You change... not me!

The plane was loading and I found my seat.

It was in the middle of three.

I settled in to make the best of the flight home.

I tend to be a bit tense when flying. (Like really!)

You want what?

A woman next to me in the aisle seat (the place I would have preferred) started a conversation.  She asked me if I would move over to the window seat because her friend was coming and had that one and they wanted to sit next to each other.

I considered this although I didn’t want that seat because I don’t like heights and the temptation to look out and see clouds below me is not comforting!  (Yes, I know I could lower the shade on the window.)

But then I had another idea.

If she wanted to sit next to her friend, would she trade her aisle seat for my middle seat?

Then they would be together.

She shook her head strongly and stated: “No.” She wanted the aisle seat.

Oh, I thought... so you want others to change but not you.

Hmmmm.

I could consider that she might have had a medical condition that she didn't want to share.

But this episode made me smile.  I should probably wonder how many times I also want others to change... but not me.

Anyway, I took the window seat and was really more comfortable than I would have been between the two of them!

But I texted my family that I was not in the seat that had been assigned me.  This was to let them know in case we crashed and all the bodies were burned beyond recognition, etc.  

Yep, I’m that kind of flyer!

But also - once I recognize a negative thought, I can also think on the positive side of flying and how safe it is compared to just driving to the airport!

And somehow just writing this stuff down makes it better.  Guess it helps to laugh at yourself too.

He’s a “what”?

This brings to mind another time I was sitting in the middle seat.  My husband Paul and I were taking an early morning flight to the west coast.  Paul had the aisle seat and the fellow next to me in the window seat was wearing a hoodie and had consumed two or three Bloody Mary’s or something - and it wasn’t 7 a.m. yet!

It crossed my mind that he might be living out the old saying... “eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we die!”... or was a terrorist.  (I don't know why I had that last thought but I figure they can come in all forms and sizes.)

Because we were so tightly seated next to each other I didn’t dare whisper this thought to my husband. Then the fellow settled down and fell asleep.

When we were almost to our destination he jerked upright and slung his arm across me pinning me in my seat.

My initial reaction was: “Oh SH#%T!  He really is a terrorist!”

But then he looked at me startled and slid back down in his seat.  It was just a muscle spasm.  

We landed without incident and as we walked away from the plane my husband whispered to me... “Doesn’t he look like a terrorist?”  

I just smiled.

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