How does this work?

So, I was flying from Vancouver to Brussels on seat 14A. As I was contemplating the distance to which I had to toss my bag into the hold, a tall man sauntered up the aisle and said…

“Sorry.”

I was confused, apologised myself and sat down in my seat and looked out of the window (First rule of flying – do not look at fellow travellers)

The guy opened his suitcase, took a banana and placed it in the seat holders, then took a vegan bar. By now I was curious, and I peeked a look at him. Tall, Dutch/German looking standard traveller (Aryan type – thanks very much).

I went back to looking out of the window, trying to depress my curiosity.

“Where are you from?”

The question knocked me a bit, “Excuse me?”

“Where are you from?”

“I live in Brussels.”

“Where is that?”

“Uhm, Belgium, in Europe.”

Silence.

“What are you doing here?”

“I work here. Now I am going home for a week.”

Silence.

“That is a long way to go to go home…”

“Yeah. I am a bit homesick.”

More silence.

I broke it this time, “So what do you do?”

“I play hockey.”

“Ahhh. For which team?”

“Team Canada.”

Awkward silence, while I debated if he was expecting me to fawn on him or pretend I even knew him.

“Amazing, I am next to a celebrity”, I mumbled.

“What?”

“Nothing. So where are you going?”

“Zurich. So, where is Brussels?”

“Uhm, it’s next to Amsterdam.” I pulled out the Lufthansa map and pointed it to him.

“So, have you travelled in Europe?”

“Yeah, when I was younger”

“Where can I go? Is Southern Spain nice?”

“Yes”

“Barcelona? Greece? Greece is dangerous, isn’t it? St. Tropez, Ibiza?”

The guy started messaging on his iPhone at top speed, inspite of the attendant warning him repeatedly.

My head was aching a bit. So I pretended to watch the clouds.

He told me, “There are seats in front”

“Okay” (“Does he expect me to leave this seat?”)

“If we move, we can get more space…”

“Okay?”

He sat there for take-off, while I pretended to be busy with watching paint dry. By now, I had a huge smile on my face. For the first time in my life, I had met a jock type.

I took my laptop out and connected it to the onboard WiFi.

“You have internet here?”

“Yes.”

He took his iPad out and stared at it as if it would magically sprout wings and have WiFi.

“How does this work?”

I was a little baffled, but showed him how to use the tablet that was designed for your grandmother to use. But not jocks evidently.

He stared at it after connecting. “Still doesn’t work”

“Why don’t you type google.com?”

He typed labouriously.

http://www.nhl.com

That pretty much made my day.

Thank you, cute jock boy who plays for Team Canada. That was the most fun I ever had on one of my flights. Ever. All the best in Zurich.

I hear Croatia is great this time of the year.

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About Shrutz

More laughs than a barrelful of monkeys!

Posted on April 27, 2012, in Arbit, First person narratives and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink. 5 Comments.

  1. Your lucky, I always get to sit next to old people that smell

  2. LOL ! The ‘Moose Miller’ of real life :)

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