This blog entry is about 6 weeks late but as the old saying goes, late ain’t always so bad. (I’m not so good with old sayings.)
I climbed onto the Calgary-bound Westjet aircraft at 6:30am on a Sunday. No one should be vertical, much less an hour away from their home that early on a Sunday. But an early–yet direct–flight still beats out a day of flight changes and layovers. I quickly found my seat and crawled in between two gentlemen who were happily chatting before I came along and burst their Yay!-No-one-is-sitting-between-us bubble.
Fortunately, they were welcoming and charming. One was a retired gentleman from Alberta who had been in Kingston to cheer on his daughter and granddaughter playing in a curling championship. The other was an economist traveling out west for a series of meetings. Sound less than interesting? Well, both of these guys were real hoots! The three of us yacked like 3 giggly teenaged girls.
At one point, we were interrupted by Lisa, our flight attendant, announcing that our flight would be delayed due to an ill flight attendant so they had to call someone else in. So “Marjorie” was on her way but as she had only been called at 6:00 on her day off for a 6:45 flight so we had to wait until she arrived. Maybe it was just me, but I got the feeling no one minded. The other option was for our flight to be canceled so we were happy to wait a bit longer.
My plane neighbours and I continued to talk and share and laugh and somewhat annoy the others around us. And when Marjorie arrived, a wave of applause and whistles greeted her and made her blush like a raspberry. It really didn’t feel anything like a sleepy Sunday morning on that flight.
Shorty thereafter, our plane took off and the three of us eventually settled into some quiet time with our own personal TVs. I watched repeat episodes of Will & Grace sandwiched between two curling fans watching their favourite sport on TV. I’d never met so many curling fans in one place.
An hour or so before landing, Economist dude and I picked up the conversation again. That 5-hour flight (plus one hour on the tarmac) really flew by (that pun was special, just for you).
As the airplane landed, I finally thought to ask what these guys’ names were and to introduce myself. They told me their names but I don’t remember them. What I remember is a fun, easy-going flight with awesome people who were complete strangers for only moments and then nameless friends for a few hours. It really was the best flight ever.