I failed as a dad.
At least, that’s how it felt in the moment.
My family and I had just spent nine incredible days in Costa Rica—half in the rainforest, half at the beach. It was one of those trips you hope becomes a core memory. My wife planned the entire thing, and she crushed it. Seriously, she should be a travel agent. My job was simple: show up, drive, and enjoy the ride.
That last part—drive—was harder than expected.
Costa Rican roads are not for the faint of heart. Curves everywhere. Narrow lanes. Horses with riders coming straight at you. At one point, I went through what looked like a cut through alley, which was really a Taco Bell drive‑through. After ninety minutes of white‑knuckle driving, I realized something uncomfortable.
My stress was making everyone else uncomfortable.
In my best “fake college professor” voice, I kept thinking, “THIS IS NOT GOOD. IT IS NOT GOOD.”
And it wasn’t.
I let my internal stress leak outward. I wasn’t calm. I wasn’t reassuring. I wasn’t leading. I was surviving—and my family felt it.
We made it through the nine-day adventure, and now it was time to return home. We arrived at the airport two and a half hours early, only to find one airline employee trying to check in at least fifty people. Two lines. One being served. Priority status only.
This is where I made my second mistake.
I stood there. For forty minutes.
I trusted the system even though I could clearly see it was broken. I didn’t step up. I didn’t provide direction. I didn’t cast vision for what we needed to do next.
I was passive.
As leaders—at work or at home—passivity is rarely neutral. It usually costs someone something.
We finally got through TSA, and internally, I was spiraling. Why didn’t you get your family here three hours early?
Because the last time I did that (in Chicago), we flew through everything and waited forever.
But this wasn’t Chicago.
This was Costa Rica—and I should have known that.
I stayed quiet, but inside I was convinced we were going to miss our flight because of my poor leadership. I wanted everyone to be happy rather than make a clear, intelligent, strategic decision.
By God’s grace, we made it through with about 20 minutes to spare.
My college-aged daughter heard a gate change announcement. I decided I was done being passive.
I asked the gate agent, “Is this flight going to Chicago?”
“Yes, sir.”
I asked a man we met in the TSA line, “Is this the Chicago flight?”
“Yep.”
I nodded confidently to my family. I’ve got this.
Then I went to get food. Big mistake.
I ordered $80 worth of sandwiches at the only restaurant in the terminal—packed with people—and quickly realized they were serving numbers twenty-five orders ahead of mine.
Then my wife called.
“I think our gate is wrong.”
No way. I had checked. Twice.
I saw the man from the TSA line and asked one simple question that crushed me:
“Are you flying American… or United?”
He replied with “We are on American.”
My stomach sank knowing my family was flying on United.
How could I be so dumb?!
Wrong gate.
Wrong airline.
Total failure (again).
My wife called again. “Hurry. They’re boarding.”
I abandoned the food, boarded the plane, and felt completely defeated. To make it worse, halfway through the flight, my 10-year-old son started feeling sick—he was so hungry.
I ordered him a snack meal, knowing it was way too little food for $10, but I had no choice.
The flight attendant listened, showed kindness, and gave it to us for free.
Grace.
My son ate. His energy came back. We landed in Chicago. My wife said, “Let’s order deep-dish pizza.”
I ordered two.
The family devoured it.
And finally, I felt like a good leader again.
My family never brought up my mistakes. They loved me anyway.
I’m blessed with a family that gives grace.
I’m blessed with a God who gives mercy when I mess up.
I share this story because leadership is hard—especially when everyone is watching. And when things go sideways, it’s easy to believe you’re the only one failing.
You’re not.
Takeaways
Action Points
I do Impact of Leadership because I want leaders to know they’re not alone.
Stay calm.
Lead courageously.
Learn from your mistakes.
And keep going.
Author: Patrick Booth


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