Somewhere in the middle of a 40-minute trip that could have – and should have – taken only 30 minutes, I became subconsciously aware of the power of a positive person. My fatigue and frustrations, so prevalent early in the journey, had faded into late-night air, and all seemed right in the world.
And I was in Washington, D.C., of all places! Who know it was possible for everything to feel calm and peaceful in the hotbed of dysfunctional American politics?
The journey to this unexpected destination began with the maps in my mind.
It’s hard to say whether I was born with a keen sense of direction and a passion for maps or if those qualities developed during a career that for decades kept me bouncing from city to city like a ping pong ball in a lottery machine. No doubt the work experiences at least fine-tuned whatever inherently was there.
Regardless, there’s no other way to put it: I’m a map freak. Put your trust in Google Maps, MapQuest, or Waze all you want, but none are more accurate than the hard-wired navigation app between my ears (or so I like to think!).
Because I spent so much time in the real estate investment industry, I not only traveled to cities for meetings but to look at properties we might purchase. And while I really might not rival Google Maps, I do have what I suspect is an unusually strong ability to navigate my way around most major U.S. cities, as well as many in other countries.
My work-related travel schedule has lightened considerably in recent years, but old habits die hard and they kicked into full gear when I arrived in Washington, D.C., for a board meeting that was to begin the next day.
I had spent the day in a meeting in Chicago, and my flight arrived in the nation’s capital at 11:15 p.m. My goal was to end the long day in my hotel bed before it became the next day. But the driver who picked me up at the airport took a route I immediately recognized as longer than necessary. It was a flat fee, so that wasn’t an issue. But I kept wondering why we were going a longer way, especially when construction limited the highway to one lane in each direction.
Then it happened.
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As I began to stew in my internal frustrations, the man behind the wheel with the cotton driving cap on his head began to speak. And before I knew it, we were having the most wonderful conversation you can imagine.
On a good day, I might have played some small role in the delightfulness, but this wasn’t a good day. It was a bad night. So all credit goes to the driver. In a matter of minutes, he won me over simply by being himself – opening up about his life in an authentic and powerful but unforced way.
The quick summary: He was from North Carolina and his wife was from Jamaica. He had moved to Washington 29 years earlier in search of better employment, and he loved his job. He also loved his wife, although he admitted they sometimes struggled to understand each other. Life wasn’t perfect, but he was richly blessed.
“Every day,” he told me, “I’m delighted to be alive. I get up and thank God for my wife and for living.”
There was more to the conversation, but, seriously, what more do you need?
We arrived at my hotel 10 minutes later than I believed it would have taken if we had used the route in my mind, but I hadn’t lost 10 minutes of my life. I had gained 10 extra minutes of insight, wisdom, and inspiration. All because this driver took me on a conversational ride that left two words racing through my mind and off my lips: “Thank you.”
The driver smiled.
“I’m glad you enjoyed the ride,” he said.
If he only knew how much.
