To the Kind Dad on the Plane Who Recognized My Son’s Autism

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By: Alex Thompson

We landed at Burlington Airport, and at this stage in my son’s life, “The Cat in the Hat” is everything to him. He has the book, the movie, and even a t-shirt. He bolts to the gift shop, insisting I buy him a Cat in the Hat pop-up book priced at $47.95. I give in, thinking it might be the key to getting us through TSA, onto the plane, and to Chicago without a meltdown—though I doubt it’ll work.

As we board the plane, I can feel the stares from fellow passengers, masked with forced politeness. I know they’re thinking, “Oh great, a family. Please don’t let them sit near me.” I can almost hear the flight attendant saying, “Feel free to store your child in the overhead compartment or under the seat in front of you.”

We find our seats, two rows behind the engine. If turbulence hits, it’s going to be a rough ride. My son sits by the window, my wife in the middle, and I take the aisle seat. Then, a laid-back guy, probably around my age, boards. He’s rocking a concert t-shirt and ripped jeans, listening to some 1970s punk rock on his iPhone. This guy is a reminder of who I used to be before fatherhood. He plops down in the aisle seat directly across from me. I feel like saying, “Hey, Cool Dude, you might think you’re going to enjoy this flight, but you’re part of our family for the next 1,400 miles, so buckle up—it’s going to be a wild ride!”

As we take off, I realize planes are not exactly designed with kids in mind. There’s no ball pit, no playground, and while an iPad can distract for a while, it’s not a fix-all. To keep my son occupied, my wife and I take turns walking him from the cockpit to the rear of the plane. We hit turbulence over Buffalo, and it’s time to buckle in. The plane shakes violently; my son starts to whimper as the cabin pressure changes, and then he has a meltdown. He struggles with crowded spaces and overwhelming stimuli. My wife and I can only hold him and endure.

I glance over at Cool Dude, who’s now trying to pour a rum and Coke. I want to say, “Hey man, I’m sorry if we’re ruining your flight, but if anyone here needs a drink, it’s definitely me!”

Eventually, my son falls asleep from sheer exhaustion, and a wave of relief washes over us. I sit there, listening to the engine hum, staring blankly at the Sky Mall magazine stuffed into the seat pocket, hoping we’ll land in Chicago soon.

Then, something nudges my shoulder. It’s Cool Dude. He hands me two mini Bacardi Silvers and a Diet Coke and says, “You look like you need this more than I do.” I mix the rum with the Coke, and that sweet, soothing drink becomes my lifeline.

We strike up a conversation. He shares that he grew up in Vermont but now lives in Los Angeles. “You’re brave for flying with a kid,” he says. “I have three kids, and I wouldn’t drive them from Long Beach to Malibu.”

“Does your son have autism?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“Yeah,” I reply, and I share some of our challenges and victories. He doesn’t say, “That must be tough,” or “You’re a great dad.” He just listens, allowing me to feel human for a few moments. He transforms what could have been the worst flight of my life into one I’ll always remember.

As we land in Chicago, I often want to say something profound to someone I’ve connected with but won’t see again, like, “May the Universe treat you kindly.” Instead, I say, “Hey, if you’re ever back in Vermont…” He cuts me off with a smile, “I’ll stay in a hotel.”

As my family walks into Chicago O’Hare International Airport, my son makes a beeline for a bookstore, insisting I buy him another copy of that same Cat in the Hat pop-up book I just purchased two hours earlier in Vermont.

Thank you, Cool Dude. May the Universe treat you well.

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Summary:

In this heartfelt narrative, a father reflects on a challenging flight with his son, who has autism. Despite the stress and anxiety, a chance encounter with a kind fellow passenger transforms a difficult journey into a memorable experience filled with understanding and connection.