In all my years of airplane travel, I have set next to 350 lb. men and women, convicted criminals, people with diarrhea of the mouth, escapees from the funk farm and a few kindly old ladies, but I have never set next to a pretty woman—unless I brought her with me. On low cost airlines where there are no assigned seats, people are free to choose who they sit next to at least until the plane begins to fill up and then they must take whatever seat is available. However, most of my flying has been with airlines with pre-assigned seating and it would seem that during 20 plus years of flying that at least one pretty woman would have had a seat assignment next to mine, but it never happened. I’ve seen plenty of pretty women in airports and on airplanes, but in 20 years of flying not one has set next to me. I am beginning to smell a conspiracy. I believe the airlines have my name and picture posted some place that only I can’t see and they allow other air travelers to avoid me. Lately, I think my face is scanned each time I enter an airport and an alert goes out to all the carriers telling them to be sure not to seat a woman of even moderately good looks within two rows of me. I see them whispering and typing rapidly while I stand in line to give up my boarding pass so I can take my pre-assigned seat. In know they are talking about me and scanning the crowd for any undesirables they can seat next to me. You are probably thinking that I am paranoid and insecure, but I know different. It is a setup and I am the unwilling pawn in a game of air subterfuge designed to keep me off their planes. They even have me marked on the Internet. Being able to book a flight and choose a seat over the Internet is great and the fares are cheaper, but I now that even that is rigged against me. Somehow the seating arrangement charts are warning other fliers of my whereabouts on the plane and suggesting that passengers sit elsewhere which leaves me as prey for those conniving gate ticket agents who take great glee in sitting man with terminal flatulence next to me. I’m not looking for women, but after 20 years of riding with axe-murderers, dictators, bag-women and prisoners in chains—I know the deal. They don’t want me on their airplanes, but that’s okay because I plan to wait them out. Sooner or later it is going to happen. One day when there are no more seats left except the one next to me, then, it will happen. She will be goddess beautiful. Perfect in every way and she will glide down the aisle and sit next to me. Her perfume will float with her as I stand to let her in the seat next to window. Everyone will see the beautiful woman set next to me and I will have won. Of course, being paranoid and untrusting, I know they won’t let this happen and the beautiful woman will have beard stubble and an Adam’s apple the size of a walnut. Fortunately, the airlines don’t control the seating arrangements outside of the airport. When that sleek black car pulls up to the curb and I get in, I know the passenger of my dreams will be sitting next to me as she has done always.