Best Story Ever 17.1 | Marty Vachon
Frontside 270, Cincinnati, Ohio. [o] Liam Glass
Kindness Still Exists by Martyn Vachon
"Sometimes, in the middle of all that chaos, someone turns around and asks a plane full of strangers to help you"
After the world shut down in 2020, something unexpected happened-snowboarding didn't slow down; it shifted. Street-inspired contests started popping up everywhere. By 2022, things were heating up. Red Bull's Heavy Metal made its return, this time in Duluth, Minnesota. That same year, I was deep into filming-working on Brown Cinema, DC's Hotbox, and linking up with some friends back home: The filming schedule was full, and honestly, I was burning it at both ends. Still, when Heavy Metal came calling, I couldn't say no.
Traveling in 2022 was still a bit of a nightmare. COVID tests, paperwork, and last-minute changes were the norm. My flight to Duluth had three connections, and every layover was tight. I'm not someone who runs through airports, but that day, I ran. I barely made my second flight, boarding dead last. The overhead bins near my seat were packed, so I crammed my bag halfway down the plane and hustled up to my window seat near the front of the cabin. The middle seat was empty. A woman had the aisle.
I'm not much of a talker on planes-she was. Right away, she asked how I was doing. I gave her the rundown, told her I was headed to a contest, that travel had been rough, and that I wasn't even sure my bag would make it to Minneapolis. We didn't chat much after that. I threw on a movie and my headphones, ready to zone out. But she kept checking in. "Are you hungry?" "Do you want a snack?" She had a full inventory in her purse-granola bars, crackers, you name it. I kept politely declining, but she was relentless in the most caring way. Eventually, she took the hint and let it be.
When we landed, I figured that was it-just another strange but well-meaning interaction. But as soon as we pulled up to the gate, she stood up-remember, we were in the front row of economy. Then, without hesitation, she turned to face the entire cabin and said:
"Hello, everyone! This young man is headed to a hey, it makes for a pretty good story to share. snowboard contest, and he's had a rough travel day. If anyone has spare cash to help him out, I'm sure he could use it."
I froze. Straight up blacked out for a second. Meanwhile, my bag was still 15 rows back. So I stood there awkwardly as half the plane filed out, one row at a time-and people started handing me money. First $5. Then another. Then a $10. I tried to say something, but I was honestly too stunned to react. By the time I got to my bag, I was holding a small stack of bills.
I walked off the plane in a daze. The woman and her family were waiting just outside the gate. They smiled, wished me safe travels, and said they hoped l'd, "Find God along the way."
My bag never did make it. I ended up having to stay a night at an airport hotel to wait for it. The next morning, I went on social media looking for a ride from the Minneapolis airport to Cascade Park, where the contest was happening. Jeff Holce immediately shared my cry for help. Jeremy Jones and Brendon Rego reached out and were kind enough to pick me up. Contests were never my strong suit, but that day I walked away with second place and some more cash in my pocket.
Airports are usually a mix of stress, noise, and people just trying to get where they're going. But sometimes, in the middle of all that chaos, someone turns around and asks a plane full of strangers to help you out. Sometimes, they try to feed you every snack they have. And sometimes, they remind you that kindness still exists in the weirdest, most unexpected ways.
To this day, I still don't know why that woman felt the need to do what she did. But hey, it makes for a pretty good story to share. Funny how things turn out sometimes.
This piece was printed in 17.1, and rest assured, it's a better reading experience when you can flip through it with your own two hands. Free subscriptions are available for all Canadian addresses here.