We have kids and grandkids at opposite sides of the country so my husband and I spend a lot of time in airplanes.
A recent trip to Boston had me thinking about nightmare seat mates. On that flight I was next to gentleman from India. He seemed very nice, but reeked of some kind of incense I couldn’t identify. I’ve got a sensitive nose and while his odor wasn’t disgusting, it was very strange
I turned the overhead air nozzle on high and tried to ignore the aroma. I’m sure those with perfume sensitivity know exactly what I’m talking about.
What do you do when the guy crammed in next to you smells of strange spices, burning wood and something so odd you can’t decide if it’s bird, beast or fish?
On another trip, the goddess of flight placed me next to a woman named Cora who went by the name of Dolly. She was, unfortunately, on her way to a convention for a multi-level marketing scheme involving some sort of magical water. Dolly immediately went into her sales pitch. I gently told her I wasn’t interested, but that didn’t stop her from spending the next 30 minutes telling me in excruciating detail her entire life story and how the magic water cured every ailment she ever had.
Dolly/Cora insisted I take her business card, even after I politely demurred. She was adamant…just in case I wanted to check out the elixir in the future. Lucky for me a flight attendant came along offering pretzels. After that I pretended to be asleep.
I’ve been seated next to people who snored loudly; who talked to themselves; who took up all of their seat and part of mine. My seat back has been kicked for hours by small children, and I’ve listened to kids cry for most of an overseas flight. Somehow that doesn’t seem as bad as the idiot next to me who loudly berated a flight attendant for being slow in bringing his gin and tonic.
Airline seatmates are always a matter of luck, even when you fly Southwest, which allows you to select a seat when you board. The sickest person I ever sat next to appeared hale and hearty when I sat down beside her.
.
On the upside, I’ve never had to dodge an onboard fist fight. And once I shared a flight with a gay men’s church choir who serenaded passengers most of the way to Minneapolis. It was like flying above the clouds with angels.
A recent trip to Boston had me thinking about nightmare seat mates. On that flight I was next to gentleman from India. He seemed very nice, but reeked of some kind of incense I couldn’t identify. I’ve got a sensitive nose and while his odor wasn’t disgusting, it was very strange
I turned the overhead air nozzle on high and tried to ignore the aroma. I’m sure those with perfume sensitivity know exactly what I’m talking about.
What do you do when the guy crammed in next to you smells of strange spices, burning wood and something so odd you can’t decide if it’s bird, beast or fish?
On another trip, the goddess of flight placed me next to a woman named Cora who went by the name of Dolly. She was, unfortunately, on her way to a convention for a multi-level marketing scheme involving some sort of magical water. Dolly immediately went into her sales pitch. I gently told her I wasn’t interested, but that didn’t stop her from spending the next 30 minutes telling me in excruciating detail her entire life story and how the magic water cured every ailment she ever had.
Dolly/Cora insisted I take her business card, even after I politely demurred. She was adamant…just in case I wanted to check out the elixir in the future. Lucky for me a flight attendant came along offering pretzels. After that I pretended to be asleep.
I’ve been seated next to people who snored loudly; who talked to themselves; who took up all of their seat and part of mine. My seat back has been kicked for hours by small children, and I’ve listened to kids cry for most of an overseas flight. Somehow that doesn’t seem as bad as the idiot next to me who loudly berated a flight attendant for being slow in bringing his gin and tonic.
Airline seatmates are always a matter of luck, even when you fly Southwest, which allows you to select a seat when you board. The sickest person I ever sat next to appeared hale and hearty when I sat down beside her.
.
On the upside, I’ve never had to dodge an onboard fist fight. And once I shared a flight with a gay men’s church choir who serenaded passengers most of the way to Minneapolis. It was like flying above the clouds with angels.