I am very cranky tonight because I should have yelled at someone in the airport tonight. I should have made a scene. I should have made everyone look. But I didn't. I was feeling so awkward—I defaulted to politeness which is sometimes the worst of all.
There were two parts of my trip. During the first flight, I happened to sit next to a guy who would be on the next plane as well. He said, almost as soon as he sat down, Hey, can you tap me when they bring the drink cart by? I said sure because the request seemed pretty benign.
And it was. The flight attendants delivered the warm cookies. Delicious. Thank you. I had barely started to crumple my napkin when he said, I'll take that for you. A very nice/weird gesture. But, fine—thank you.
Then the drinks. I had barely finished my drink before he gestured to take that for me too, to stack it neatly underneath his own in the corner of his tray. And then he asked for my napkin—It was getting a little strange. But, whatever.
We talked for a second. He was from California. Moved to Utah, got married, couldn't seem to leave the state, etc. etc. Then I went back to my book. But as we landed in Denver, he started telling me all these crazy stories about the airport. It was built on a native american burial ground. It has the only skybridge in the world, maybe, where the planes can taxi underneath! because it was part of the deal—you know—because they built this thing—they had to build this bridge—and it's quiet but they play this tribal music 24 hours a day—the songs can't be recorded or anything—they aren't sold anywhere—have you ever heard about it? you've never heard about it? they say one time there was this accident one time because the music was turned off...also—there's 3 terminals and terminal B is a mile long, but on the side of terminal A, there's all this weird art with aliens and stuff—it's weird.
By this time, I was in super-polite mode. Super polite mode. And looking out the window.
I knew we'd be in the same waiting area for the next flight. So, I deliberately picked a seat behind where he was facing. I hoped if I wasn't in his line of sight, he wouldn't bother me. Just as the flight attendents called the pre-boarding passengers, he sat down in the seat right next to me.
Despite the earphones, despite the obvious engagement of activity on a laptop, he asked: Did you go see the skybridge? I said, No, I'm too lazy. Then he said, There's still time, it's only 3 escalators down. I said, No thank you. I need to write some emails. He said, Oh, come on—there's plenty of time. Look at all these people who need to board the plane. I said, I just want to sit here. But thank you for the offer. He laughed. Then said, Are you married?
I said, No I'm not.
Then he said, Do you want to be married?
Dear people. I should have yelled at him for being so disgusting. I hated him. Not because he was asking me if I wanted to be married, but because he actually thought that line would work. He thought he could just sit next to me and flirt with me and it would work. I was so grossed out I just started telling him crazy things. No, I don't—it's not worth it. I don't want a boyfriend. No, I don't like children. No, I don't think I would like my own children. By now, we were deserted. Everyone was in line. Just me, and my polite responses to a sociopath. It's fine people. It's fine. (I finally just stood up and left him there) (even though he was asking after me, You're really going to wait in that long line of people?)
(forgive me for being so polite)