34 E, F

Those are the seat numbers of the world’s loudest children. Really. I was sitting right in front of them on the flight to Chicago this morning.

Before taxing to take off, I heard 37 different renditions of the ABC song, as well as the Happy Birthday song, in varying pitches and tones.

I always wear my seat belt, even when the seat belt sign isn’t illuminated. Today it paid off. I had drifted to sleep sometime shortly after takeoff. The lull of movement, any movement, really, car, train, plane, boat, beckons me to sleep. Today was no exception. I was almost to that point of unconsciousness, that point where I can tell I can’t feel anything, when a loud, “Bang!” pierced my ears. 34F had decided to cross that slight boundary between his row and mine. I felt myself jumping out of my seat, jerked back into place by my seat belt.

It was a long flight.