So in our travels from Houston to Charlotte this week, our flight was delayed about an hour because of weather in North Carolina. Beryl came through, if you remember. Which scares the shit out of me. We've had several named storms already and it hasn't even been the "season" yet. I shudder to think of how vicious the remainder of the year will be. At least we don't live on the coast.
Anyhoodle, most people on our flight understood the situation. The weather was so bad they suspended inbound flights into Charlotte. Even before I was the wife of a pilot, I understood that things like this were for our own safety. Most people with common sense would. I appreciated the fact that we didn't have to fly through weather like that. Other people did too.
However, there were two people that did not understand this. They spoke English, although not very clearly. They understood English enough to groan when the gate agent made announcements concerning the further delay of the flight. But they showed their asses to the gate agents. Proclaimed they needed a translator and a refund. Yeah. It was fun to watch.
So guess who got to sit next to the woman on the flight? Yep. This girl. So thrilled. About 5 minutes into the flight, I realized she was talking. I was slipping in and out of a dramamine coma and wasn't super aware of what was going on. About 45 minutes later, she was still talking and I was sober enough to know it. She wasn't talking to her son in the row in front of us. She wasn't talking into a voice recorder. Thank gawd she wasn't talking on her phone. So what was she doing?
She was praying. Out loud. On a plane. For over an hour. Now I'm all for prayers on airplanes. Got it. I say one myself. SILENTLY. But for over an hour OUT LOUD? Really? And in Spanish no less. Save that rosary for another place please.
I realized then. On planes, I like other people's prayers the same way I like their children. Silent.
