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On my flights last weekend, I had the good fortune to be seating next to two totally different, charming, and interesting people. On the way out, I sat next to a lovely woman in her 50s. She was from South Dakota and off to Vegas with her girlfriend (seated somewhere in the back of the plane and oh, get THIS, I sat next to the girlfriend on the connecting flight back!). My seat neighbor ran a day care center, was going to see Bette Midler, worried about health insurance as a very small business owner, was the daughter of a college professor, and rarely gets out of her hometown. She was a delight, fun to talk to, good company, and time just (sorry) flew by.
Then, on my way home, I sat next to a young guy who works on the deck of a commercial fishing vessel out of Seattle. He lives in Salt Lake with his wife, but works for weeks at a time out at sea, pulling nets full of fish out of the ocean. He'd wanted to be a marine biologist but didn't go to school, now he says he gets to see things he'd never see in the classroom -- whales and all kinds of marine life. He told me they have email on the ship, that it costs 8 cents a minute to call home via satellite phone, and that sometimes, when he's on night shift, he doesn't see the sun for a very long time. We didn't talk the whole time -- I was beat -- but as a person who lives in a fishing town, I really enjoyed meeting a guy who works in that industry. Oh, Alaskan Pollack, and apparently, they're abundant this year.
Both of these companions don't totally make up for the time I sat next to the drunk, misogynistic and antisemitic German, or the screaming baby (again, save your letters and postcards and admit it, it's not fun to sit next to a screaming baby for too long, even if said screamer is yours). A good seatmate can make or break a flight. You can make a friend or pray for it to end quickly.
Here's a very sweet post about travelers bonding on a flight to Chicago:
Mason and I made our way through the Atlanta airport train to our second flight. He was happy to have me guide him through the crowds and onto the train. "I wasn't sure how I would get there," he said. I showed him the way to the gate and left him to get some food while I waited at the gate. My name was called--my upgrade had come through. I went to the gate agent and explained that I'd prefer to stay in my original seat--she could give the upgrade to someone else.--37 Days
And here's a Flyer Talk thread about not so talky seatmates:
Would it seem strange to you to sit inches from someone else for over 12 hours and not say hardly a word to them? It seems like two human beings could find something in common to break up the extreme tedium of a long international flight. Some arrangement could be set up that conversation would end when the other person wanted to sleep or just relax. Flyer Talk
There's a funny, snarky post on Wired's Terminal Man series (in case you didn't follow, he's the guy who spent an ungodly amount of time living in airports) about the Seatmate From Hell:
I doubt few will compare to Shauna, who I met on yesterday’s Newark to Orlando flight. I had just moved to an aisle seat in her otherwise empty row so I could stretch out. As the flight attendants finished the safety briefing, Shauna (We’ve changed her name) leaned in and asked if I was allergic to dogs. I replied that I wasn’t, and she pulled a chihuahua from what I thought was a handbag. Its faux-diamond necklace, spelling out KIKI, told me that I had just made one of the worst seating decisions of my life.--Terminal Man
On the Independent, there's an article about what makes the worst seatmate:
A poll of nearly 1,600 travellers from the US and Canada found that air passengers with "poor hygiene" are the least desirable travellers with whom to share an armrest.--Worst Seatmate: Follow Your Nose
I'm feeling pretty lucky after this last batch of flights. On my originating flight, the first leg from Seattle to Salt Lake, the middle seat in my row
