THE OVERLY FRIENDLY SKIES

The following was contributed by James Jenson.

First off, I want to be clear that I am not an expert on air travel social norms, nor do I have a large sample size to base this observation on, but I have a strong feeling that my intuition is spot on. I have seen what I am about to describe far too many times for it to be a coincidence or an irregular occurrence. My question: What is it about being 30,000 ft. above the ground, packed in a long narrow metal tube with one or two hundred people, traveling at 500 mph, that turns otherwise complete strangers into best friends?

A couple of weeks ago I was aboard a flight from Sacramento to San Diego. The flight was nearly full, but I had managed to get a window seat in the very back row next to a vacant middle seat. I was seated, belt buckled, head back, and ready to sleep away the short 80 minute trip when I made a crucial mistake. Knowing full well the possible repercussions of my actions, I let my guard down for one second and lifted my eyes to scan the width of the cabin. As soon as I noticed my vulnerability, it was too late. My eyes had unfortunately scanned too far and were now locked in a conversation starting stare with the woman in the aisle seat to my left. I managed a lazy courteous smile and nod, hoping to turn my head fast enough towards the window, but she was too quick and well prepared. “Great luck huh? This full of a flight and we manage to get an empty seat between us so we aren’t so crammed” she said. Again I went with the lazy smile and nod, but added a confirming “yeah.” Although in my head I was thinking that at this point I would rather have anything between me and this lady to deflect her innate desire to be my best friend for the next hour and twenty minutes. “So are you going home or leaving home?” she continued. “Going home” I responded. By this point I knew that nothing would stop this lady from single handily ruining this flight. “Oh, me too! My husband and I are.....” That’s about all I heard of her next ramble as I stared blankly in her direction. I couldn’t possibly care enough to concentrate on what she was saying. “So why were you in Sacramento?” she pried. “Job interview.” I replied with a little less fake enthusiasm or interest in my voice. I was praying at this point for anything to save me from this interrogation. 80 minutes was more than enough time for a pro like her to find out everything there is to know about my life. As she was getting ready for her next round of verbal punches, I looked up and saw the answer to my prayers. In the aisle in front of us stood one of the final passengers to board the plane, a man in a dark suit the size of my refrigerator, breathing heavily, brow beading with sweat, gesturing to occupy the vacant seat between myself and the irritant woman. Under normal conditions this situation would cause immediate frustration and natural disgust, but on this flight, it was an act of God. I knew that this mountain of a man had no desire to waste one precious breath on pointless conversation. He was having a hard enough time trying to regulate his normal breathing pattern. For the duration of the flight I sat awkwardly pressed against the window smiling, knowing full well that I narrowly avoided being yet another victim of the overly friendly skies.