When I flew to Chicago from Phoenix a couple of weeks ago, I sat in front of a loud talker on the airplane. You know the type: the kind who believes that everyone will find his conversation scintillating and never learned how to use his “inside voice.” He sat with his tween daughter and the two were obviously excited about their trip—their first, I presume—to Chicago.
I could have written about it but decided not to because how cute is it that a father would take his young daughter on a special weekend trip to a big city? Just the two of them? So, I just popped in my MP3 earbuds and read my book, trying to ignore the babytalk banter that they shared back and forth. Mostly, I did, although everyone on the plane, including me, knew in which hotel they’d be staying, along with all the fun sites they planned to visit—Navy Pier, the American Girl store, the Field Museum, the works! But, Side Note to Mr. Mom: I hope you realize that in another year or two your daughter will be mortified if you try that loud babytalk again in public.
On my flight yesterday from Chicago to Phoenix, it happened again. Another Loud Talker. What are the odds? Behind me sat a former commercial airlines pilot. He was in his 60’s and at first I thought he had a hearing problem. Seriously. He talked that LOUD. Not even my MP3 could drown him out. Or the fan above me operating on high. Or the crying babies.
For the first 10 minutes or so, his running commentary about altitude, wing span, and wind knots was mildly interesting. After an hour, it was annoying. And after three hours, I’m fairly certain that there were several of us who were seriously contemplating whether to open the Exit Door and leap into the clouds.
In addition to sitting in front of the Loud Talker, who barely paused five seconds between sentences to catch his breath, I had the good fortune to sit smack dab in the middle of what could only be described as a child care facility in the sky. I think every family with a newborn or toddler was seated around me and the Loud Talker, but I’ll save a post for another day on why I think there should be “family sections” on airplanes like there used to be smoking sections. And if you get stuck in the family section, there should be an automatic substantial deduction to the price of your airline ticket. No questions asked.
On the bright side, I didn’t catch the swine flu. Not that I know of, anyway.
::Writer X also writes at The 100 Most Annoying Things::