Thursday I flew home from the Salty Lake to the Beantown, via Dallas. My flight from SLC to DFW was entertaining due to Chatty Ca*hy as my seatmate (I edited her name for privacy issues). Well, actually she wasn't my mate and we weren't in the same seat so that description may not have been entirely accurate. Anyway, Chatty Ca*hy was an interesting 28 year old single woman swimming in the Salt Lake (that's my way of saying she lives in Salt Lake but isn't a mermaid) headed to Texas for a travel convention. For the first time in all my many flights (excluding the ones to space) I talked with my next-seat-over-friend the entire trip. What did we talk about, you wonder? We exchanged recipes for Kool-Aid (all this time I had been omitting the sugar for taste reasons, but she truly opened my eyes), discussed our favorite The Land Before Time videos, debated the pros and cons of hardcover verses paperback books while kayaking, and rounded out the afternoon with a good old fashioned airplane discussion regarding String Theory. I wanted to bring up the controversial topic of terrorism, but I thought it might not fly on an airplane. (Booyah for the pun.) And plus this was only our first flight together. Maybe if we sit next to each other again we can delve into more personal topics such as a straight or curved back (speaking in terms of haircuts) and the correct singularization of 'Red Sox.' I was impressed with the way Chatty Cat*hy recycled her napkin, by playing with it nervously the entire time she or I acted as interlocutor. I could sense she wasn't much of a wastrel.
The second leg of my two part saga was quite the opposite. I sat next to Whistling Wil*y who didn't say anything to me except whistle really close to my earlobe while I tried to sleep. Anytime I would wake up he would back off immediately and pretend nothing had happened at all, eyeing me nervously. I figured he was probably just an extremely friendly ear, nose, and throat doctor with a passion for helping whatever orifice is most convenient.