Sorry, automobiles aren't in this story, I was just trying to be clever playing off of "Planes, Trains and Automobiles" with Steve Martin and John ... ok, you know what? It doesn't matter. Carry on.
I’m a friendly and engaging person with strangers, but I’m not a “let’s talk endlessly about boring crap neither of us really care about” type of person (a smaller, less clunky word I chose not to use for some reason is “small talk”).
Which is why on airplanes, I tend to keep to myself. Not that some people aren’t fascinating, it’s just that those people usually don’t sit next to me and I’ve been burned far too many times sitting next to men named Ron who complain throughout the entire three hour flight that their wife doesn’t properly balance her checkbook.
By the way, Ron – if you’re reading this - how are the grandkids? Did Joey end up getting the chickenpox?
I usually fly Southwest, which is basically a non-deadly version of the Hunger Games, but don’t get it twisted - I’ll cut a biotch if she tries to get in front of me with her B32 boarding pass when I’m a B29. And don’t think being elderly and honestly having no idea why people are herding together like desperate cattle is an adequate excuse, either. You’re in the jungle baby, and you about to get the middle seat!
But back to my point - talking to strangers.
