As I hustled for my spot in line for a delayed flight, I became slightly overwhelmed by the crowd that had gathered around vying to get their place in line after waiting for hours for the flight to be called.
People were pushing each other and bumping their bags and briefcases into the person beside them, concerned that they would lose their position in line. You know how it is when everyone wants to get to the front of a line, and there is always some person who rudely is pushing their way to the top with no regard to anyone else.
This kind of aggressive behavior reminds me of a football scrum, although I have never actually been in one.
My handbag felt heavier than normal and my shoulder was feeling fatigue from holding my bag for so long filled with books, sunglasses, purse, makeup and anything else that I had chosen to throw in there during the day.
My muscles were tightening around my neck and my eyes felt as though a lemon had sprayed the corner.
I was exhausted, yet I had to wait in line like everyone else for the powers to be to let us on the plane.
"Excuse me, excuse me." I heard a lady in the background politely mumble.
"Excuse me, excuse me." I heard it again and again as the sound got closer and closer.
Finally, the person was right beside me.
A Qantas attendant was assisting a very good looking man in his early 40's get through the crowd. As I looked down and moved aside simultaneously, I noticed a stick. The man was blind.
It stopped me in my tracks.
Here I was complaining to myself about how tired I was, how Qantas once again had let me down, how my back ached and my throat was dry - and here was a man that couldn't see two feet in front of him.
I've learnt over the years, that I shouldn't feel pity for someone in this situation. He sure doesn't want me to. Instead, I felt respect for the way this person who I don't know and most probably will never know, sees the world - not through their eyes, but through their other senses; listening, felling and smelling.
I've always thought that being blind would be the worse disability of all. To wake up and not see the sun rise, a child being born, the waves crashing on the rocks or someone smile, would mean that you would miss out on so much. I, like most people, do not spend enough time appreciating what we have, rather than what we have not.
Life can throw us many curve balls, but sometimes its good to just sit down by yourself and appreciate how good life really is and how lucky we all are.