All I wanted to do was to fall asleep in my tiny seat on the last leg of a grueling day of air travel, when I was cornered by the Talkative Airplane Seatmate — a species oblivious to yawns and one-word answers.
My chatty neighbor was a forklift accident expert — a job he described in great detail as my eyelids grew heavier and heavier.
I mentioned that I was barely functioning after an 11-hour flight from China to California, followed by a six-hour layover at San Francisco International Airport.
There are no comments.