Taiwan to L.A., I was stuck with a middle seat to the right of a guy who was talking my ear off about sports from the moment we buckled in. My knowledge of sports can carry me through about 3 minutes of conversation, if you consider nodding and saying “oh, really?” contributions. As the cabin doors were sealed, I peeked over and saw there was an entire center row of five seats unoccupied and the thought of being able to sprawl out was too much to resist. I wished the guy a good flight and headed over to claim my row. Two minutes later, the sports talker followed me over and took the seat directly next to me, continuing exactly where he had left off in the conversation as if he were concerned I’d be lonely in that row by myself. I literally had to pretend I was asleep before he got bored enough to head back to his original seat. I wonder if people have always been so uncomfortable with silence.

Herocious, I was only a little kid at the time, but I remember when people used to dress up when they flew on airplanes.

MrJellyFish, that sounds like the flight from he**. Not even earbuds would make that flight any better.

A girl I met a few months ago had just been on a flight stuck between two elderly people, a man and a woman. They were a married couple. A garrulous, semi-deaf, obstreperous old married couple. They had specifically requested those seats because she liked the window and he liked the aisle.

Once on an airplane, I sat with a school friend. We were on our way from Barranquilla to Miami. He talked about the place he would be staying at in Miami the whole way. He showed me some kind of business card. These are all distant memories. I remember the phone in front of me, attached to the back of the headrest, and I also remember getting more than a box of dry food to munch on.

This was an old school flight, back in the days when you could get a plate of warm food in business class.

But I digress.

My school friend, who I have not seen or heard of in over twelve years, used his mashed potatoes for both nutrition and diversion, if you know what I mean.

Using his platic spork as a catapult, he piled on a generous ort of microwaved mush and said,

-Check this out.

I looked up from my cut of turkey cutlet and saw my school friend pull back on the spork with the nail of his forefinger.

No one said anything. I’m not even sure where it landed. Far up in the aisle count though, or at least far enough away to lay rest to insult.