It was 8:45 PM. My wife Amanda and I had just stepped off the plane at Dulles International with our daughter, Logan, half-asleep in our arms. We were exhausted, but happy to be on our final leg home after a family trip to Lake Tahoe. A 50-minute flight to Richmond, and we’d be back home and tucked in our beds. But that’s not what happened.
Our flight to Richmond was canceled, and there was no flight out until the next day at 11am. Amanda and I both had full client loads first thing in the morning, and now we were stuck at Dulles airport with an over-tired 2 year old who was now screaming.
After a fruitless battle with customer service, we realized we had to explore other options to get ourselves home—either rent a car or hire a private shuttle van for the drive back to Richmond airport where our car was parked. The car would cost $250, and the shuttle van was $269. We were completely fatigued at this point, and we figured if we were going to spring for that kind of money, it would definitely be worth the extra 20 bucks to have someone else do the driving! But before we rented anything, we had to find our damn luggage—and that took almost as long as the drive we were about to take back to Richmond!
While the three of us sat on a pile of our suitcases on this muggy August night, delirious and crabby, waiting for our names to be called, a mountain of a man, about 6 foot 9, wearing flowing pants and sandals and a string of wooden beads around his neck, gracefully walked up to us. He had huge hands and a larger-than-life smile on his face—and a light floral scent wafted my way as he spoke to me in a deep baritone voice with a South African accent, “My name is Brian. Let me take care of your family tonight. I’ll get you all home safely, my friend.”
His height was striking, of course, but far more impressive was his generous spirit and overall demeanor—the way he spoke, and even the way he moved. He exuded a sense of well-being and happiness that was palpable and downright infectious. This wasn’t a simple happy-go-lucky attitude; there was peacefulness and a joy about this man that went much deeper—something akin to what I assume the Dalai Lama might possess, and it changed everything for us in terms of how we were feeling.
Brian escorted us to the van, and after loading in our last bag, he rested his giant hand on my shoulder and said, “I have 2 little girls myself, 8 and 10. There is nothing like the love of a daughter for her father. It makes me feel wonderful to be alive every time I see them. Does it not you?” I felt like I was being welcomed into a long lost friend’s private home—and not as a guest, but as a part of his family.
By now it was close to midnight and we were on the interstate. Brian glanced in the rearview mirror and could see the exhaustion on our faces. He turned the radio on and found some soft music, and said to us in his deep voice, “Rest now, my friends. You look tired. Leave the driving to me. I will have you home soon enough.”
I don’t remember falling asleep, but I remember feeling very grateful for Brian.
We all awoke to the sound of Brian chuckling as he pulled into the parking lot of the Richmond airport and whispered, “I hope you slept pleasantly. I need help finding your vehicle.” We giggled and motioned to our white truck in the corner of the lot. “That’s us, way over there,” we told him.
We were just moments away from our journey’s end, and Amanda and I realized we didn’t have any cash for the tip. As Brian began to unload our bags, I told him, “Brian—we’d like to give you a tip, but neither of us has any cash. Would a check be okay?”
“No, my friend,” Brian said. “I do not want your money. It was my pleasure to help you and your wonderful family to get home safely. You can repay me the next time I see you in DC. Have a pleasant evening and enjoy sleeping in your own beds.”
He shook our hands and gave me a hug, and then beamed his brilliant smile at us before returning to his van. He rolled down his window to give us a farewell wave—and drove slowly out of sight.
My wife and I both looked at each other and said, “That was the absolute nicest man I’ve ever met.”
The next day, I was thinking about Brian and about the extraordinary impact he had on us, simply with his kindness and his profound happiness. I was thinking about the interaction, and why I placed so much value on the $269 experience.
Value is a term we frequently hear in the business world. What does it actually mean? Is it some equation we have in our heads to calculate the best bang for the buck? Is it the yard stick with which we measure the benefit of a product or service? Is value based on uniqueness? If someone meets, or perhaps even exceeds, our expectations, is their product or service then deemed exceptionally valuable?
Here’s the thing: This is all very personal and subjective; the value I place on something is not going to be the same for everyone else.
To me, an authentically happy person like Brian enriches other people’s lives with his very presence. And that, to me, is an invaluable and treasured gift to which I personally aspire to give others in MY life.
Note: If the topic of Authentic Happiness intrigues you, here are some recommended readings:
“The Happiness Advantage” by Shawn Achor
“Authentic Happiness” by Martin E.P. Seligman
“Hardwiring Happiness: The New Brain Science of Contentment, Calm, and Confidence” by Rick Hanson
“Happiness: Essential Mindfulness Practices“ by Thich Nhat Hanh
