Dear Mr. Fabulous,

All I wanted to do on Friday night was read my Marie Claire magazine. Maybe, if I was feeling really wild, I planned to bust out my new book called “Twitter Power.”  You see, even though I’m not a powerful lawyer like you, I don’t have as much free time as I’d like. A 1 hour and 10 minute flight seemed like a wonderful way to relax and enjoy a free, ice cold Coca Cola and a bag of delicious pretzels.

And then you slipped on the airplane just as the doors were about to be sealed. You huffed and puffed, clearly begging for me to ask if everything was okay. You took the precious middle seat. And then, if I wasn’t already worried that you’d be a terrible seat mate, you stole my arm rest and muttered that you needed it more than I did.

Your expensive suit did not impress me. I’m married to an (almost) lawyer and he’s way better looking than you, and he talks a lot less, which was really what bothered me most: You didn’t stop talking about yourself for 75 minutes straight. Really, I would have maybe been okay with all the chitter chatter if you were somewhat interesting. But, you weren’t.

There was one point in the flight when you really gave me hope that you’d actually move seats. Remember that? You saw a few good looking girls in the back of the plane and thought they might be better seat mates? I’m here to tell you: THEY WOULD HAVE BEEN! I’m sure had you told them about your beach front property and expensive sports car, they would have been sitting on your lap by the end of the flight. And, even if they hadn’t, at least you wouldn’t have been practically sitting on mine. 

We never exchanged names, Mr. Fabulous, which is really a shame because I’ll never get to thank you for making fun of me for staying with my parents this weekend, or being from Irvine, or never having been to Javier’s, “only the best Mexican in all of Orange County.”

Consider this my thank you for our great conversation. Or should I say, your great conversation. Afterall, I just listened.

Sincerely,

The girl in seat 1A

(photo credit: Digital Vision/Getty Images)

Author’s note: Letter to a Stranger is a little exercise I like to do every so often. Most people think I’m really, really nice. Usually I am. But sometimes, I just have to get something off my chest. Letter to a Stranger is my way of doing so.

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