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WBW: A Wallah Bro Sat Next to Me on My Flight and I Wanted to Jump out the Window

WBW: A Wallah Bro Sat Next to Me on My Flight and I Wanted to Jump out the Window

Written by Anonymous.

It was a two and a half hour flight — and I was about to encounter a very serious wallah bro. Let me tell you what happened. I brought my book in preparation and was reading as soon as I found my seat. Two minutes later, the passenger assigned to the seat next to mine came down the aisle. I saw him coming and thought to myself, please don’t let him be next to me.

I was always a nervous wreck on airplanes and I liked to be alone. Engaging in forced pleasantries with strangers made things worse. But he sat next to me, his smile wide and a bit out of place. In 30 seconds, he had volunteered his name and why he was on the flight. Silently, I kicked myself for responding to his initial greeting. I knew then that this guy would not run out of things to say for the next two hours.

‘Hey, you’re not gonna like, blow the plane up, are you?’ He laughed again, grinning and highly pleased with himself.

Even though I held my book as a shield and made it a point of wanting to be left alone, he kept talking. He wanted to guess my ethnicity and wanted to know what business I had in New York — I kept reading, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.

When I refused to acknowledge his attempts to chat me up, he paused for a few seconds, which prompted me to look up, hoping he had taken the hint and would finally find something else to occupy his time. But when I glanced at him, he was studying me with a smirk on his face. He seemed delighted that he finally had my attention, and laughed.

“Hey,” he whispered, looking back at the two women sitting behind us to make sure they weren’t listening. “Hey, you’re not gonna like, blow the plane up, are you?” He laughed again, grinning and highly pleased with himself.

‘I know a lot of hijabis and you’re really pretty. I’ve never seen a pretty covered girl.’

Original, I thought after I got over the initial shock of the insult. Creative material, that. Maybe I should’ve held off on marriage for a bit. Who knew I’d find my prince charming on a domestic flight?

Prince Charming wasn’t done.

“I’m just kidding. But seriously, where are you from? I know a lot of hijabis and you’re really pretty. I’ve never seen a pretty covered girl.” This priceless line was delivered with the same pleased smirk, as if he was convinced I couldn’t resist his humor.

At this point, I could no longer stay silent. I’d been flirted with before, but this guy was in a league of his own.

“Was that supposed to impress me?” I asked him. “What are you doing, exactly?”

“I mean, I was trying to get your attention. You were so focused on that book. It can’t be that interesting,” he said, gesturing to the book.

“It’s actually really funny,” I replied. “That’s what you were going for, right?” I replied, giving in and rolling my eyes. He laughed, which hadn’t been my intention.

“Okay, I get it. You want to be left alone. But let me get your number. Can I take you out for coffee sometime?”

Coffee? Was this dude serious? You’ve literally been sitting next to me on a plane for less than half an hour, and you were doing most of the talking! And you want to take me out? Did I miss something?

“I really want to get back to my book. I’m flattered though.” I held my book up so that it blocked his face from view, and he was blessedly silent until the plane took off. I got lost in the story, which was — ironically enough — about an actual prince.

‘My phone died,’ he helpfully volunteered. Can I be next?

The guy next to me (I won’t put you on blast by calling you by your name, even if it would give me pleasure) was on his phone when the flight attendants came down the aisle to ask us if we wanted any drinks. When he ordered alcohol, I groaned. Great, just what this guy needs, I thought. Liquid courage.

It only took 15 minutes for the drink to kick in, and he was back at it. He leaned into my personal space and asked about my book, this time wanting to know what it was about. I pressed my back against the window and told him to back off, but the sharp tone in my voice didn’t register.

“My phone died,” he helpfully volunteered. Can I be next? I thought to myself. “Hey, what’s your instagram? I’ll give you mine to put in your phone.”

When I told my friend about the encounter, she told me she knew who the guy was and — wait for it — that he was engaged to one of her friends.

“I don’t have one,” I lied.

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“Oh.” He seemed a bit confused, probably not expecting that. “Facebook, then.”

“Don’t have that either.”

Finally, finally, he huffed in defeat and leaned back in his seat to take a nap.

Silently, I rejoiced, and prayed that he would be knocked out the rest of the flight. I felt emotionally exhausted from the ordeal.

But here’s the kicker:

When I told my friend about the encounter, she told me she knew who the guy was and — wait for it — that he was engaged to one of her friends.

Needless to say, the engagement was called off.

And to the wallah bro who made my plane ride back home hell:

I hope you die alone.

 

 

 

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