Time On a Plane

The woman next to me on the plane (well, not next to me, she’s in the aisle seat and I’m the window seat and there’s an empty seat (thank god) between us) doesn’t have anything to do. Her eyes were closed when we took off, but for most of the two hours since she’s just been staring ahead. The flight attendants did pass out packaged snacks (what I don’t know, I didn’t take one) and she did take one and a glass of water or soda. That captured her attention for a few minutes. Of a four-hour flight. But otherwise she just stares into the back of the headrest of the seat in front of her. She doesn’t have a book or magazine or iPad or laptop or anything that might occupy her. She has a large colorful bag with a lot of what I don’t know stuffed under the seat in front of her. Evidently there’s nothing to read or watch or work with her hands (knitting (as my is doing), woodworking, model cars, macramé ). At one point she digs out a water bottle and takes a drink. She has the light over her seat on, but no reason for using it. I don’t want to be judgmental (well, maybe just a little, though not specifically of this poor woman) but I can’t understand taking a four-hour flight and not having brought anything along to bide the time. Oh, but now she has taken off her shoes, put on some wool socks, covered herself with a jacket (it is cool in here at 35,000 feet), dug out one of those sleeping mask things from her bag, and is now apparently taking a nap. I underestimate the woman. Unconsciousness has its rewards.