When one shows up an hour before departure on an international flight, seat choice is limited. I found myself in 40E. Bonnie, Sarah and Chris were scattered about the aircraft. Small worry tho, we were going to Belfast!

40F was a young man mid- 20s. My slide into my seat was followed closely by 40D, a pretty young blonde woman. After sorting myself out, I nodded to the young man and said “Isn’t that the way it always works out. A pretty blonde to talk to and some old guy slides in between!”.  He chuckled.

The three of us chatted for a few minutes, I relating my story of how Belfast came to be and how delighted I was to be going there. They were both from Belfast, had come to New York on holiday and seemed to be a bit bummed as we all are as the days draw to a close.

40D said she hoped I would enjoy Belfast. I assured her I would. How could I not?

Just then I noticed her lean into the aisle, talking to someone. I asked her if she was traveling with a friend and she said yes, her friend was a few rows up. The very definition of ebullient, I offered to switch seats, although I don’t really like aisle seats, hate being pummeled by carts and every broad butt that comes up the aisle. I accepted the heartfelt thanks from the two young ladies, and still smiling at the prospect of Belfast, I moved to 36C. As I left, I said “Good luck” to 40F and he smiled the smile of a man for whom things had taken a decided turn for the better.

Safely in 36C, I nodded a smile to a middle-aged couple and proceeded to adjust myself to the new environment. Safety lectures, roaring engines, lift-off and we were on our way. Sarah’s quoting of Rick Steves’ admonition, “be flexible” danced before my eyes.

I watched “The Devil wears Prada”, noting that the lady in 36B was watching it also. They fed us well, noting that this 757 was a much nicer aircraft than the 737 cattle-car Denver to Newark. I dozed, watched bits and pieces of other movies, read a bit, watched the little airplane move across the broad expanse of the Atlantic.(570mph, 34,972 feet, 2861 miles traveled, time to arrive Belfast 0855, 54°F)

As we neared the island of Ireland, I mentioned to the lady in 36B that we shared a taste in movies. She nodded and replied in something I was unfamiliar with – a deep North Ireland brogue. We chatted, soon her husband was chiming in, I was nodding, smiling and hoping for questions that I had a chance of understanding.

They too were pleased with the story of how Belfast came to be, although they didn’t live in Belfast but in Antrim, near Lough Neagh. (“Lock Nee” - why I understood that is beyond me). They were upper middle-class, on holiday to New York, a frequent destination to salve the need some of us have for the hustle-bustle of a big city. He did something, he told me, I continued my nodding and smiling. They were nice people and my delight grew at coming to a place where such nice people lived.

The descent started, the landing gear came down and a few minutes later, the screech of tires welcomed us to Ulster.