Flying home from LGA is always a treat, what with the icky terminals with nothing but a pretzel stand and inevitable delays. So this past week you can imagine my excitement when I scored a seat all by myself on the tiny, all business no play aircraft. So there I was, settling in with The Love Affairs of Nathaniel P. and a Coke with ice, watching all the tired suits trudging to their seats. We all were pumped for a quiet flight and some serious napage.
Then they boarded.
Two women, early thirties I would guess, wearing matching fluorescent sweat suits of some sort of terrycloth/polyester blend and yelling “Here we are!” in their thick Jersey accents. I quickly said a prayer that they would sit at the rear of the plane so I could nap in peace, but it was no use – they stumbled to seats right across the aisle, immediately making a friend sitting behind me who reminded them of “a regular Jersey hottie.”
They took shots of red wine. They read aloud from Us Weekly’s Who Wore It Best to practice “Nashville accents.” They gave each other massages while talking about all the “honky tonks” they wanted to “dominate” during their trip. Everything they said was heard by me and everybody on the plane, including the nice flight attendant who cut them off. Let’s turn this into a learning moment, shall we? Here are some things to never say to a stranger on a plane:
I had sex on the first night I met my boyfriend.
I threw up all over everything two flights ago. Weird, huh?
I don’t really read, I mean, I don’t live on Manhattan.
Do you work out?
Are you so excited to get on this plane?
Are you gonna finish that?
Are you Italian or is there a little bit African wrapped in there?
Celebrities are all over Nashville and I can’t wait to pounce with my digital camera.
Do you party hard like I party hard?
You want to ask for my number.