The Surprising Benefit of Flying Alone: Connection

For years I don’t think I ever flew anywhere alone. But this past week I had occasion to do just that. In fact, I’ve done it a few times this year. And I’ve come to realize there’s a surprising benefit to flying solo. Surprising new connections.

This past summer, I flew out ahead of my husband to see our kids in Delaware and New York. I looked forward to uninterrupted time with my book(s), and maybe a nap.

Both times, I found myself forming a nearly instant and very enjoyable bond with two different woman. The first was dropping her incoming freshman at an out-of-state school. The second was faced with retirement, not of her choosing. Both were quite stressed about what they saw to be insurmountable changes to their lives. Changes they in no way felt ready for.

Surprising connection in strangers

Generally, I think less-is-more when it comes to advice. But as a mother who’d dropped three kids at out-of-state colleges, and who’d found herself having to make a job change because of some health issues, I felt pretty confident telling them they’d be fine. In time.

The third time, this past week, I met a couple of women in the airport lounge. They arrived at different times and the second woman entered the space saying she’d had quite a walk and was all sweaty. But she’d hit her step goal for the day, which made it worth it. I couldn’t help laughing a bit under my breath. Common ground.

“Right?” the second woman said, drawing me into their conversation.

I quickly learned they were passing through the Minneapolis airport, en route to Palm Springs. Both live in Michigan. I, too was headed for Palm Springs but from a Minneapolis base. In the past, that would have made any real connection feel lost on me.

But a second later, the women were asking where I was headed, and what my plans were once I got there. And within the first two minutes they said (with great enthusiasm), that I should join them. They were meeting two other friends for a girls’ week.

Why solo flying creates connection when traveling together does not

The pattern of all these encounters struck me. This only seemed to happen when I flew solo. And while it was outside my experience to be instantly invited to join a girls’ weekend with strangers, I nearly immediately saw the value in this connection. They had me laughing. And it became apparent, almost immediately that we were all in the same stage of life. For different reasons? Yes. But it was the commonality that mattered.

The open vs. the closed loop of connection

Let’s face it, when we travel with someone else, we’re socially closed. Not in a defensive way. Just in a practical one. We have a companion, a shared rhythm, a conversation already underway. Other people instinctively read that and step back.

When we travel alone, that social buffer disappears.

Your solo-ness signals your availability

I don’t believe this happens because we’re broadcasting loneliness. First off, I wasn’t lonely; I was just alone. But this aloneness signals availability. You look like someone who might respond if spoken to, someone not already absorbed in an internal world. It’s a subtle distinction, but one we are remarkably good at picking up on.

This is why conversations happen more easily when we’re flying solo. It’s not that you’re suddenly more outgoing. It’s that you are more available.

Airports are liminal spaces

There’s another reason, as well. Airports are one of the best examples of what anthropologists call liminal spaces. An airport is a space designed to be moved through, not stayed in. No one truly belongs in an airport. Everyone is between something. It could be home and away, work and rest, or obligation and escape.

And these liminal spaces are places where the usual rules soften. These can be physical space, like an airport, or a waiting room. Or, they can be emotional, like a life transition. They can even be metaphorical, as in when we’re trying to decide between two options.

It’s well-documented that people are more likely to talk to strangers, share personal details, and suspend the usual social scripts when in an airport. There’s nothing at stake. This is almost always a transitory connection. This is why conversations at gates often skip the usual small talk and move quickly into real territory. People mention aging parents, recent changes, long-delayed trips, or decisions they’re still figuring out.

There’s an unspoken understanding: This moment doesn’t need to mean anything. There’s no expectation that it’ll last beyond the words that are spoken.

The relief of low stakes

Perhaps the most freeing part of these conversations is that nothing is required of you afterward.

You’re not networking. You’re not building a friendship that needs maintenance. You’re not committing to anything beyond the present moment. But I’d venture that in at least a few of these situations, there is something very real and worth curating.

The unexpected common ground when flying alone

One of the most striking things about airport encounters is how quickly recognition happens.

Two women sitting side by side don’t need shared history to sense common ground. One may be traveling for work, another for family. One may be navigating a transition, another enjoying a period of stability. The details differ, but the life stage creates a kind of shorthand.

There’s often a moment, sometimes early, sometimes midway through, when one woman says something like, “I totally get what you’re saying.” And you know it’s true. They do.

