Fly much?

“Do our suitcases come on a different plane?”
This was the question the 23-year-old girl next to me on the flight from L.A. to Bentonville, Arkansas, asked me as we landed.
“Mmmm, nope. They’re on this plane,” I answered, trying to keep my eyebrows from going up.
Next question: “Do we have to go through customs?”
“Mmmm, nope. I mean Arkansas does feel like another country, but no.”
“Can they see us?”
"Who’s they?"
"Oh, the people picking us up."
"Can they see us right now?" (I don't understand.)
"No, I mean, when we’re getting off the plane can they see us?"
"No."
"Is it dark here right now? Should I wear my sunglasses?"

It was an interesting flight to be sure. The open, free-for-all seating Allegiant provides for the cheap-os who won’t pay for an assigned seat rendered me in the middle seat, aisle 40, between a 19-year-old girl who had never flown before and a 23-year-old girl who had flown before and still asked me if her suitcase was on a separate plane.

When I sat down the 19-year-old by the window was visibly anxious. She reeked of cigarette smoke. She had short, short cut-offs on and her mid-section showed below a short, short, loose-fitting tank top revealing her zebra-print bra. She asked me if I had flown before. I said yes and asked "you?" "Nope," she told me. She’d only driven between Los Angeles and Las Vegas. My first thought was…NIGHTMARE. L.A. and Vegas? Could it be any worse? And then my myriad, global travels began playing through my mind, and I couldn’t imagine having never been on a plane before. What would that feel like? I suddenly felt really lucky and caught myself taking for granted the opportunity to fly! On the aisle seat on the other side of me was a 23-year-old girl who resembled the deceased Amy Winehouse. She wore black, heeled boots that went above her knees to mid thigh (Julia-Roberts-pretty-woman style!) and she kept her cell phone between her boot and thigh. Her eyelids were rainbows…five perfectly drawn stripes of different-colored eye shadows. Her carry-on? One large Louis Vuitton bag containing all makeup. In fact, there was even a separate trifold wallet of sorts containing just makeup brushes!

Upon reaching the desired altitude and making sure the virgin flier next to me was OK, I put my iPod on and began to doze, until the girls struck up a conversation with me in the middle. Come to find out…the 19-year-old virgin flier was heading to Oklahoma to visit her friend indefinitely. She had bought a one-way ticket and only knew she was going to get drunk the second she got off the plane. Her mom is in prison. She doesn’t know where her dad is. She’s been on her own since she was 13. She goes to raves all the time and does hair for money. The 23-year-old is Mexican, going to school to become a nurse and told her parents she was going to a nursing conference (in Arkansas?) when in reality she was going to visit a guy she recently started dating from a distance. It was the guy who she was concerned may see her as she was getting off the plane.

They turned to me and asked me what I was doing—me in my comfy travel outfit of leggings and flip flops (all body parts covered), my iPod in a little ankle sock because I’m too cheap to buy a fancy case for it, and chapstick and a little mascara for makeup (the eye shadow I do have comes in one small case and has two options, beige and a darker beige). "I’m visiting my grandparents," I say. "And no, no. I've never really frequented the L.A. rave scene, nor the reggae bars in Hollywood, but thanks for the heads up on the big rave taking place on New Year’s behind the coliseum."

The contrasts of our lives seemed to create expansive divides between the seats of aisle 40. But apparently I was still cool—cool-ass to be more precise. Upon landing, the 19-year-old called her boyfriend to tell him she had survived her first flight. That she was nervous but thankfully she had some pretty cool-ass people sitting next to her.

I got off the plane, walked to baggage claim, and began descending the escalator and there…standing at the bottom, both arms outstretched and waving was my grandpa, beaming.

I turned and waved goodbye to my cool-ass flight buddies and went to hug grandpa. He asked how the plane ride was; I just answered "fine."