Robert, that is. My seatmate from Miami to Key West. But he wasn't. Turns out Robert was practically my guardian angel.
I fly from Miami (or Tampa) to Key West every year. And every year I have my heart in my mouth because if there's anything I dread more than flying, it's flying in a tiny plane over shark-and-gator infested water. Yet there was Robert in the seat beside me, already drunk and assured of his charm, which he seemed insistent on sharing with me.
Oh, good.
Well, it turns out it was. For Robert is an air traffic controller here in Key West, returning home from Christmas with his family. He was able to explain what communications go on between pilot and tower, reassured me what different creaks and noises meant, and even predicted which runway we would use. I really appreciated his sharing his expertise with me.
Isn't it nice when a jerk turns out to be sweet and rather nice seatmate after all?