Meatballs.

I’m not a plane chatter. I consider those people that like to small talk with strangers during their flight, travel amateurs. I bring lots of stuff to make it look like I am mute and disinterested: literary magazines, ipod, cats cradle, really whatever it takes to not have to hear about someone’s business. Sure some people are interesting but many are not. When I was younger, before I knew any better, I got caught in a one-sided conversation with an aspiring motivational speaker and I’ve been trying to avoid people ever since. Plus, the things that people read depress me. Oh I would have to add that I find those people that get on planes without any reading material or sleeping pills really, really depressing. I’ll take a screaming baby any day over some guy face-forward with his hands on his thighs staring at the cover of the Skymall catalog for five hours. I shiver just thinking about it.

However, on my flight home the other day I was in a section amongst several young guys shipping (flying) off to Air Force basic training and the kid next to me was so young and earnest I had to oblige in a little small talk.  He probably regretted it because he told me he was going into the Air Force to be a Fire Fighter, and my dramatic interpretation of that was that he said Fighter Pilot, so when the flight attendant came to ask us if we were willing to perform the duties of being in an exit row I said, “Are you kidding? This guy is about to be a fighter pilot and save the assess of the whole United States of America. I think he will be able to open that door should we decided to have an emergency landing near Lake Erie.” (the last part might have been exaggerated for this blog)

He was polite enough to later correct me by casually mentioning FIRE FIGHTER in his conversation. I learned he was super good at identifying planes (thanks to a long wait on the runway) and was from a small Michigan town called Dundee and I resisted saying “Oh yeah, Michigan Militia!”

There were two other dudes nearby that were also on their way to basic and I couldn’t help eavesdropping. The conversations were so typical of nervous 18-year-olds that just met each other: what do you like to eat, specifically what do you get on your sandwichs from Subway. Jalapenos, I like those man, I get the footlong and it’s only five bucks. American cheese. Do you like american cheese? One of the guys was talking at auctioner speed, shaking his legs, and looking up and down and at the rows behind hind him. The guy next to him was cool as an Alaskan morning, just interjecting with a I like ham and a mustard is good comment here and there.

After exhausting the subway menu, the conversation switched to spaghetti. The chill guy said he liked meatballs and the nervous guy was like Ha! That sounds kinda gay. You like meatballs. The chill guy was like Yeah they are delicious. Meatballs and spaghetti. The nervous guy leans over and calls out the Dundee kids name and says “Hey soandso, chillguy says he likes meatballs – isn’t that GAY?” Dundee gave him a charity laugh and a small shrug then left them to their conversation.

It went on for a few more sentences before chill guy said, “Hey, you are talking a lot.”  And then silence.

I becha HE is one of America’s future fighter pilots. Less talk. More meatballs.