As we boarded our flight from Houston to Columbus last night, I noticed that an older guy in the row across from us was switching seats so a young woman could sit next to another young woman. “What a nice gesture by that guy,” I thought.
By the end of the flight, I was cursing him.
These two high school students talked non-stop during the entire plane flight, in that kind of high-pitched, high-speed Valley Girl patois that you just can’t ignore no matter how hard you try. And believe me, I tried. They apparently were returning from some kind of field trip, and they were raring for a complete download. It was an extraordinary exhibition of yakking. I can’t imagine flapping my gums for a solid two-and-a-half hours, even if I had something important to say. These two girls clearly weren’t concerned about that; no incident was too small, no event too mundane, no observation too trivial to escape their prattle.
How do you feel about holding hands? I’d rather put my arm through the guy’s arm, wouldn’t you? I don’t like it when they try to put their fingers through your fingers.
I really prefer rum-and-cokes. I bet I had five of them.
I’m one of those teacher’s pet students who never gets into trouble even when I do something wrong. One time I literally punched a guy and nobody did anything about it. And I was like, whatev! I’m a good student and I guess I get to do what I want!
Omigod! My knee got so sore. And when I looked down at it, there was a red mark on it!
The little snippets from the torrent came flooding over to our side of the plane, and by the end of the trip you could tell that everyone within a three-row radius was gritting their teeth, hoping that the flight would land before their brains turned to mush and restraining themselves from bursting out: “For the love of God, could you please stop talking!”
But there were no outbursts, because people heading back to their homes in the Midwest are polite to a fault. But when the plane landed, you could feel an inner cheer from our fellow travelers, and as we walked through the quiet terminal, on one of the last flights of the night, we all shared a single thought: silence never sounded so good.