25 F and D
I flew standby to Cincinatti and got a window seat--but it was the last row of the plane. The row of three seats was empty when I arrived. Then this guy came. I thought I had seen him at the gate with a girl. But he was by himself.
Sleep was on my mind. I drifted off, into several airplane naps. This is just an hour flight. I woke up once and needed the restroom. The guy adjusted his baseball cap over his face. I said, "Excuse me." He closed his eyes. I hesitantly tapped him on the leg. He stood up and let me out. The beauty of this is that when I returned, he was still standing. In that moment I knew he was not from Chicago. He offered his newspaper, The Wall Street Journal, which sat on the middle seat, to me. He said it was boring, but maybe I'd find something.
I took the front page and while reading that, he pointed at a section I might find more interesting. I read about some kids in Belgium who got sick from drinking Coke. While I read about George W. Bush and his political career, the guy asked if I found anything of interest. I told him about the kids and Coke. He said there was another one further in the paper. I never figured out exactly what he meant. By the time I finished that story about Bush, we were descending.