“Wonderful. Six hours of listening to somebody else’s child.”
Then a man across the aisle opened a bag of chips.
“Does nobody understand basic manners anymore?” she muttered.
Finally, she put on a pair of expensive-looking headphones.
I thought we might have some peace.
Unfortunately, five minutes later, she ripped them off.
“You’ve got to be kidding me! The battery’s dead!”
“Maybe the flight attendant could help you charge them?” I suggested.
She tapped my arm.
“I don’t need your advice.”
I returned to my magazine. A minute later, she tapped my arm.
“Could you stop making that noise?”
“What noise?”
“That awful breathing. It’s like sitting next to a broken vacuum cleaner.”
She glared.
I blinked.
“Well, I could try holding my breath, but I don’t think I’d make it to landing.”
She glared at me. Apparently, humor wasn’t among her interests.
Trying to lighten the mood, I mentioned that I was visiting my grandchildren for Halloween.
