Hurry Up and Lead

So, this morning I got to the airport way too fucking early.

Up at 4:00 in the goddamned morning for a 7:55 boarding time, because you never know. Strange town, strange everything, and in my experience, sometimes simple things take twice as long when you’re not on your home turf. So I figured if I got there around 6, I’d have enough cushion without sitting around forever.

Yeah… I was wrong.

I drove there a little faster than most people probably would. The biker in me doesn’t really turn off just because I’m in a car. I see lines through traffic, I make decisions quickly, and I don’t hesitate. So I ended up getting there about fifteen minutes earlier than I planned. No big deal, I figured, just more time to drink coffee and relax.

Returning the rental was a little confusing at first, but the attendant was on it. Confident, clear, walked me through everything without making me feel like an idiot for not immediately understanding the signage. That kind of thing stands out to me. People who are just good at what they do. I thanked him, genuinely, and he thanked me for the compliment. Simple interaction, but it stuck with me.

Shuttle ride was about ten minutes, and then I was in the airport.

I got in line to check my bag, even though I technically could have carried it on, but I hate dragging luggage around airports. I just do. Backpack only, that’s my rule. Insulin, electronics, done. Toothpaste and tomorrow’s socks don’t need to be within arm’s reach.

There was a group ahead of me, some kind of college team. Tennis or lacrosse, I’m guessing. I saw a bunch of rackets and logos and figured that was close enough for government work. They weren’t doing anything wrong, just enough chaos and distraction to slow things down, and I could feel that familiar impatience creeping in.

I wasn’t late. Not even close. But waiting on other people? That’ll do it every time.

At one point, a guy ahead of me pointed out that a kiosk had opened up and suggested I go use it. I told him I’d just end up in the same place in line anyway. He laughed and said at least it would give me something to do. Fair enough. I went and used the kiosk, and sure enough, ended up right back behind him. I thanked him for the suggestion, we both laughed, and it was one of those small human moments that just works.

Then I walked over to security. And holy fuck.

The line was massive. Just snaking through the airport like everyone in Columbus decided to fly out at the same time.

So I got in line, because that’s what you do. Hurry up and wait. But then I remembered something important. I paid for TSA pre check.

I looked around, confirmed I was in the regular line, and walked over to pre check.

No line. Not one.

For the first time since I got it, it was worth every penny. And even with all my gear, the defibrillator, the insulin pump, the sensors, the metal plates, all of it, I still got through quickly.

And the woman running that line? She was incredible. Calm, efficient, completely in control without ever raising her voice. Just moving people through with purpose. I found myself watching her, because she was doing exactly what good leaders do. No wasted motion, no unnecessary words, just getting it done.

Then coffee. Starbucks. Consistent, not amazing, but reliable. Medium roast. Good enough.

I found my gate, realized I was two hours early, and sat down.

And then I did what I always do. I watched people.

The older I get, the more fascinated I am by human behavior. Not because I want to understand it, I really don’t, but because I’m constantly amazed at how far some people will go to be selfish.

Most people are fine. They really are. But there’s a solid ten percent out there just… messing it up for everyone.

They’re the reason we have signs telling people not to block the aisle. Instructions that shouldn’t need to exist, but somehow do.

There was a woman sitting nearby, curled up in a blanket, just quiet, calm, keeping to herself. She had this steady energy about her, so I sat across from her. Not to engage, not to intrude, just to kind of exist in that same space, because I knew at some point the chaos would show up.

And it took all of about a minute.

I heard him before I saw him.

Phone on speaker, talking loudly, broadcasting his entire conversation to anyone within earshot like we were all somehow part of it. Nobody else was doing that. Nobody else thought that was acceptable.

But he sure the fuck did.

So I did what I do. I stared him the fuck down. No words, just that look that says, are you seriously doing this right now?

Eventually, he put the phone to his ear. Problem solved.

Sometimes a little awareness still works.

Then boarding started for the earlier flight at my gate, and the gate agent was just as impressive as the TSA woman. Clear, efficient, no nonsense, but not rude. Just doing her job well.

And it got me thinking… is this an Ohio thing?

I don’t know. I’ve only been here a couple days. But there’s something about the way people communicate here, at least the ones I’ve noticed, that feels direct and purposeful.

And that’s when it all kind of came together.

Because yesterday, I was in a room full of people in a leadership program, and during the debrief they told me something I already knew: My presence mattered.

People were waiting for me to speak. Listening when I did.

And for most of my life, I ran from that.

People looked to me for answers, and I didn’t understand how rare that was, so I stayed quiet. Stepped back. Let things happen without me. And in doing that, I probably held things back more than I helped.

That changed after I died.

Three times.

When you come back from that, you start to see things differently. You realize how much you left on the table, how much impact you could have had if you’d just leaned in.

So now I do.

I speak. I lead. Not because someone gave me permission, but because I finally understand what it means to matter.

And here’s the truth that a lot of people don’t like to say out loud: Most managers are not leaders.

Managing and leading are not the same thing. People don’t follow managers because they believe in them. They follow them because they want a paycheck. Take that paycheck away and see how many people are still standing behind them.

My guess? Not many.

So there I was this morning, watching people, thinking about all of it, the good, the bad, the competent, the completely clueless, and realizing something pretty simple: Leadership isn’t a title. It’s how you move through the world. It’s how you treat people. It’s whether anyone would follow you if they didn’t have to.

And for the first time in a long time, I know exactly where I stand.