Airplanes

Airplanes are funny creatures. It seems that  every time you get into one, the plane takes on a life of it’s own. Two plane rides today. Two very different experiences.

First: Southwest Airlines flight to Baltimore. I was the unlucky Southwest traveler, who while getting an “A” group boarding card had to sit in a middle seat. I lift my fist to curse you direct flights. So I have a seat next to a circa The Last Ice Age man who intermittently says inaudible words to himself, and a young strapping 20 year old who is oh so attractively drooling on the tray table that he did not sit upright upon approach for landing. He also left his Rolling Stone in the empty middle seat. I, of course, accidentally sat on it, which made for awkward conversation with the drowsy young man when he woke up looking for his magazine. I admit it. When I saw the Rolling Stone, I tried to be cool and feminine and pull out a Vogue that my parents bought me for V-Day. Little did he know, I was only reading it for the cover story about Blake Lively and Gossip Girl. (Returning March 16th. How long must I wait Oh Lord?) Then…I too fell asleep. When I woke up, completely confused about how much time there was left on the plane, the Ice Age was gone. He was gone for a good 30 minutes after my cat nap. I tried to figure out if he had moved in an effort to make sure I hadn’t snored obnoxiously. No. He was just in the back…standing by the lavatory, mumbling to himself. Drooler was still drooling. Worst part about my catnap was missing the complimentary soft drink and peanuts.When we got off, I couldn’t get my coat on, and both Ice Age and Drooler tried to help me get it on. Chivalry is not dead. But…the lining in my coat is torn, so I put it on wrong and readjust later. So much for chivalry.

I then boarded my plane to RDU and met an interesting 8-year-old Kayla. Kayla’s mom decided to sit her in the middle seat between me and a 26 year old ex-airforce guy. Mommy went in the middle seat across the aisle. Now, I think I probably should have traded seats with her, but the window and aisle seater across the way looked much similar to the above experience, and who in their right mind would want to put themselves through that again? So I sat by Kayla, helped her get adjusted, and then proceeded to watch her flirt with the ex-Maverick better than I probably EVER WILL. It was absolutely ridiculous. “Help me with this Sudoku!” “Where did you go to college?” “What was their mascot?” “Want to play with my Operation pen? Wink Wink.” Barf me. When I realized I wasn’t the child’s favorite person on the plane, I started reading The Kite Runner (review to come), and tried to tune out what was going on around me. My concentration was broken when Kayla asked, “So…do they card on this plane? My mom lost her driver’s license, so she doesn’t like when they card.” Josh, my little brother, is 11 with a 12th-grade-reading level, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know what that means. She then said, “I’m just going to ask for a Bloody Mary and see what they say.” At this point, the best word to describe my innermost feelings would have to be….befuddled. I laughed to keep my jaw from dropping. Of course, then I started encouraging the behavior along with ex-Maverick, because…that’s funny. She then read us the drink specials in back of the in-flight magazine. Thank the Lord the flight was only 45 minutes, or I’m pretty sure my girl Kayla would have been rearin’ to go after her Bloody Marys…

Thank you Southwest Airlines. I love the way I fly.

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