Breaking The Rules

Just like there are Little Vixen Rules, there are rules of traveling. A big one for me is as soon as I step on the plane,click the seat belt shut and ,make sure my tray table is in the upright and locked position, I should go to sleep. I usually do this quite successfully and then wake-up on landing. I cll this my "tarmac to tarmac" nap. The T to T nap serves a multitude of purposes. First, I get to catch up on the sleep I didn't get because I was up packing, and I am almost always up packing. I pack mentally first, then leave the real packing to the last minute. Soemtimes, until one hour before I should be showering to go on my trip. Sounds crazy, but its a system.
Somewhere in the back of my head is the thought that if the plane goes down, I might miss it because I am alseep. And lastly, the big one. I sleep because if a talker sits in the middle seat, they will hopefully leave me alone if my head is cocked to the side and my mouth slightly open. I would say "and if I am snoring", but I don't do that, but you get the picture. I have, on occassion, feigned sleep even if I wasn't to thwart a possible unwanted airplane conversation. I will even admit that if it looked really bad, I added the drool at the mouth to make a conversation look even more unappealing.
Well, I went to Ft Bragg last weekend. I flew Delta (An experience. Tarmac to Tarmac was FOR REAL since the planes they flew were regional jets. You know, there is somethign just wrong when the only way to get to your plane from the terminal is through an emergency exit).
I always ask for the window seat. Not that I want to look out of the window, I just like having control of the window shade. I clicked my seat belt shut, wrapped up in my shawl and prepared to slumber. Well, next thing I know, in comes this BIG guy. Huge. Football player huge. In a good way, in shapish. I peeped out of one eye, then closed them tighter. He was going to sit next to me. Small plane. Big guy. It could have been bad.
I must have looked annoyed because he offered to move. I guess I was kind of transparent. Of course I said, "No, you don't have to do that." You see, I still planned to sleep. He didn't smell bad and If I was jammed against the airplane wall by his huge body, it would be all good. The tightness of the space would keep me from nodding or falling over and bumping my forehead on the tray table.
Unfortunately, the flight was delayed a bit because of mechanical issues. Of course this sparked a conversation. And thankfully, my PMS was over because I decided to be nice and talk back to the man. I mean, I AM a writer, and I've learned that if I'd thought he was really strange, I could have told him my name was Shaniqua Jamison or something like that.
But he wasn't strange. And it turned out that being cordial had its benefits. This huge, goliath of a man was a professional sound engineer.
We exchanged pleasantries and the next thing I knew, there were tickets left at will call.
My sedan picked my up from my hotel and took me to the amphitheater. Good thing I had amphitheater shoes, I mean, one does not want to tip around in grass in the outdoors if not properly shod.
I waited for the driver to open my door (I was told that looks better than doing it yourself), I walked up to the Will Call window and I just let them know.
"I am a guest of Kem."
They took my ID, passed me my tickets and I sauntered my Texas saunter in my amphitheater shoes into The Carolina Music Festival.
I didn't even have to sit on the grass. There was a chair waiting for me.
No rain, or wind or water. I knew then that me and natuire, we were finally all right.
And Dammit, Kem was good.
After the show, I went backstage and I got to meet him.
And Dammit, Kem was nice.
I thanked my host, located my driver and made my way back to my hotel. (But not before I tried to fix up Airplane man with my sister).
Yes, cordial was a good thing. I guess some rules are made to be broken.
I may even talk to someone else on the plane.
Or maybe not.