Mile High... Making Out

“Flights aren’t as fun as they used to be,” my friend told me, as I prepared for a trip. “You used to make out with the person sitting next to you.”

“Is that right?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “But people used to drink a lot more on flights.”

Interesting.

I’m making a little trip back east to visit some friends, and while thinking about all the other things, people to visit with, who I might reconnect with, I never even thought about getting sloshed and making out with someone on the plane!

Now there’s something to look forward to.

While I used to worry about whether I’d fall asleep and drool on the person next to me…now I should instead perhaps think of better uses for my spit. The thing is, I never get placed next to anyone make-out-able. I always get the dreaded Chatty-Kathys.

I think that I must be registered somewhere in the airline directory, so that when I purchase my ticket, it automatically places me next to a talker. And not just any talker, the most lame talker.

There was the girl who was going home for the holidays, after her first semester at college, who had to tell me all about the awesome parties they had in their dorm. Awesome. And of course her classes, and how they’re actually not much harder than high school, but she skips sometimes, especially if she goes out the night before. Because they party so hard. Beer is great.

Then there was there was this Dad, who was nice of course, but for some reason decided to confide in me all about his children, what each one does, how one of the boys is kind of slacking off, doesn’t have much direction, but he was just glad that he graduated college.

I wouldn’t make out with either of them.

Why is it that I attract the talkers? My friend said just don’t make eye contact. I guess, unless you want to have a steamy smooch session. Or maybe I should just turn into a booze bag.

So how is it that there used to be such a high make-out rate on flights, and where do I sign up? Or do I want to sign up?

There’s the thing of comfort. It’s a long flight. I’ve already decided on my comfy pants. Screw jeans. And yes, I will be unwrapping that crunchy, scratchy pillow and curling up with that nappy blanket. Now who will be cuddling with me?

The thing is, it seems like so much effort. Especially on a long flight. Because if you do it, it’s done, maybe it wasn’t so hot…then you’re stuck next to this person for the remainder of the flight. Hmm…awkward. I don’t think I have the energy for that. And chances are, the movie sucks. If you have a window seat, you can stare out the window. Otherwise, you just look stupid staring at the seat in front of you.

I should really be packing right now, by the way.

But random make-out sessions…are they a thing of the past? People go at it in bars, sure. There’s the drunken factor. But on planes? I guess, if like my friend said, people drank more, it is a possibility. I just haven’t seen it. Maybe I’ll announce it on my flight: “Open make-out sessions! Just go at it, folks!” It could be entertaining at least…or gross.

But a plane is a pretty public, and confined, area. If people are all about the PDA, and with a stranger, there, then there must be no limitations. What’s next? The grocery store?

“Is this cantaloupe ripe?” I ask.

“Let me feel,” he says, and pretty soon, we’re propped up on a pile of bananas. Magic.

Long-line situations would be beneficial as well. The Bank. Post Office. Even Starbucks. It would definitely give you something to do to pass the time while waiting in those torturous lines. I mean, honestly, you can only stare at the new stamp collections, or memorize your Tall Non-Fat Pumpkin Spice Latte order so many times. When you’re really bored, just grab the dude behind you, and lay one on him.

So, maybe Chatty Kathy doesn’t like the fall foliage, and I’ll get next to Studly Sam instead. And maybe…I should leave the comfy pants in the suitcase. Jeans, and a little lip gloss, might go a long way. I’ll let you know next week.

Dating Triumphs and Tragedies is published every Sunday by Online Dating Magazine columnist Nicole Roberge. She can be reached at [email protected].

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