Leverage one positive encounter to propel the next one

It’s not typical of me to talk with strangers at an airport. But I’m working on it. Years of introversion don’t switch up over night. But after two great evenings with this group of women from two different cities in Michigan, Southern California, and North Carolina, I’m a convert.

Why fleeting connections matter more than we think

Somewhere along the way, many of us start to believe the idea that only relationships with longevity have value. If it doesn’t deepen, repeat, or endure, it feels secondary. It’s an investment without a return.

A conversation that lasts twenty minutes can still offer perspective, reassurance, or a sense of belonging. It can remind you that the world is larger than your current concerns. And it has other unexpected benefits.

It doesn’t need to last to matter. But the surprising thing is that some of these fleeting encounters do last. The woman I met on my second solo trip this summer has become a huge fan of Lifeticity. She said the fact I’ve charted a new path gives her hope for what’s ahead for her.

In midlife it can seem as though our social world has contracted

Here’s the other thing. For many of us, life has had a way of getting in the way of our plans. Relocation, job loss, empty nests, tragedy, and a million other things can easily mean our connections with the people we thought we’d always be connected to, shift.

Midlife isolation often isn’t dramatic. It’s subtle. Life becomes full, busy, compartmentalized. Interactions are functional rather than exploratory.

But they don’t have to be. We just need to open ourselves up to the powerful connections that can spring from nowhere. Like airport encounters. If nothing else, they can interrupt the closed loop of our own thoughts. At best, they can be completely new connections that just may stand the test of time.

Friendship without proximity

We’re living in a time when friendship no longer requires shared zip codes. Zoom book groups, shared newsletters, occasional check-in calls, girls’ trips. These formats work particularly well for us, now. Gone are the days of needing to have your closest friends live in the same town.

Curiosity without strings

The most meaningful conversations usually start simply. A neutral question. An observation about the flight. A comment about the destination.

You’re not trying to be interesting. You’re being interested.

That shift removes pressure and allows the conversation to find its own level.

Friendships that hark back to our early days

Think back to before you had a partner, spouse, kids, or a career. We made friends because something about that person sparked our attention. Maybe they were funny, we liked their clothes, or we watched them jump from a swing in mid-air, something we envied.

Later, our friends tended to gather based on the town we found ourselves living in, our colleagues, our kids’ moms, or women who belonged to the same group or club. It was natural and it worked. These were our people.

But in midlife, we get to start putting our own (possibly changing) identity back at the forefront. And we can go back to aligning ourselves with people who speak to us now. We can live with intention.

What’s important here is not obligation, but choice.

The importance of true choice

Some conversations are meant to stay in the airport. Others invite continuation. The difference is usually intuitive. We don’t know these people’s backstories. And they don’t know ours. But here’s the strange thing: My airport lounge friends and I found ourselves sharing some of our greatest hurts and tragedies. We marveled at the commonality of our experiences.

They’d been let down by friends. Family. Their friend ranks were thinning. They spoke of uneven friendships that were on repeat. Universal hurts when you’ve been around a while.

And it can be freeing to find yourself discussing these topics with women you met five minutes ago. Women with no preconceptions about your life.

Openness begins with presence

Solo flying doesn’t obligate you to collect connections. It simply offers the opportunity to notice which ones feel worth carrying forward. Being open doesn’t mean initiating conversation or being “on.” Often, it begins with small, physical cues: uncrossed arms, eyes up, our phones tucked away.

In my case, I was trying not to listen. I couldn’t help myself. The women in the airport lounge weren’t inviting intrusion. But my chuckling over the sweaty step goals of the second woman signaled permission. Permission to connect.

A final reflection

I used to believe that conversations with strangers were pleasant but ultimately inconsequential. Moments that filled time but didn’t add up to anything.

What I’ve learned, flying solo, is that some moments are complete in themselves. They don’t need to endure to matter. And others just might be opportunities to begin whole new connections. Meaningful ones.

I joined this friend group on a couple of occasions while in Palm Springs, and found myself easily embracing their mix of humor, common ground, intelligence, and kindness. Time will tell, but I plan to do my part to keep this going. Even across our four states.

Never lose sight of how easily connection can still find us. And how important this can be. All it takes is leaving a bit of space for it.