I absolutely NEVER sit next to cute guys on airplanes.
And I have been on a lot of airplanes.
The seating chart roulette always lands me next to those little kids that squeal and kick the backs of other people’s seats repetitively, and then those other people flip their heads backwards and send me those small snarky glares meant to intimidate me into controlling my child. Either that, or old woman.
Not that I have anything at all against them, it’s just that they don’t happen to be cute guys.
Which, biased though I may be, is always preferable.
“God, I love karma.”
I thought to myself while heartily examining the back view of the young man taking up all my compartment space in the overhead storage area.
Normally I’d be significantly ticked off by the intrusive demeanor of his luggage. Except that him placing his lumpy orange duffel all up in my space meant only one thing.
That my space, was his, to get all up in.
I don’t remember his name, apologies, was a bit distracted. However I guarantee that it was a very nice one, in fact there’s probably a couple of colognes named after him, and one dedicated solely to his fresh and dewy in-flight airplane scent.
So I’m sitting there, avoiding the armrest and all eye contact, safety informational tutorial droning on in the background. Alerting me in the case of emergency, to remove all high heel shoes, as they may puncture a hole in the aircraft slide.
Here I am, trying to think of something remarkably stunning to say. Wishing I knew Cameron Diaz’s cousin or something, so that I could casually slingshot it into a conversation, racking up a jackpot of “cool by association” points.
When all of a sudden I blurt out, “I lost my passport!!!”
And it worked. Instant conversation. Just add water.
In no time flat, he became very interested in where and when the last time I remember having my passport (and ticket…) was.
This is a start.
Maintaining interest in each other is a key factor to any steady relationship.
And he was down on his hands and knees, checking around my seat, and under the feet of my neighbors. I was tearing apart my backpack, and flipping wildly through those pamphlets filled with overpriced items in the back pouches of each seat.
And all of this would have probably been just fine and dandy.
If it hadn’t been that I really had lost my passport, and if the flight attendant man with the perfectly parted, if slightly greasy hair hadn’t come over and informed us that in order for take-off all passengers had to be securely buckled as was announced in the safety instructional video. Which I hadn’t necessarily been watching said video as I had much more important tasks to complete at the time, like losing my passport.
Ever wondered how to lose something you’re clutching in both hands and guarding with your life? Look an Irish man in the eyes.
When I stand up to do one last search in my overhead baggage, I glimpse a lonely looking passport neglected in a far corner.
Sure enough, it had my very own horrifically un-photogenic picture gracing the inside cover.
Maybe there’s a very good reason I never sit next to cute guys on airplanes.
…It’s for my own good.