Mile high flub

After spending a flight under the influence of industrial pain-killers and wrapped up, head included, in a blanket, I finally got my wits about to start enjoying the fine Singapore Airlines service. Fortunately, the on-demand movie list did not feature Iron Man or its sequel. I went on to watch a decent Israeli move, A Matter of Size. Needless to say, there is the unwritten movie code that any movie about people who are fat, terminally ill, colored, gay, crippled, mentally retarded etc must end happily ever after. This was no exception.

There were nevertheless numerous funny moments causing me to burst out as is my wont. As my movie ended, so did that of my neighbor, and we began talking. What a doll! I mean the haircut, which looked as if a laser had cut the front of her hair into a perfectly straight set of bangs. And she was pretty, dressed classily including stiletto heels, had, to borrow a phrase from the movie, "meat on her bones" and a fetching smile and eyes that shone mischief and intelligence. The ultimate china doll.

We eventually got talking, and she spent the next couple of hours watching my movie recommendation. Out the corner of my eye, I saw she was thoroughly enjoying the Hebrew movie as well. Score! It mildly disturbed me that she was reading - or at least carrying -  "(British) Glamour". She later explained that the magazine not only has pictures to flip through, but the occasional thoughtful article. Hugh Heftner would be proud. We were ambivalent about Sex and the City, in agreement over the greatness of New York, but the conversation almost ended when she expressed admiration for Robert Downey Junior.

We chatted after landing, but as we were disembarking, I lost her as she hung back to meet someone, get her stroller or whatever. Or maybe she decided to lose me. Maybe I can find her on Twitter.