Air travel vignettes

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On a plane bound from San José to Seattle—a Disney-themed plane, with strains of "hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work we go" piping faintly through the speakers—a man and woman sit across the aisle in yellow medical masks. The masks look comfortable, as far as masks go, and are quite a bit more elaborate than the "cover if you're coughing" masks issued in every doctor's office. They pull travel-sized Purell bottles from their bags and then the man pulls out a road-weary package of Oreo cookies. From my vantage point, and without staring, I have trouble determining if the cookie pack is empty or just nearly so. They sit, masked, without eating. They keep their Purell close at hand, but never sanitize a thing.

Beside me, an outdoorsy young couple plays cribbage. The two women look to be about 20. They feed each other pretzel chips by hand, and wear what appear to be matching engagement rings. I have never before seen someone play cribbage, and have to ask what game it is. They are coming from a wedding.

The flight lasts three hours.

In Seattle, I enjoy a salad and juice during a two-hour layover.  I walk back to my gate on the heels of a certified genuine rodeo cowboy, complete with boots, hat, sponsor-embroidered shirt, and Canadian National Rodeo Champion jacket. In his hand he holds some tangled assortment of cotton and leather—hard to identify from my angle, but possibly a halter and leadrope. He clanks and clatters as he walks, and when he's passed I think to wonder if he got his spurs past security.

I am looking forward to getting home.