I flew home from Boston last evening.  Because I haver been flying a lot, I was one of those lucky ones who got bumped up to First Class, and it was very nice-- a glass of wine, a nice dinner, plenty of room, the whole deal.  When I got home just in time for a family birthday party, I mentioned that it had been a very nice flight.  Someone at the party mentioned that on a recent flight from Boston to Minneapolis, the entire group of people in First Class had given up their seats to a group of soldiers in uniform who happened to be on the plane.
What  a nice gesture, we thought, and probably a very memorable experience for all those involved.
I was reminded that something like that happened to me once.  I use the passive voice, because what happened was very little about me.
I had been flying very frequently, and getting upgraded all the time. It was normal for me to leave for the airport having a First Class seat-- none of this waiting at the gate to see if I would be lucky.
One day as I was driving to the airport with my First Class boarding pass in hand for a flight to LA, it dawned on me that I was getting way too impressed with the whole "First Class" thing, and I should probably give my seat to someone else.  That provoked more than a little internal conflict.  After all. the flight to LA is long, and First Class really is nice for trips like that.
But I showed up at the airport determined to find someone else to use my seat, which turns out to be harder than it seems.  You need to spot someone travelling alone-- I only had one seat-- and you can't just go up to someone and say: "You look like someone deserving of special tratment (or, worse yet, charity)-- would you like my First Class seat?"
By the time the flight was boarding I hadn't switched seats with anyone (and was secretly happy about that). But when I walked down the Jet-Way to get on the plane, I discovered that the pre-boards weren't on the plane yet.  There was an elderly woman in a wheel chair stopped just at the plane's entrance, with a woman who appeared to be her daughter behind her ready to push the wheelchair.
Suddenly it hit me that this was my chance, so I went up to the daughter, showed her my boarding pass, and asked if her mom would like to switch seats.  She quickly said "yes."
What I didn't know, but found out later, was the fact that we were all waiting to board the plane because the elderly woman's wheelchair was too wide to go down the aisle in Coach Class-- it fit First Class, but the airline was desperately trying to get a smaller chair to take her all the wasy to her seat.  Moving her to First Class solved everything.
Suddenly I got treated as a hero-- two guys came up to shake my hand and say that was the nicest things they'd ever seen, the cabin crew gave me drinks and the First Class meal, when we landed in LA a gate agent was there to meet me and give me a certificate for 10,000 miles.  A couple of weeks later got a letter from a Delta SVP thanking me for having saved everyone  a serious delay.
You know, we all live lives that are pretty-much First Class in this country, at least compared to the rest of the world.  While we aren't part of the 85 families who we just heard own as much wealth as the bottom 50% of the world combined (something which should be the source of some serious reflection), most of us live an unimaginably-privileged life by all historic and relative standards.
How to make it better? Look for those chances to share with someone else and do it.
That flight to LA in Coach still is one of the most memorable I've ever had.