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from Seth Wickersham's NFL blog
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• On the flight home from Indy, I read in Fast Company magazine that it's only a matter of time before people are able to talk on their cell phones during flights. The technology is there; it's just a question of which airline bites first.
As a frequent business traveler, and someone who has to fly from New York to Anchorage to see my family, the specter of this terrifies me. Can you imagine That Guy on a flight for hours screaming, "She gave you the 'It's not you, it's me' line? Oh man, that blows. I'm sorry, bro. Wait, wait. I can't hear you. You're breaking up on me. What? Yeah, I'm in a reception hole. We must be over Iowa."
This reminded me of my most recent annoying flight neighbor. It was on the way to the Super Bowl, New York to Miami. I had a dreaded middle seat, and was hoping no one would claim the open window. The flight was getting full, and the announcer said we were ready to depart. I was about to exhale when around the corner roared That Guy: screaming into his cell, carrying two bags of food and two way-too-large carry-ons, sweating and panting and -­ how can I say this politely? ­- possessing an overflowing body that wasn't conducive to the restraints of an airplane seat with the armrests down.
Still, I thought I was in the clear when he blew right by, but he only did that because he was so enamored with his phone call that he missed his seat.
So he plopped next to me, talking on his phone literally until we took off, before diving into his McDonald's and subsequently passing out. He snored like no one I've ever heard, save my college buddy Daimon Eklund, who can rattle windows when he's sleeping.
But this guy … Wow. Other passengers were turning around in wonder at the producer of such noise. I could hear him through "Born in the USA" on my iPod.
Finally this guy woke up to use the restroom. He went, came back, sat down, and less than three minutes later asked to go again. While undoing my seatbelt and contemplating the hell traveling through his digestive system, I looked over and he was up in his seat, turned in a sprinterlike pose, with his feet on the armrests, ready to leap the entire row. My eyes bulged.
"Don't worry," he said. "I've done this before."
Before I could dissuade him, he was off. Only he caught his foot on my armrest and spilled onto our laps, sliding down and his nose hitting the foot of the woman across the aisle. I had never seen anything like it. I can only imagine how much worse it would have been had he been allowed to talk on his cell phone during the entire flight.
LINK
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• On the flight home from Indy, I read in Fast Company magazine that it's only a matter of time before people are able to talk on their cell phones during flights. The technology is there; it's just a question of which airline bites first.
As a frequent business traveler, and someone who has to fly from New York to Anchorage to see my family, the specter of this terrifies me. Can you imagine That Guy on a flight for hours screaming, "She gave you the 'It's not you, it's me' line? Oh man, that blows. I'm sorry, bro. Wait, wait. I can't hear you. You're breaking up on me. What? Yeah, I'm in a reception hole. We must be over Iowa."
This reminded me of my most recent annoying flight neighbor. It was on the way to the Super Bowl, New York to Miami. I had a dreaded middle seat, and was hoping no one would claim the open window. The flight was getting full, and the announcer said we were ready to depart. I was about to exhale when around the corner roared That Guy: screaming into his cell, carrying two bags of food and two way-too-large carry-ons, sweating and panting and -­ how can I say this politely? ­- possessing an overflowing body that wasn't conducive to the restraints of an airplane seat with the armrests down.
Still, I thought I was in the clear when he blew right by, but he only did that because he was so enamored with his phone call that he missed his seat.
So he plopped next to me, talking on his phone literally until we took off, before diving into his McDonald's and subsequently passing out. He snored like no one I've ever heard, save my college buddy Daimon Eklund, who can rattle windows when he's sleeping.
But this guy … Wow. Other passengers were turning around in wonder at the producer of such noise. I could hear him through "Born in the USA" on my iPod.
Finally this guy woke up to use the restroom. He went, came back, sat down, and less than three minutes later asked to go again. While undoing my seatbelt and contemplating the hell traveling through his digestive system, I looked over and he was up in his seat, turned in a sprinterlike pose, with his feet on the armrests, ready to leap the entire row. My eyes bulged.
"Don't worry," he said. "I've done this before."
Before I could dissuade him, he was off. Only he caught his foot on my armrest and spilled onto our laps, sliding down and his nose hitting the foot of the woman across the aisle. I had never seen anything like it. I can only imagine how much worse it would have been had he been allowed to talk on his cell phone during the entire flight.
LINK