Departure Date: October 2008

Route: LAX to MIA

Flight Duration: 5 hours and 10 minutes

Following a very grueling three-day shoot and a late night wrap party celebrating its end, I departed the Viceroy in Santa Monica, Calif., for the airport at 7 a.m. PDT for my 10:30 a.m. flight. Surprisingly, the Los Angeles traffic gods were with me that day, getting me to the airport in what is still record time. The odds stayed in my favor as I zipped through security, my Priority Access serving me well. I made my way through the terminal with time to spare before my 9 a.m. conference call. Today, I thought to myself as I sipped a freshly shaken Starbucks Iced Tea, is going to be a good travel day.

Settling into an empty row of terminal seating, I dialed into the conference line, my Blackberry (2008’s smart phone du jour) and Jawbone Bluetooth device fully charged, my folders out and organized, my MacBook plugged into the holy grail of any airport terminal … an available power outlet. Just as I hit the # symbol to initiate my call, a couple made their way toward me. Choosing to pass up row upon row of empty seats, seats close to any of the gates, they sat directly across from me. 

Wearing matching track suits and looks of annoyance, they proceeded to speak loudly to one another while I tried to concentrate on my conference, walking through the plans for post production, approvals, tagging and trafficking with the rest of the team. I was, unfortunately, picking up on parts of their conversation. Distracted with their increasing volume, I gave up my coveted outlet, grabbed my things and moved as far away from them and their visually offensive wardrobe as I could to continue my phone call.

As the call ended, I made my way to my gate, where they were just starting the boarding process. Turning in my pass, I was one of the first on the plane. Efficiently lifting my roll aboard into the bins, sliding my work bag beneath the seat, wiping down my immediate area with an antibacterial wipe (don’t judge) and finally making myself comfortable in my seat, I closed my eyes and hoped the long flight would go by quickly.

“Well, look who we have here … it’s Little Miss Phone,” I heard a grating voice announce. Opening my eyes, I saw the seatmates from hell … complete with matching track suits. “Excuse us please,” the “gentleman” of the pair announced again. I shifted closer to the window in my seat, practically pressing myself against the side of the plane.

Closing my eyes again and putting my earbuds in (even though I had forgotten my iPod), I tried to again close my eyes.

The day that started out as travel utopia quickly started to go downhill, as my unanticipated travel companions pushed common sense aside and broke several basic travel tenets over the course of the next 5 hours:

Never Wake Your Sleeping Seatmate. Ever.

When someone is asleep on the plane, you let him or her sleep. Drink cart coming? I didn’t want a ginger ale, but thanks for waking me for one. Flying over the Grand Canyon? I was seeing sleepy time clouds, but now I can see a giant crater from 40,000 feet. A word to the wise: unless your seatmate is in the way when you need to get up or there is an emergent situation, please let them rest.

An airplane is not a gym.

I totally understand that it’s important to keep the circulation flowing on a long flight. However, there is no room to do movements such as squats or leg lifts. My seatmates were ambitious though – simply stretching their legs was not good enough – a full aerobic routine was necessary, followed by …

Do not apply odorous ointments in an enclosed space with recycled air.

Apparently the work out had my seatmates in a bit of pain … the kind only Bengay, with its muscle penetrating, sinus clearing healing power, could cure. They proceeded to slather it liberally on each other, causing the eyes of everyone around them to water with intensity.  But there are things that smell worse than Bengay …

Do not bring snacks that accost the senses of everyone within 20 rows.

My seatmates, for my lucky travel day … they brought with them a “treat” I’ve never seen before or since. A bag of one dozen hard-boiled eggs, and a baggie containing a salt and pepper mixture. They spent most of the flight cracking them open on their tray tables (ones that had not been wiped clean with antibacterial wipes) and then shook them vigorously in the baggie until they were covered with salt and pepper, before eating them. More than five hours with unrefrigerated hard-boiled eggs creates a certain … aroma throughout a small space with recycled air. So for the record – hard-boiled eggs are not an appropriate plane snack.

When we finally landed in Miami, it felt as if 15 hours had gone by. My fellow passengers and I smelled like some weird mixture of eucalyptus and egg salad. I had neither slept nor gotten any work done. But, I had learned an important lesson: hard-boiled eggs should really be refrigerated. Seriously … for everyone’s sake.   

To hear more of Nicole’s business travel insights, please contact Nicole at NicoleP@theswitch.us.