The Friendly Skies – And Guys
December 25th, 2009I’m cuter when I travel.
This theory was established long ago and has been proven many times. In my last entry, I failed to mention – my boyfriends of holidays past? Almost all of those relationships began on airplanes. And of course, we can’t forget Extra Large Jerk. That damn middle seat! I’ve been doing a lot of traveling lately – as in, meeting lots of men. Not that it’s getting me anywhere, but it certainly has been entertaining.
On the way back from a recent trip I sat next to a really hot guy who didn’t speak English. The second I saw him in the seat next to mine the cheesy porn music started to play in my head, and a thought bubble appeared that had us making out while the rest of the flight slept. That bubble immediately popped when I realized I would be his interpreter and slave for the duration of the flight. He wanted headphones? He nudged me and motioned at his ears for headphones. He wanted juice? He nudged me and made a drinking motion. He wanted to get up and go to the bathroom? No nudge. He basically just climbed over me. I couldn’t get off that flight fast enough.
This week I found myself on yet another airplane. And in a random Christmas miracle, I got upgraded. I love it when that happens. Getting upgraded is like getting fixed up on a blind date and you’re shocked when he shows up and he’s cute. Flying Business Class is one of life’s great mini-pleasures. I swear, even crying babies sound better in First. I scanned the cabin. There were a couple of cute guys, including the lead guy from “Lost.” (Okay, I got a little star-struck on that one.) And sitting in seat 2A? A pretty decent-looking guy, average, not too pretty. The chatting started almost immediately, the usual “get-to-know you” conversation, with me trying to be cute and him trying to be cool. Holiday travel is actually great for that first conversation because you can commiserate over your airport woes, talk about where you’re going, complain about your family, all the while sizing each other up.
By the end of the flight, I either date them or hate them. This one had promise. Until -
Strike 1: He was a writer – of SELF HELP BOOKS. I usually love a fellow writer. But, I can’t date Tony Robbins. I’d slit my wrists by dinner.
Strike 2: He bugged the flight attendant with requests and complaints. I don’t know if I have said this before, but on my list of things I despise? People who take advantage of the help.
Strike 3: Was going to be the extreme amount of hairy butt-crack that he exposed getting something out of his bag under his seat. But actually he was out at Strike 1.
Oh well, there’s always the return flight.
I have never understood how anyone could board a plane, sit down next to a complete stranger and proceed to tell each other their entire life stories. You don’t know this person, you never saw him before, and you’ll never see him again. Ironically enough it happens all the time. It happened to a friend of mine, she married him they had two children and divorced. He turned out to be a real jerk. I know you are NOT that desperate. I’m still looking for Mr. Right to introduce you to. Happy New Year!