On Christmas Eve day, I drove my company’s van across the Incheon Bridge, a twenty-two-kilometer steel behemoth connecting the islands of Songdo and Yeongjong. Light specks of snow fell from the grey winter sky. Joy and excitement, along with chatter from my friends Jenny and Tom, filled the van.

Jenny and Tom, who own their own English language school, hadn’t had a proper vacation in over two years and were heading to the US. This trip was a cause for celebration. 

Under the pandemic’s long, shadow, both had hustled to save for a vacation. This trip symbolized not only a reunion with Jenny’s family but a much-needed reprieve from the bustling, never-ending shellacking of adulthood.

“Thank you again for offering to drive us,” Tom cheered in the backseat. 

“Yes,” Jenny beamed next to me. “Thank you so much for helping us!” 

I beamed in return. I felt honored that they trusted me to drive them and that I got to be a part of their journey. 

Plus, I know what it’s like preparing for a trip. With current COVID-19 protocols, international travel has become a nightmarish, Herculean obstacle requiring persistence, endurance, and a bit of sheer luck: from checking documents, timing your covid-19 test, managing canceled flights, and praying there won’t be an abrupt change in plans. On top of all the pre-departure checklist boxes to tic, there’s figuring out how to get to the bloody airport and timing it carefully. 

By car, it takes roughly thirty minutes, but many expats in Songdo don’t have cars. Relying on taxis through an app called Kakao Taxi always runs a risk with cabs not always being available, not to mention $30-$40 cab fare. In Tom and Jenny’s case, in which they took several suitcases to restock on goods only found in the US, a regular taxi wouldn’t have enough trunk space, so they’d have to request a jumbo taxi, costing even more. If traveling lightly, taking public transportation is an option, but that takes anywhere from forty-five minutes to an hour and requires carefully timing catching a bus. 

Wouldn’t it be nice then, wouldn’t it be one less thing to worry about, if you had someone you can rely on to drive you to the airport? 

Now, I understand for many the awkwardness in accepting rides or even asking for a ride. Many of my friends, whose cultural dispositions lean individualistic, don’t want to burden others with going all the way out to the airport. I used to feel this way. I didn’t want to burden friends with my personal choice to travel, so I always paid the $40 to take a taxi solo. 

Then last summer, a guy I had been dating insisted he drive me to the airport when I traveled to the US to see my family. 

“It’s what you do,” he insisted. “It’s a nice gesture for your friends and people you care about.” 

Amazingly, this wasn’t just lip service. I witnessed him frequently flocking to the airport to pick up or drop off friends and family. On the one hand, it seemed like a massive burden for an already packed schedule, but on the other, it was kinship, dependability, and compassion in action (and may it reveal the hardened boot-strap culture of Americans that we’re dumbstruck and inspired by acts like these). 

In response to his offer, my American habit of wanting to appear independent and self-sufficient nudged me to protest. Plus, as a recovering control freak, the idea of relinquishing my control over how I get to the airport felt risky. 

What if the person forgets to fill up on gas before heading out? 

What if they’re shit with directions? 

It’s less mental gymnastics, I once reasoned, to take care of it myself. 

I’ve since learned this always-do-it-solo rationale dampens chances to forge trust and connection with your people. When you turn down help or when you don’t ask for help, you’re signaling to your people that you either don’t trust them or that you don’t have confidence in yourself to articulate your needs (e.g., specifying how early you want to arrive at the airport). 

There’s also the worry of feeling indebted to a person and needing to reciprocate acts like these. But accepting a kind gesture doesn’t have to place you in servitude of another. If a gesture is offered freely and wholeheartedly, it constitutes the phrase “It takes a village.” We have to look out for each other, not just for practical and emergent moments -like flat tires or jump-starting cars- but supporting our moments of joy, like traveling to see family. 

Now that I feel free to accept or ask for rides, or whatever may be the big burdening favor that adulthood always has in store, my hope is that my community, my near-and-dears, can depend on me in their time of need.  

Does this revelation make me patron saint of friendships? Heavens no. I’ve still got a lot to learn.

But it does keep the flames burning for a candles-always-lit-friendship.

Song for post: Friends & Family by the Isley Brothers featuring Snoop Dog