Ties that bind.

There are two types of people:  plane-talkers and plane-sleepers.  I assess  my seat mate before I say a word. If there’s no eye contact, I follow suit. (I’m shy so I don’t like being rejected).  I boarded a Virgin flight from Boston expecting to sleep, but the well-dressed man next to me seemed smart, and after a hospitable opening salvo, our repartee took off faster than the plane did.  We talked about books he’d written, my attempt at one, and the importance of thank you notes.  When  Franklin explained,  a few hours in, “My friends call me Biff”, I knew I wanted to be a friend.   When he disembarked, he somehow forgot “a personal belonging”.  An alert stewardess chased me down the gangplank, his red striped Brioni tie held aloft.  “Your husband left this behind,” she announced.  I set her straight and mailed it to him.