Has anyone else ever experienced this...
So I'm flying back from Hobart on Sunday. I'm feeling jaded, a bit sad, and ready to see my family again. I'm thinking, well it might be a long while until I'm on a plane by myself again, I have my book, a Sunday newspaper and I'm sorted. I get on the plane to find my seat is beside a guy, kinda nice looking (not a patch on The Husband if he's reading this!) and definitely not the old lady I sat next to on the way down. I don't think I can switch off into vagues-ville now. I'm going to be aware of my companion the whole flight. Whatsmore, we are sitting in the emergency row, so the air steward gives us a wee lecture on what to do in the state of an emergency. We have a bit of a joke about this when she leaves, but in my fugue and tiredness there is nothing witty coming out of my mouth, just ummmm, awkwardness.
Think about it, when you are on a plane, there isn't much personal space, to chat to someone, you are very close and need to have one of those sideways conversations in a much closer proximity than normal. And it's like you need to make that decision - to chat or not to chat.
It's a two hour flight, so I'm thinking - Not To Chat option sounds a little more appropriate. But I get the feeling he's made the To Chat option. There is a palable awareness of each other. And because I was on my way home, I had a supermarket plastic bag with a couple of browning bananas, apples and some almonds, as well as my handbag. The air steward tells me, she'll have to put it up in lockers above the seat. Shite, now I'm going to have to reach up for it when the plane lands, potentially revealing, tummy rolls, muffin tops and too tight jeans. Gawd!
Awkwardly we travel, until 10 minutes from landing, he decides it's "safe" enough to chat, we've only got a short period we'll have to make conversation. And so we do. And he's an interesting, charming and pleasant guy. And still kinda good looking. I get our stuff out of the storage above, forgetting tummy rolls, we stand at the luggage carousel together, he makes fun of my too-large-for-a-weekend bag that I hump off the conveyor belt. His ride is coming in 15 mins and mine is in 30 mins (!). I'm thinking geez, are we supposed to stand together while we wait?
Nah!! We say our goodbyes, shows over folks.
But funny, I think one of the things I was concerned about if our chatting had got into that territory was the fact that if he'd found out I had 3 kids and one was almost 10, he might have worked out how old I actually am. Proud? Vain? Dunno! But I'm becoming increasingly uncomfortable with telling people how old I am. I don't feel my age, I'm trying hard not to look it, I don't think my body feels it's age, but fact is fact. I AM that age.
And it's moments like this on the flight, where I'd really rather not be it!
Yeah, I think it is vanity isn't it. I think there's a whole chapter I could write about this!
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