Flight #3417 proves you can buy happiness.

Friday morning, early to rise. Jump to the espresso machine. All powers go. (Even the barrage of texts vibrating at an impressive pace couldn’t stop me.)

First, sell massive amounts of baked goods. Second, hop a cab to the Delta terminal at Philadelphia International Airport.

Mission accomplished. The cab pulls away. I scroll through and read DELAYED: CANCELLED: REBOOKED.

At first, I’m grateful for cell phones. Hours later (when I realize I’m stuck for awhile), my gratitude dwindles. I fluctuate between the awareness of good fortune (I have the best lifelong friend ever that I get to visit) and bad luck  (Delta is hijacking girltime).

Ten-hours later and far too many airport terminal stories to tell… like the six pair teenage boy stinky feet contest, the Argentinan pouring her heart out (in remedial Spanish – for my benefit) about her fiance of eight years (standing in front of us waiting to speak with an agent) who is cheating on her with another woman, the car enthusiast researching exotic rental cars (remember we’re in Philadelphia) so he can drive to Miami instead, the business man missing his daughter’s birthday party and oh-so, over-the-top, uber sweet couple so very excited to see their daughter in Alaska, they’d happily sit in the airport another three days, if necessary. But I digress…

Many hours later, I land in Detroit (not my final destination) to find out the last flight out has been cancelled.

A courteous agent apologizes (without making eye contact), and rebooks me on the first available flight out. (8am the following morning.)

My frugal (and very stubborn side) is about to sleep in the airport. (Based on past experience, minor melt-down is predicted at approximately 3:30am.)

I call to update Cassie, “It’s over. I’m not getting in until tomorrow.”

I hear (in a very uncharacteristic don’t mess with me tone), “There’s a Southwest flight leaving in an hour. We’re booking that flight. You’re getting on that plane. I’m not letting you stay in Detroit.”

I seize up. (If I recall correctly, I saved $35 booking this flight with a layover two months ago.)

The one-leg, one-way flight costs $179.

I trust. I swipe. I fly. Three hours later, we hug.

Money doesn’t buy happiness, it buys ease. And in this case more time together. (Which are my peak happy moments.)

But really, if you had seen the look on Cassie’s face when I finally arrived (secretly she knew she’d be the one to officially dole out the dough for the airline ticket) you’d know – beyond question – that money buys happiness.

It’s easy to get caught up in a not enough mentality. The idea that we’ll be happier later if we have more money.

You want to buy happiness? Spend money on someone else. Fact. (Watch: Michael Norton, How to Buy Happiness)

Southwest Airlines bought two people happiness (and one good night’s sleep).

You want to feel happy? Spread happiness. Today is International Day of Happiness.

It doesn’t have to cost anything . (The money, the spending, the dough… that’s not the point.) The point is this: expressions of love, kindness, connection and thoughtfulness make us happy.

Express how you feel. Share something important to you. Do something nice. Get to know someone. Bake the boss a blueberry muffin.

Say hello. Celebrate happiness today. Heck, shout it from the rooftops in your Spring shoes. This is the kind of sunshine we all need.


Image Thanks Live Happy