this that make me happy I chose to go to Flight Attendant School.

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