1A. 1A is my solitude. It’s my favourite seat on the airplane. It’s a place, where for an hour or two or three, I can be totally alone. Even if the plane is full, I can just sit and be quiet. That is, unless somebody sits beside me who wants to chat. Knowing that there is always the possibility of a Chatty Cathy plopping down beside me, I plan for it. Like a good Boy Scout, I’m prepared. Because of my experience, it is my intention to be the most inaccessible, unapproachable person on the plane.
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| The epitome of a Chatty Cathy that I don't wanna sit beside on plane |
I’ve been a regular flyer since about 1999. I’ve heard more stories about families and jobs and other bad flights than I could ever recount. I’ve had people fall asleep on me. Worse, I’ve woken up on other people. I’ve explained my company and my job to more people than I care to imagine, and since I have often worked for companies that sell products that lots of people don’t understand, by the time I get through the first two sentences of my explanation, my seatmate is already regretting asking about my job in the first place. I remember once spending an entire flight beside a guy, praying that the oxygen masks would drop from the panel above my head because that would be the only thing that could possibly shut buddy up.
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| We may have no oxygen, but at least he's quiet |
So I now have a survival kit that that I take on every flight with me. It’s not food or drink. It’s not even a personal flotation device in case of, well, you know... What it is, is all the tools I need to build an invisible wall around me, complete with a virtual sign that says Do Not Disturb. I have my head phones, my new KOBO, sometimes a magazine, and always, my blackberry. When used in conjunction, these lifesaving components clearly say, ‘I’m Busy. Let’s not chat.” Most people get it, and I believe that most people, secretly, feel the same way.
When you have 80 flights under your belt in a year, you get some privileges from Air Canada that make flying a little easier. You get the occasional upgrade to business class, access to the lounge, and you also get pre-boarding. Pre-boarding for me is like the holy grail. It allows me to get on the plane, and settled before most other people. It’s a dream come true if you don’t want to engage with your fellow passengers. If I’m lucky enough to get upgraded on a fight that has Air Canada’s business class ‘suites’, my problems are solved as there is no easy way for one passenger to speak to another. Great for me, but pretty shitty if you’re travelling with a friend or your wife on a 7 hour flight and you actually want to talk.
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| Solitary Confinement, Refined. |
I know the airport routine by heart. I stay in the lounge, away from all the other people until 5 minutes before boarding, when I exit the lounge and make for the gate, checking of course to make sure the flight isn’t delayed. If it is, I head immediately back to the business centre in the lounge, the place where I’m least likely to be engaged by friendly travelers. Ideally, I arrive at the gate just in time to start boarding. I don’t sit. I get my passport and boarding pass ready, and stand as close to the gate as possible without looking too desperate. I know the gate agent body language and all the steps in the process leading up to boarding by heart. As soon as they get the magic call from the plane clearing them to board, I start to move. By the time they make the announcement, I’m at the desk, and shazam, I’m the first one on the plane. I’m embarrassed to admint that I did possibly push past a granny in a wheelchair one time in my rush to get on board first. It’s certain that I don’t like to engage, but I now at least try to be courteous.
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| The business centre in the lounge. Serenely quiet. |
When I board, I get out my survival kit, stow my luggage, and sit down. I immediately put in my ear buds and fire up the KOBO. By the time my seat mate arrives I’m fully engrossed in whatever I’m doing, even if it’s listening to dead air and reading the same email on my blackberry for the 15th time. I don’t ever say hello. I don’t even make eye contact. There is absolutely nothing welcoming about my body language or behavior. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not rude or ignorant, I’m just not friendly. I’m not into fast friends. It’s just not me. On a trip to Montreal it’s 57 minutes in the air, and an hour and ten minutes, gate to gate. I plan to make the very best of those 70 minutes and catch up on my quality time with myself.
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| Ear phones...STAT! |
On this past Sunday, my plan went sideways. I was completely out of sync. I wasn’t the first one on the plane, but I did beat my seatmate. I got my survival kit out, but didn’t manage to get my ear buds in before my seatmate arrived. I didn’t say hello. I didn’t make eye contact. As much as I tried to disappear into the seat, this woman was hell bent on talking to me.
First it was hello. Then something about her carry-on and the number of people flying on Sunday afternoon. Then she asked for a review of my KOBO. I was doing my damnedest to ignore this chick, but she wasn’t gonna have any part of it. Before I knew it, she hooked me. For a while I was completely focused on how to exit the conversation and get those ear buds in my ears. After 20 minutes, I just gave up. By 30 minutes, I had forgotten completely that I don’t like to talk to people on planes. By 40 minutes in I had made a new friend, and by the time we hit Montreal, I couldn’t believe 57 minutes had passed by so quickly.
My new friend Gayle is the mother of four. She’s building a business. She’s funny, and she’s a blogger (I think a far more professional blogger than me). She’s a reader, she’s inquisitive, she’s busy, and she’s engaging. I reached Montreal a little confused and really questioning my tried and true approach. What have I been missing all these years? How many new facebook friends, twitter followers and linkedin connections could I have amassed across all those thousands of miles that I’ve flown?
As I arrived back at the airport today, I briefly thought about my experience on Sunday. I thought about it as I hid in the business centre of the lounge. I thought about it as I inched my way toward the departure gate so I would be the first one on the plane. I thought about it as I stowed my luggage and got out my survival kit. I put in my ear buds and disappeared into the surroundings as my seat mate arrived. I didn’t make eye contact, and I didn’t say hello. And I wasn’t thinking about changing my approach anymore.
There is no question that I enjoyed my Sunday flight in seat 1C with Gayle occupying seat 1A. She is delightful. It was nice. I just don’t think I have the energy to do that on every flight. Whether I’m seated in 1A, 23F, or 37B, I’m like the boy in the bubble. It’s my space and it’s my time. And I’m not inviting anybody in.
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| I'm not sure how I'd get my bubble through security, but I'd sure try |
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