Keurig and lightening on Air Canada​




I have a meeting last week in Toronto with J, a marketing manager of a coffee company. J and I know each other from ethnographic work at his previous company. I speak about coffee innovation, and J asks me to talk more about what I mean. I mention that there are as many types of coffees connected to every need, want, and style of coffee drinker as there are individually desired experiences. Keurig is an example of innovation that meets a need for an individualized, consistent coffee experience. J and I converse more as he tells me of coffee acquisitions and we agree to be in touch another time.


That evening, I'm on an Air Canada flight from Toronto to Baltimore, an AC Jazz plane that's a small single prop. I am sitting next to a man who turns out to work for, yes, Keurig.


Not more than 40 minutes later, about 8:30 p.m. and almost midway to Baltimore from Toronto at about 30,000 feet, May 16, our plane is struck by lightening. I see it all. I turn to my right from my window seat at the crucial moment and witness two large golden balls of electricity coming toward the plane, hitting the side I'm seated on. I and others feel the impact of the golden electric balls and there's a huge flash. Immediately, the plane has to return for an emergency landing to Toronto. The controls have been damaged, and the plane is found to be inoperable. We are safe but shaken, our group of passengers. We remain in Toronto overnight, put up at a hotel, and rescheduled for flights the following day. I am one day late to my conference in Baltimore, but alive.


The lightening experience is a life-shifting moment, an unexpected wakeup to live fully every day...because life is vulnerable amidst powerful forces. Are these forces arbitrary?


There may be no relationship between lightening and Keurig, but we are discussing Keurig when lightening strikes.