As if travelling in a sardine can wasn’t bad enough, I’ve begun to feel like a Venus flytrap – susceptible to every germ and microorganism able to survive at 30,000 feet of compressed cabin air.
I’m no germaphobe, but on my last airplane ride I couldn’t help but feel bad for the passenger in the next aisle because he seemed in grave danger of becoming infected with something worse than cooties.
For two hours I could hear the passenger next to him as he coughed, wheezed and snorted his way through the flight. Although they were separated by one seat, I could tell that he wished that he was somewhere else because he only used half of his seat the whole time. He was leaning so far over he was practically in the aisle.
Near the end of the flight, he dispensed with any pretense and was using his paper napkin to cover his mouth – the best defense he had against the onslaught of flying phlegm. But the embattled passenger was way too busy emptying his sinuses to be offended.
I could see him glancing my way (hoping for sympathy, maybe?), because I knew he wasn’t asking to switch seats – but I avoided his gaze even though I did feel his pain.
Actually, there were several similarly affected passengers on the flight because there was a cacophony of flu related noises all over the cabin.
I’m aware that you can book extra room on certain flights these days. But I don’t really need all that. I don’t care about business class or first class for that matter. I don’t care if they’re serving food or just drinks. I don’t care whether there’s an in-flight movie or not.
I just need me a flu free flight.