I had barely wedged myself into my seat, 35b, the middle one, when I became certain of two things. One, I didn’t like the woman in 35a, and two, I wasn’t getting off this plane without her getting me sick.
It’s amazing how quickly the human brain can come to conclusions, the almost instantaneous accumulation and assimilation of information juxtaposed against our assumptions and experiences. A split second ending in a decision of how you believe you’ll interact or treat a person without them having said a word.
The first indicator was her posture, rolled up in a ball, both feet on a black backpack, pressing her knees up, leaning on the wall, the window shade closed. A baseball hat, green, yellow, red, black and white with a coat of arms of some sort, pressed low over ponytailed hair; stringy, greasy and brown, but not “pretty” brown. It was more “we will call this brown because that’s what it mostly resembles.” The adjustment part of the hat emblazoned with “Jordan”. Not Michael’s Jordan, I would assume the country. No makeup, a small silver hoop in the ear facing me. Phone in her left hand texting someone violently in between chewing on her right hand. Fingernails, bottom of thumb, back to finger nail, audible. Gross. Chewing and chewing and chewing.
None of this mattered though because the very first thing I noticed as I lowered myself down was that she didn’t budge even a millimeter from the armrest. Not that I expected to get it, but I’d think there should be at the least a shift, a “let’s let this person get situated” before laying claim. No, she had planted her flag, perhaps the flag of Jordan, on the armrest, and I wasn’t getting it. No way, no how.
//
I was blessed with the ability to sleep on planes. I get on the plane, cross my arms, sometimes put on a hat and sunglasses, press play on either music or a podcast and fall into a deep coma, many times before the plane has even pulled away from the jetway. As I was in the middle and not really ready to make new friends, I crossed my arms, leaned my head back and began to hear the snot running out of the head of the woman next to me.
Not just a little sniffle, she kept making deep mucous filled sniffs and mouth exhales followed by short bouts of coughing. I am not a germaphobe, but if 2020-2021 did nothing else, it should have heightened our awareness of the bodily functions coming out of our heads, the common courtesies that all kindergartners seem to have grasped, but not it appeared, this grown adult. Coughs, sneezes, and sniffs rolled forth for the next two hours with barely the back of a hand to cover her mouth. Her sneezes rumbling the whole row enough that I made eye contact with my wife across the aisle and her eyes, saucer like, conveyed what I was thinking. “Good luck!” Or maybe “Are you kidding me??” I pulled up the hood of my sweatshirt in hopes of blocking the errant phlegm. Time would tell if my guard was successful.
//
In between the coughs and sputters, the woman read. Something in dark mode, the print small enough for me to have required my reading glasses. I really wasn’t interested or doing whatever the equivalent of visual “eavesdropping” is. (snooping?, spying?, spotting?”). I am just relaying the things I noticed after each uncovered sneeze shook all of row 35 and splattered snot on the closed shade.
As the plane slowly descended there seemed to be a subtle change in the woman’s demeanor, perhaps a “my work here is done” realization. As we got closer to the ground, she opened the shade and shifted her focus from the phone. Now she chewed her right hand and gazed out into the morning as we approached Dulles International. Northern Virginia rising up to greet us. She went to close it, but noticed I too looked out into the morning. She gave a pause and seemed to let me peek. I looked, nodded, and then went back to protecting what was left of my immune system.
A thunderous sneezed followed.
//
Upon landing everyone did their part to either be a courteous human and allow the flow of passengers to calmly exit in the decided upon row order, or in the case of a family of 6, jump up from a row hugging the toilet wall and scoot forward quickly, thereby saving 8 precious seconds in their time on this world. I got up and let the woman in 35a go ahead of me and my family as there were bags to retrieve, and I had the luxury of those 8 seconds.
She got up, slung her black backpack and her silver and black ASICS, slowly came out and headed up the aisle.
Giving one last pause to try and not get more sick, my keen sense of noticing kicked into high gear, keeping the luggage firmly between me and the doughy female who likely infected at the least me, and possibly the rows in front and behind us.
She.
Was a he.
#hugsandhi5s
I was totally not expecting this… this was so good and funny at the same time. I can picture it like I was sitting there next to the woman in 35A. You have such a gift with words. Sorry you got sick. 😷
Good to see you post again. You’ve elicited empathy, and a slight smile, having lived this journey and the dread of wondering if my immune system will be successful in staving off impending doom. Good luck to your system and the healthy fuel you provide it.