lufthansa tangling.

lufthansa tangling.

Originally posted on September 13, 2011 by JaEDV

It’s 2:30 am on my third day here. Darn jet lag. It’s AMAZING to be back in a place that I already know and already love! My team arrived yesterday, and we spent evening playing Ticket to Ride and Pandemic! with our national friends R and Z. Anyway, nothing of note has happened so far, but I wanted to share a quick story from my flight over. If nothing else, it’s good for a few laughs

My flight over the ocean was the only full flight of the three I took. While I was waiting in line to board, I noticed this young German couple kissing and touching and giggling and feeding each other a very melty caramel sundae from McDonalds. And it’s not like they were standing away privately in some dark airport corner. Quite the opposite actually—they were RIGHT in the middle of the crowd waiting to board.

I, I like every passenger waiting around me, could neither stop myself from blushing nor take my eyes off the uncomfortable and zealous and outlandishly public displays of affection coming from these people. And I, like every other passenger waiting around me, sent up a silent plea to not be seated in even remote proximity these conjoined lovers. I felt some assurance in looking at my ticket—28B…either an aisle or between two people. Perfect.

They boarded (still attached at more than one body part) in boarding group B while I exchanged that-was-awkward, I-understand-why-you’re-blushing, glad-they’re-finally-out-of-my-sight looks with the other waiting Lufthansa gawkers.

Finally, boarding group D was announced and gate C18 emptied, single-file, onto the waiting jet.

I made my way to my seat.

And guess what, folks. (Surprise!) I had unknowingly drawn the grossly uncoveted seating short stick.

The German couple was in my ROW. And no, that’s not the worst of it. Not only were they in my ROW, but buckled into 28A was the young German man, and buckled into 28C, the young German woman. And stretching across 28B was two knotted legs (one from the A occupant and the other from C—how they managed such corporeal tangles I’ll never know) and one arm (belonging to 28A, sensually caressing the face of occupant 28C). My seat was buried beneath pure, unbridled desire.

My eyes darted frantically around the economy cabin, searching for another open seat—ANY other open seat. I realized I was the envy of not a single person on that packed jet, save perhaps the man three rows back, in seat 3 of a five-wide row, who had directly behind him a 4-year-old whose leg control was non-existent and whose mother was sound asleep with earplugs and an eye mask. But even his eyes looked at me apologetically.

I leaned down and said ‘excuse me’, first in English, then in Russian, then with my index finger on C’s shoulder. ‘Hi… I’m in 28B,’ I said, trying desperately to hide the pink in my cheeks from the awkwardness of my interrupting their intertwining limb loving. 28A removed his caressing hand and looked up at me—‘would you mind taking the aisle? We’re together.’

Umm, really? I would have never guessed.

Of course, I agreed, my heart dancing with elation.

So, German girl unbuckled and scooched over to 28B and swung both of her legs up onto German boy’s lap. And they stayed like that, still tangling and caressing and who even knows what else, until:

‘Excuse me, Ma’am. Personal belongings on the floor and under the seat in front of you. This includes your feet.’

Bless you, flight attendant. Hero. Love inhibitor.

Hallelujahs sent up from MeIn28C for the halfhearted detangling finally happening beside me. Instantly, the temperature in my row dropped like 74 degrees.

And off we went to the ends of the earth.