I don’t know what it is about being stuck on a plane, confined to that tight little world of a seat, but somehow a whole new set of ‘rules’ seems to suddenly consume the average joe and anything goes. After considerable deliberation and experience, I have decided that there are absolutely no guidelines for the etiquette of air travel!

Now, I’m no supermodel and seriously doubt that I am at my radiant best after several hours in the air, sooo…Not sure if it is the wine, the idea of being ‘out of touch’ with routine (no taking out the wheelie bin at 37 thousand feet!) or the thought that this person rubbing up against your shoulder could be…well, you get what I mean

Anyhoo, take JR who I bumped into returning to my seat on a recent flight. He wanted to know if I would be his second mistress!!! Say what??? Tinerate, Not his first (so he loses all sorts of points straight away ) but number two to my friend, BB. Okay, admittedly, I didn’t mind being ranked in -almost- the same category as BB who is not only stunning but also a very sophisticated Parisian. But puhleese!!!

And it doesn’t seem to matter where your seat is; even turned around and with a dividing screen…if someone wants to chat, they will…

Or if you are in the middle of dinner; white tablecloth, movie and all…

Anyhoo, I digress…

Then there was a quick flight I took to Melbourne and had the not so great pleasure of being seated next to SH. Turns out that SH had a thing for the movie ‘Up in the Air‘ and all he wanted to be was like the character George Clooney played. In an hour he had done his best to try and uptalk himself and win me over. All this in less than an 55 minutes! His pitch culminated in a dinner invitation and forcing his business card in to my hand. As I walked through the arrivals lounge I tossed it in the bin; I knew he was walking behind me. I know!!! A scene straight from TCM

Till next time,

Tipsy Pipsy xo

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