For those needing a refresher, Southwest Airlines has an Open Seating Policy which requires some calculus to understand the boarding process.
Otherwise known as 'Freedom to Choose Your Seat' begins at check in where customers are assigned into groups A B or C and a number between one and 60. This procedure was introduced to minimize the feeling passengers described as 'The Cattle Call' or free-for-all that may or may not have been happening at the gate.
I love to notice human behavior when subjected to Select Your Seat. Those already seated will either scan incoming passengers to try to make eye contact with someone 'acceptable' to sit next to or completely bury their face in the in-flight magazine while placing a host of personal belongings on the vacant seat next to them to create the illusion that the seat is taken. The only behavior I adopt is the bury-my-face-and-hope-no-one-wants-to-sit-with-me.
The past few times I've flown southwest alone and have probably checked-in later than others. Despite arriving to the airport at the prescribed time, I seem to end up with boarding passes that are in the C-51 range. Seats with that lot are slim pickings and I'm likely to get the poor soul who needs the arm rest up to fit us both or has a hacking cough.
On one of my flights to Utah, I picked a window seat in the very last row and was joined by a young woman donning giant dark sunglasses who had a special visit by security at the gate while the rest of the cattle boarded. Someone must have reported her displays of emotional instability and possible intoxication. Apparently, a search through her Gi-Normous pocket book yielded no fruit for TSA. She was allowed on the plane and planted herself with a sigh, next to me. She spent the preflight time alternating weepy calls to her mother and hate calls to another woman combined with calls to the phone company demanding a few numbers be blocked. She spent her in-flight time with her head zipped inside her coat.
Burying my head in The Hunger Games was not sufficient to drown out her engaging the flight attendant with tales of her failed rendezvous and calling us all "Shugga".
Back to my flight OUT of Utah. Quickly scanning the available seat mates hoping I could avoid another row 'situation', I decide the safest bet would be an older man I saw in a window seat about halfway down the aisle. I really had no idea how old he was, but he wasn't coughing, would surely leave the arm rest between us, and hopefully not talk to me.
As I approached the row, he never looked up from his paper once. This was a BONUS and confirmed I was making the right selection as I knew instantly he wanted to be avoided as much as I did. He had the window seat, I took the center seat. I think there may have been a Mormon missionary in the aisle seat as evidenced by his business casual attire, clean cut look, and Quad scripture book open and well worn. Now THIS I could handle. I have known countless missionaries and understand what their lives are like. He'd probably be fun to talk to and learn what exotic place he is being shipped off to. This was going to be a decently drabby flight and I was pleased with my C-51 ticket lot.
A mere minutes after take off. I glance past the older gentleman out the window and noticed the Wind River Range and Grand Tetons of Wyoming, my home from 15 years prior. I have not yet returned. Eager for an aerial photo to show The Husband and kids, I asked permission from the older gentleman to extend my camera into his window space to snap a photo. He obliged and when I got the photo, I diverted my eyes back into my book to assure him I would not bother him anymore.
He then takes out his matching iPhone 4 - Do a lot of 80 year old's have iPhone 4s?
The nice man leans over and asks if I could show him how to take a photo with it.
Of course I help him and demonstrate how to take a photo of us both and show him how to text and email it to his children if he wanted.
He then proceeded to point out Gannett Peak, the highest point in Wyoming. I was skeptical that ANY peak in Wyoming was bigger than Grand Teton. I did live there, afterall. but I politely said something like "Wow, I had no idea." Then went back to my book. He then told me he and his wife climbed it....ALONG with all of the high points in each of the 50 states including Alaska and Hawaii. Including Kansas and Oklahoma...? Are you kidding that there is a high point in Florida?
"Tell me more." I eagerly inquired.
Apparently, there is this club called, The High Pointer's Club.
After hearing about this at length and sharing with him tales from my former pro downhill mountain bike days, he then confesses that he and his wife had cycled across the continent, from Seattle to Maine then Maine to Florida, then Florida to California. Not that long ago.
Crude math guesstimates using the revealed ages of his children and grandchildren gave me the notion this man was in his 80's.
Oh yeah, they cycled across Canada, too.
I inquired as to the whereabouts of his esteemed wife. She was indeed on the plane, but they take the liberty of Selecting their Own Seats very seriously and use the time apart. Apparently, they both like the window seat. So they both take one, in different parts of the plane.
As we conversed the entire flight, he revealed he was a Masters Alpine Ski racer in New Hampshire and had been skiing in Utah This struck me funny as I am a Masters Alpine ski coach in Vermont. We know a few of the same people.
A successful real estate developer, my new friend gave me life inspiration on topics ranging from calling my grandfather more often to selling my home and developing projects.
A few minutes after taking off in Utah, we sadly landed in Chicago. We must have been on the Concord that day. It was the shortest flight I've ever been on.
I made a friend. I took his email but did not give him my personal information. I left with a feeling of hope that we might keep in touch. I have not yet emailed him. It has been two months.
I did visit my grandfather.
The Husband and I are plotting to pick away at the high points in all 50 states.
I never did determine where that missionary was off to.
Ciao!
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