I travel for work. About once a month I'm on the road and most of my flights are pretty uneventful. But on my lst flight, I learned the meaning of Lucky #13.
I'm in Houston all week for work. On the flight out Row 13 was the
lucky number. There were two beautiful beautiful, friendly, chatty, single women.
I helped the Latina, slim with long black hair, an easy laugh, and bright eyes put her luggage in the overhead rack as we chatted. She was West Coast based but flying to Houston for a friend's wedding. We got her settled and continued to chat.
Next arrived an Asian woman. At least in her early 20's she was clad in only black tights, and a long, gray loooow cut t-shirt holding a little stuffed monster plush toy for comfort.
Yes! Row 13 was the place to be.
Unfortunately I was on row 12 with a guy who threw-up the whole trip. After the 4th trip to the bathroom and several trial runs into "the bag in the seat pocket in front of you" we moved him to the isle seat. He said it was some bad food, I thought I smelled hang-over. All I know is that I really wish I had lucky #13.
Ah, the joys of travel.