The NYC flight, an icy passenger and an amazing travel tale

As he took his seat on the plane, the woman bristled and stared out the window. But four hours later something stunning happened.

The flight to NYC I never expected.

Sometimes, the person next to you on a flight is up for a chat and, as you’re sharing a matter of millimetres of space, it seems the civil thing to do.

Then there are other times when your seat neighbour does not want to talk, and it seems they wish you were not even there. This trip from Los Angeles to New York was definitely one of those times.

Stepping on the plane, there was a definite chill in the air — and it had nothing to do with the airconditioning. The woman a seat over bristled as I sat down, stared out of the window the entire time, had her earphones in and waved away the flight attendants every time one approached. She was best left alone.

Four hours in, an attendant handed me a lunch tray and I responded with a ‘thank you’. My neighbour had finally taken out her earphones and hearing my accent, exclaimed, ‘Oh, so you’re Australian’. That revelation broke the ice, and she thawed a little. We got chatting about New York, and then suddenly a dramatic tale of dread came pouring out.

HILARIOUS WAY I ENDED UP IN FIRST CLASS

TRAVELLER’S SHOCK FIND AS PLANE TOOK OFF

Even the flight attendant couldn’t crack her icy facade.

In a nutshell, my neighbour was returning to New York in an attempt to settle a bitter family feud with her sister, who she had not seen in five years. It was a tale of very angry siblings.

Out of interest, I asked which part of Manhattan her sister lived. “On 86th at West End Avenue,” she replied. That was the exact same block where I was staying, and there was no way she could have known as my itinerary was only on my phone. I responded, “Okay, this is strange as that is the same street I’m staying in number 334.”

Suddenly, she pulled her itinerary out of her handbag. “And my sister is in 328 — I’m pretty sure we’re next door to each other.”

What was the chance? We compared each other’s itineraries and started to laugh. That was when she told me her name was Amanda and made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.

“My sister is sending a car with a driver. Quite frankly, I am dreading the trip into the city, so if you want a lift into the city, please keep me company. But, to be clear, this is not a pick up!”

Champagne and limos: The only way to arrive in NYC.

I’m not one to encourage getting into cars with strangers, but I had heard enough to be convinced her troubled situation was legit. Sure enough, after we landed and walked out of arrivals, there was a uniformed man waiting with her name written on a fancy board. “That’s me,” she announced, as the chauffeur took our bags and directed us toward a shiny silver Rolls Royce.

As I climbed in, there was a note waiting for Amanda — obviously from the sister — and a bottle of chilled Moet. “I’m guessing she wants me drunk before we face each other,” she shrugged. “Okay, help me polish this off.”

Which is what we did as the car glided from JFK to 86th Street. By the time we arrived, that bottle was empty, we were giggly and sure enough, our apartment blocks were right next to each other.

As she looked up at her sister’s building, the smile drained from her face. It was then I saw tears in her eyes.

“Listen, if it gets too bad, just knock on the walls and I will meet you on the corner for a drink,” I offered. She gave my hand a squeeze, pushed open the lobby door and disappeared inside. I never saw her again.

I kept an eye out for her over the next week but as we had not exchanged numbers, I couldn’t check on how the reunion went. Still today, whenever on a plane next to someone who obviously doesn’t want to talk, I think of Amanda. I also wonder for a moment what might be going on for that person.

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