Window Seat

So I am flying from Reno to Minneapolis, in the window seat.

On my left the man in the middle speaks to the woman knitting In the aisle seat, her nimble fingers move almost as fast as he spins his yarns. Not with his mouth or even hands but with arms and elbows he conducts an orchestra in a symphony of small talk, one note at a time. Should I speak out, say, “Please sit still; let me fly in peace.” Should I suggest he sit on his hands, which would be telling him to "shut up?" I deserve extra miles for sitting next to this man whose hands are connected to his tongue by a rubber band. When he speaks, his arms go up and down with each word. He must be growing tired. It's an aerobics class. He talks and talks and waves his hand. He must soon run out of gas. Oh please kind sir, stop pounding my arm. We have hours to fly; you're doing me harm. Speak if you must, your words I can take—but physical abuse I won't tolerate.

I don't say anything, though. Instead I turn it into a YouTube video, which you can watch here.


Jim Gustafson is a retired radio station general manager, former pastor, counselor, courier, and domestic dishwasher. He lives in Fort Myers, Florida where he is a proud member of Costco, reads, writes and pulls weeds.  His book, Take Fun Seriously, is available online at




Category: Airplanes

Latest Stories
Checking In/Checking Out

Filter by Category

Everyone has a story to tell...

Submit Yours Here

Points of Departure: