At the aircraft door, the lead flight attendant greeted him.
Her name was Nicole Harris.
Early thirties.
Calm.
Professional.
She waited until the aircraft was airborne before approaching him again.
“Mr. Thorne.”
“Yes?”
“I hope you don’t mind me saying something.”
“That depends entirely on what you’re about to say.”
She smiled.
“Fair.”
Then she became serious.
“I was skeptical about the training.”
Alexander looked at her.
“Most people are.”
“I thought it would be another corporate exercise.”
“Was it?”
“At first.”
She glanced toward the cabin.
“Then they showed us complaint patterns.”
Alexander waited.
Nicole continued.
“I realized I had done some of those things.”
“What things?”
“Assumptions.”
Her voice lowered.
“Not intentionally. But that almost made it worse.”
Alexander said nothing.
“I once asked a Black family in business class to show their boarding passes after they were already seated.”
“Was there a reason?”
“I told myself there was.”
She looked embarrassed.
“There wasn’t.”
Alexander nodded.
“What did you do with that realization?”
“I changed.”
He smiled faintly.
“Then the training worked.”
Nicole hesitated.
“I wanted to thank you.”
Alexander looked out the window.
Clouds stretched below the aircraft in white layers.