I immediately take out something to read as soon as I’m in my seat on an airplane. Knowing I have a few hours of quiet reading time makes me very happy, and because of this, I rarely talk to the people sitting next to me. For the most part, when they see me pull out a book, they don’t bother chit-chatting with me.

Today, though, on a flight to Las Vegas, a gentleman started to talk to me as I was reading. He was pleasant, and asked an easy intro question: business or pleasure? If you’re going to Vegas, that’s a reasonable question. I told him business, he followed up with other questions about what kind of business I was in, where I was staying, etc. I didn’t want to be rude, so I asked him the same type of questions. The conversation came to its natural conclusion, and I went back to reading.

During the entire trip, however, I could see him out of the corner of my eye acting very antsy, looking around the airplane’s cabin, trying to catch anyone’s eye that would talk with him. I felt bad that I wanted to read instead of conversing with this man. Then I began to wonder why I don’t like to chit-chat like that. Why do I become shy or hesitant to meet new people? Or was it the situation? Would I had been more apt to speak at length with him if we were at a party? Probably so. I think it was the location.

Getting on a plane for a trip to me is like those times when you have the toilet to yourself. It’s your alone time. You have your assigned seat with your assigned overhead light and air nozzle. Sometimes you even get your own window. I know you’re not really alone and that there will be times you have to (or want to) talk to the other passengers. But for me, it’s a time to create an imaginary bubble where I’m all alone, enjoying a good book, and the lull of an engine roaring across the sky.

(Image via Flickr: Phillip Kalantzis-Cope / Creative Commons)