I was having a conversation with a friend about her unpleasant recent flying experience. We started talking about our ‘hall of fame’ bizarre seat mates and I am pretty sure I was the winner.
I have been on hundreds and hundreds of flights throughout my life. The vast majority of the time, I have completely forgotten any people sitting next to me by the time I have left the vicinity of the airport.
There are several glaring exceptions.
There was one flight where two women in my row spent the flight loudly whispering to each other in Russian, pausing and then staring pointedly at me. Rinse and repeat for the entire flight. When we landed I admittedly rushed to the nearest mirror to try to see what on earth they were looking at.
There was the chiropractic kinesiologist who spent five hours explaining what it was that he did and who then got out his activator tool and started treating my popping ears during the descent.
And then there was the man who read out loud (emphasize the word loud) from the sky mall catalog. Every other sentence was accompanied by a large, wet belch. I speculated that perhaps he had a deep fear of flying, was on some type of medication and had convinced himself that as long as he kept reading, we wouldn’t crash. I guess it worked?! The woman in the window seat and I exchanged frequent glances. She looked trapped and was leaning as far to the side as she possibly could. It was a long two hours.
But the winner of the gold medal was on a flight from Pittsburgh to Denver. I noticed a person at the gate area and sent up a little prayer to whoever “Please not next to me”.
It was hard not to notice him. He was a very tall and buff fellow. His head was shaved except for a large spiky mohawk. He looked fierce.
The plane was a small one with only 2 seats on each side. When I boarded it was clear that no helpful spirits had heeded my request, because there he was, not just in my row, but in my seat.
“Excuse me, but I have the aisle”
He grudgingly moved over to his assigned seat by the window. He was radiating hostility.
I got myself settled. Before take off, I pulled out a pack of gum from my purse and offered him a piece.
Suddenly, we were best friends…the magic of a piece of gum. I might have been better off keeping all the gum to myself.
He started talking.
He had been visiting his daughter who lived with the mom. He chatted about how hard it was to not live closer. He was happy to tell story after story of this little 5 year old, who he clearly loved. He mentioned that he had a form of PTSD and if he was startled out of a deep sleep he would get violent, so his daughter had learned to gently stroke his head and whisper into his ear when she needed to wake him up.
There was no sign of his slowing down. At some point, I got out my book, which is normally a social signal that it was time to stop chatting.
Nope, he paid no attention.
“ Can I show you some pictures of my daughter?”
“Sure”
He got out his phone and scrolled through quite a number of cute ones.
“And these are my two dogs”
Yep…lovely dogs. Always happy to look at dogs.
“And…oops”
The oops was that the next series of photos were no longer featuring dogs..
Flagrant dick picks. Ugh and awkward.
“Sorry, I guess I forgot these were on here”
(um, yeah, sure you did)
Pause
“You can go ahead and read now”
Between his incessant talking along with the show and tell of photos on his phone, there was only an hour left in the flight. I opened my book.
I hadn’t been reading long before I noticed that he had started snoring. Then to my horror his head started nodding down into my direction. The mohawk was now leaning on the top of my head.
“No, no, ick”….but the spirits above were still ignoring me.
My seat mate snuggled down, using my shoulder as a comfy pillow.
His earlier words were repeating in my head…PTSD, violent if startled awake.
I was NOT going to gently rub his head. I was stuck. He slept on my through the bumpy landing and didn’t wake up until we pulled into the gate.
I survived and got a story about it, but give me a peek-a boo-playing toddler anytime..
It took a couple of years before I started offering gum again.
I need to add that not all seat mates are the ones you quickly forget or can’t wait to get away from. I have interacted with many lovely and quirky individuals. ‘Nurse Judy’ is easily activated and I have ended up giving parental advice on more than one flight.
One of my favorite pair of seat mates was actually on a flight that I was on, going to Pittsburgh for my grandmother’s funeral. I was terribly sad but they had me laughing and relaxing long before we even took off. These guys were a hoot. They had brought along a gourmet picnic. They asked if I wanted to share. At first I declined until it became impossible not to join in the festivities. This including covering all three of our tray table with a gingham checked tablecloth. (obviously this was back in the day of bringing whatever you wanted onto the plane with you). It was just what I needed. I felt like I was part of a fairy tale.
As great as that was, it is still not quite the best. On what was clearly the most impactful flight of my life, I met my husband Sandy. The 50th anniversary of that flight is just a month from now.
Do you have you own story?