In one of my trans-Atlantic voyages to Europe, I had the joy of sitting next to an expert in languages. I don’t remember the layout of the plane, but I normally take a window seat so I can sleep against the window so I am not completely zonked when I land in Amsterdam. I get on early due to my FF status (at least I can put my bags where I want them and don’t have to cram) and I am sitting there relaxing listening to my MP3 player as the rest of the cattle herd in for the flight.
Very slowly, an older woman approached the empty aisle seat and my heart sunk as she looked at me and rattled off something in Arabic – a language that I am completely clueless in. I kind of shook my head and shrugged. There was another woman in the center section that heard it and told her something in her native language and then informed me that it was indeed Arabic… and that she had told her that I did not understand what she was talking about. I did my best to be polite and wormed my way out of the conversation and stuffed my ear buds back in my ears and retreated to my own little world.
Sitting there listening to my tunes as the plane filled up, I thought it would be just another ride. We took off; things began settling down… they started throwing drinks at us… which I gladly accepted. She found the button that allowed her seat to recline… and quickly used it to lean back as far as she could. A guy in the next row who was well in excess of 6′ tall leaned his seat back just a little to also get comfortable. Well my new friend did not like that one bit and began chattering away wildly. I was spared much of the sound thanks to Shure’s sound isolation technology, but I could not escape all of it. She cycled through her three languages – Arabic, Arabic + crying, and Arabic + self flagellation. It was bizarre. Finally, she calmed down through intervention of an FA and the translator lady.
The real fun began when her coughing started up. She began coughing those wet, deep lung coughs that you can just visualize the phlegm oozing through the lungs. Soon there was no imagination necessary… as she began loudly “hocking” up material before spitting it into a tissue that she was holding. She then found the air sickness bag and began coughing and spitting into it.
I did my best to ignore the smell and sounds… and ate my dinner with as much booze as I could get my hands on (thankfully the FAs were sympathizing with everyone around her in the form of booze)… and curled up to my window ready for a sleep. They turned the lights off in the plane and Mrs. Hocker screamed and grabbed my arm shaking it. I jolted awake… and she was jabbing one of her claws at the ceiling… so I pushed the light button. She let out a relief sigh and began gabbing some more. Great – so she is afraid of the dark.
The booze made the rest of the flight bearable – but she thought it was a good idea to wait until almost everyone was off the plane before moving her butt. I picked close to the front of the plane for a reason – but oh well – I made it.
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