I read a book recently all about how we attract what we project to the world. I can only assume this means that the reason I attract crazy people like a moth to a flame is because they are recognizing a crazy kindred spirit. In any case, something about me causes all manner of bizarre people to shimmy on over to me and explode their weirdness all over the place.
Beware of chatty seatmates
A particularly memorable and aggressively weird experience happened on a flight a few years ago. I sat down in the back of the plane in a window seat on a fairly empty flight. Shortly after I sat down, a 20-something year old guy comes and sits in the middle seat right next to me, despite the plethora of more desirable window and aisle seats available up front. As a member of the female gender, I will objectively state that he was an attractive man, but as I am married and blind to those sorts of things, I did not really notice. He was wearing nice clothes and I’m sure if I’d asked him, he would have rated himself a definite 10. It was apparent that he thought he was hot stuff.
He sat down and stared at me, and I pretended to be engrossed in the current issue of SkyMall (There was no pretending, I love SkyMall and was probably mulling over a Hermione’s Time Turner Necklace Authentic Replica purchase.) Oblivious to my SkyMall fixation, my seat mate decided to initiate some small talk.
Let’s call him “Chad”, because I can’t remember his name, but he just seemed like someone who would be named Chad.
Chad’s opening lines
Chad: “Where are you going?”
Amy: “San Antonio”
Chad: “Me too!”
Amy: ….
Chad: “And you’re flying out of Alabama?”
Amy:… “Yes…”
Chad: Me too!! (I could tell that this conversation was headed in a scholarly direction, now that we had established we were departing and arriving at the same locations. On the same plane.)
Still hoping for more small talk fodder, he looked down at my bag, which happened to be a laptop bag I stole from my husband, who got it at the Air Force Academy. He then asked, “Do you work at the White House?” To which I flirtatiously replied, “No.” Well it must have been a flirtatious response, because he took that reply as an invitation to become bestest friends forever for the rest of the flight. He asked where I got the bag, and I informed him that it’s my husband’s bag and I borrowed it from my husband because my husband went to the Air Force Academy and then my husband graduated and now he’s my husband and oh did I mention that I have a husband?
He paused briefly to consider this and then asked about my husband and how long we’d been married. I told him we’d been married for a year, to which he replied, “Oh, so it’s not very serious, then?” My blank stare must have clearly communicated, “Oh yes, I’m sort of married, but he’s gone a lot, you’re hot, and I’m a total floozy so don’t even worry about that little detail.”
But wait, there’s more.
The flight attendant stood up to explain the intricacies of an airplane seatbelt and what to do should a water evacuation become necessary (which, really, in a flight from Alabama to Texas, I feel like the pilot would have to be aiming for a body of water in order for that to happen, but that really is neither here nor there) and my seat mate continued to talk to me, even though I couldn’t hear a word of what he was saying. Ready to end this never ending small talk, I popped in my ear buds and I dove deep into my People magazine, thinking that he would not have any interest in the most recent Bachelor couple.
This proved to be an ineffective strategy. He peered over my shoulder, pointing at pictures and motioning for my to take my ear buds out to better hear his scintillating commentary. If I turned the page on an article without reading it, he’d say “Wait, I want to read that article!” I decided I would just give him the magazine and pulled out another one. He took the magazine and then proceeded to show me all of the pictures and tell me how my hair looks just like that girl’s hair and he likes ponytails and have I ever thought of cutting my hair shorter?
Eventually he seemed to notice that I was not enjoying this little reading group he’d created and he shut up for a few moments. I took this gloriously quiet time to fantasize about locking my seat mate in the tiny airplane lavatory, and he took this time to finalize his next attempt to dazzle me. Confident he had just the angle to really rev my engine for him, he suddenly blurted out:
Chad: “What kind of mattress do you and your husband have?”
Amy: “Um… the kind that you sleep on.”
Chad: “But what brand is it?”
Amy: (insert extremely perplexed/annoyed/creeped out facial expression here)
Chad: “I’m only asking because I have a high position at Mattress Firm and I’d love to help you and your husband pick out a great mattress.”
Amy: “Are you trying to schmooze me so I’ll buy a mattress from you??”
CHad: “No!! I’m not even a sales guy. I work for the guy who works for the CEO. I don’t get any sort of commission, I just really think we have the best mattresses and I want to help a cool girl I met on the plane!” (He stared at me with confident anticipation, thinking I would suddenly swoon knowing that I’m sitting next to the assistant-to-the-assistant-to-the-CEO.)
Amy: “I think we’re good.”
Chad: “No, really, do you like your mattress firm? Soft? Do you want one that’s adjustable?”
Amy: “We like our mattress. We’re fine.”
Chad: “I’m just really passionate about what I do and my company.”
Amy: “Saving the world, one mattress at a time.”
Chad: “It’s a pretty great job.”
This continued on and on and on. He kept name-dropping all of these corporate big wigs (because who doesn’t keep up on the who’s who of the mattress empire), and he detailed his entire career plan. I stared straight ahead and switched to fantasizing about force feeding him an entire issue of People magazine so he couldn’t talk anymore. Disappointed with my reaction to sitting so close to mattress royalty, he tried a new approach and thrust his cell phone screen to my face and showed me pictures of his sister’s expensive pet cat that plays fetch. It was truly riveting.
And this is where our love story ends
Thankfully, the flight was drawing to a close. He said that he wanted to keep in touch, and asked if he could write down my name so he could add me on Facebook. I pretended to be distracted with getting my bag out from under my seat. Still refusing to accept any sort of hint that I was not interested in being lifetime buddies, he told me how to spell his name so that I could look him up. He had some super long greek last name, and asked if I was going to write it down so I could remember it and look him up. After I failed to do this, he put one of his business cards in my hand and asked me to keep in touch, but the only thing his business card kept in touch with was the trash can.
Every now and then I lay in bed at night and think about him and wonder…
…If I could be sleeping on an amazing free mattress if I’d added him on Facebook.
Still one of my favorite stories!!!!