The flight was delayed twenty minutes, so I made it without even having to convince an airport attendent of my need to get back to Denver to catch a bus so I could attend work on time Monday morning. While waiting last in line for Southwest Airlines, a young man, about the age of thirteen, was saying goodbye to his pregnant aunt. They had thought the line was moving and exchanged sentiments. The line didn't budge after a few steps and the two were left in an awkward silence. They had already placed a period on their sentence; the denouement had occurred - what now? The silent panic caused an internal giggle in me. Embarassment and awkwardness are two things that will always amuse me to no end.
Southwest Airlines doesn't assign seats - you are placed in a herd (either A, B or C) and it's a free-for-all after the gate double doors. I was last in line C, but the flight wasn't full, so I would have some choice. I was excited to see the plane scattered with open middle seats. How would I choose my seat partners? Were people offended or relieved by each passenger that passed them up? Does the last person on a full flight get stuck next to the screaming baby smelly fat guy that coughs, sneezes and incessently asks about your entire life for the duration of the flight? This musical chaircraft seating was a foreign experience for me. Travelers often feel foreign to me anyway, because many people become very quirky and unpredictable during travel. Alien creatures.
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