Strange Seat Mates

On the plane from Portland to Atlanta I sat between a young man who fell asleep as soon as he sat down and a woman in her early sixties whose dyed orange hair, heavy makeup including eyeliner, rhinestone jewelry, fake fingernails and shiny black purse with heavy gold handles could not have been more different than my own attire. She immediately took out a Danielle Steele novel and began reading.

Shortly after takeoff, though, she closed her book and started a conversation with me by asking whether Atlanta were my home. Our conversation went from her former career as a TWA hostess in the days of “china, crystal and champagne” to her recommending that I see a movie about “a bomber.” I’m hard of hearing and in spite of wearing hearing aids, I sometimes misunderstand. Actually, it turned out the movie was about Obama. “It is a documentary,” she said, and proceeded to tell me that he has “sealed all his records,” and won’t release them. Not his education records, nor even his birth certificate.

Uh-oh, I thought, this woman is a Birther! “I’m a Democrat,” I announced.

Then she asked me if Hillary Clinton was going to resign soon. Yes, I answered, I understand she will be preparing to run for the presidency in 2016.

“I would support her,” my seat mate exclaimed. “It’s time for a woman to take charge.”

At this point I was baffled.

The cabin stewards served drinks and packages of peanuts. I struggled to open the peanut packages. She opened them for me.

We read our books for a while. Then I asked her to clarify the message of the “documentary” she had recommended. She informed me that Obama has a Muslim brother “in some country,” and that his mother married men from strange countries. Moreover, “he never talks about religion.” Suspicious, indeed. I said I didn’t want the president to talk about religion and that if I wanted to hear about religion I would go to church. I said, too, that the courthouse in Hawaii keeps busy mailing out copies of the president’s birth certificate.

When the pilot announced imminent landing, we looked at our itineraries and talked about how much time we would have to make our connecting flights.

After deboarding, my seat mate quickly observed the gate I needed to get to for my connecting flight. Then she hailed down one of those golf carts that cruise the concourses, providing rides for those who need them She directed the driver to get me to my gate and said, “My gate is close to yours. I’ll see you there.”

After a visit to the rest room I proceeded toward my gate. Suddenly my seat mate was in front of me, saying “I’ve been watching for you.” She gave me a hug and wished me a safe journey home.

The significance of this encounter, to me, is that although we see things very differently, she is not an enemy. She was kind and thoughtful. Maybe she thought that was the avenue to changing my vote, but I believe she is just a good person who doesn’t know how to check facts.

In some ways it’s good to be out and about.

Copyright 2012 by Shirley Domer