Rob and Rob

Ah, airplanes. I was in the middle seat of the middle chunk-of-three. The worst. The seat mate to my right (Rob) announced his arrival by dropping a plastic-cupped strawberry daiquiri on the floor in front of my seat, where it miraculously did not splash open and ruin everything. He then apologized if he smelled like booze, but he had only gone to bed a couple of hours ago. Usually drunk people on planes are annoying, but he was quite charming and we had a lovely chat. The seat mate to my left (also Rob) arrived next with a Taylor guitar in a soft case. We all talked about music and traded iPods. Rob ToTheRight was a financial analyst, and Rob ToTheLeft was a psychoanalyst. Rob and Rob the analysts. I was telling this story to John by the bathroom when the stewardess overheard me and tuned in for the gossip. Then she asked winkingly if Rob ToTheRight was inconveniencing me, and if I would like a free drink for the trouble. Hells yes I would. Thanks American Airlines!