Yesterday I enjoyed one of Chicago’s most popular pastimes – picking people up from O’Hare airport. Anyone who has had the privilege of being cursed out by one of O’Hare’s “traffic management” professionals knows the fear of having your car evaporated by their bright orange wands of doom.
I was meeting my teenage daughter and father-in-law at Terminal 1. Between my father-in-law trying to manage with his cane and my daughter being unfamiliar with navigating the airport, there was lag time between her phone call telling me of their landing and their actual arrival to the car.
As I sat in my vehicle, nervously keeping my eye out for airport security, I wondered if I would manage to escape the “Circle of Shame.” The Circle of Shame is a circular road that the traffic cops force you to drive if you are caught double parking for too long.
Just as my daughter called to tell me they were making their way out of the airport, an angry security guard was coming toward me brandishing his wand with a flourish. He indicated that I should roll down my passenger window using exaggerated motions. As I did, he immediately began yelling.
“You can’t be parked here!” he hollered.
“I’m waiting for my daughter.” I said meekly, invoking the mom card.
“Well where is she?” he asked, holding his arms up and looking about as if she might be above or below him. “I don’t see your daughter!”
“She told me she was just coming out to Terminal 1.” I answered, craning my head around toward the airport’s exit door.
Following my gaze, the guard began to say, “Ok, fine, pull up here…”
I thought I was home free, but sadly, he could tell that I wasn’t actually looking at anyone I recognized.
“Get out of here! Go on!” he yelled disgustedly. “And don’t let me catch you around here again!!”
With that dismissal he violently ushered my minivan into the Circle of Shame with his orange wand.
You can imagine the grumbled curses I emitted as I made my lap of defeat back around the airport. Indignant at the way I’d been spoken to, I thought of all the things I should have said. I pictured myself turning off my engine, getting out of my car, and saying, “Or what?! Don’t let me catch you around here again, or what?!! What are your gonna do?!!” as I grabbed his orange wand and shoved it up the derriere of his O’Hare-security-department-issued-navy-polyester-uniform-pants!
But I digress.
As I simmered down, I thought about the power of words. How loshon hara (evil speech) and loshon tov (good speech) can have tremendous power over our mood and our self-esteem. The traffic cop had made me feel powerless and scolded like a disobedient child. The initial anger I felt was certainly out of proportion with the situation, but was entirely caused by his rude behavior. If he had simply waved me on with a directive to go back around until I could find my passengers, I might have been slightly annoyed, but I wouldn’t have felt personally slighted.
For me, this experience was a good reminder of how we all have the power to change the course of someone’s day, week, or even life by the words and tone we choose to direct at them. I’ve heard that the Chofetz Chaim said we each have a certain number of allotted words in this lifetime (learning Torah and tefillah don’t count against that limit). Once we have reached our limit, we die. Therefore, we shouldn’t waste our precious portion on evil or frivolous speech. With this idea in mind, I would rather use my words to build someone up than knock someone down. Perhaps I had my airport experience to remind me of this lesson, and if so, it was all for the good.
