I rarely talk on airplanes. I usually sit down, pull out a book or my headphones, and try to relax until I get from point A to point B. Not today.
It all started with my bag. You see, I acquired stuff at my dad's house, and decided to take a bag of it back up with me to DC -- a little blue gym bag that may or may not have been the bag I used for summer camp one year, back in the mid-1980s. Despite the fact that the bag was tiny, it would not fit in the overhead bin, thanks to some oversized suitcases and a whole bunch of tennis rackets. (Note to self: Next time you're in Florida, remember to look for your old tennis racket in the garage.)
So the guy next to me volunteered to let me put it in front of his seat. He then commented that he could judge how stressful someone's job was by the size of their coffee cup -- I happened to be drinking a Starbucks Venti Green Tea at the time. This, of course, started a conversation.
We proceeded to spend the whole two-and-a-half hour flight talking. I quickly realized that he was quite intoxicated, which made it all the more fun for me. And it got better when he found out that the onboard beverage service was cash only.
I think the highlight for him was when we started going through the Sky Mall catalog, only to find that almost every page of his copy had been defaced with hand drawn pictures of male genitalia. He thought it was hysterically funny, so I told him to rent Superbad.
The flight seemed to go by very quickly. Clearly I need to allow myself to be entertained by random strangers more often.