Not a long-term relationship, but I have met people who were gracious about being awakened to vacate an aisle seat so that I could go to the bathroom, and I had very warm feelings about them at the time.

No, not a relationship that survived the trip. The most compelling of the relationships I’ve ever formed on a plane was in the 1960s on a plane ride from Chicago to Cleveland. Sitting next to me was an attractive woman about my own age; we exchanged a few pleasantries and then began reading our books. After a while we encountered bad weather and the plane began bumping up and down and we realized we were more or less aimlessly flying around. She and I began to talk about our lives and she told me she was married and had four young children and a serious, possibly fatal autoimmune disease and that she went to Cleveland once a month for treatment.

A lot of time passed before the pilot announced we were landing at some airport far from our destination and that we would all be let off the plane and called back when the weather cleared. She and I went into the airport and had a Coke and talked some more about her illness, her husband and children. Very soon, we were told to board the plane again, that we could go on to Cleveland. We took off and again, started bouncing all over God’s heaven. She and I held hands and as the time went by — way too much time — we talked softly, whispering our complaints to each other about the silence of the pilots. The other passengers on the full plane were totally silent … you would have thought the plane was empty. My friend and I continued holding hands as I thought to myself how ironic it was that this poor lovely woman was worried about dying of her disease but instead was going to die with me on the plane.

Finally, after a couple of hours, the pilot announced that we had been flying around over various states but that we were going to be able to land in a few minutes in Cleveland. Still the bumping was such that no one spoke or made a sound … until we landed. And then we all burst into applause and cheers and my friend and I laughed and hugged and said good-bye. 

My husband ran airlines and created hotels around them. When we married he had taken control of Braniff and my agency had the joy of redoing the entire airline. It was one of the best jobs I ever had. But best of all, as Braniff was the air transport for the Dallas Cowboys, my daughters got to know each one of them and they were adorable with my girls. We were always on the same planes. One of my daughter’s friends’ father was the coach, so Katy, my daughter, developed a loyalty to the Cowboys that she has never lost. She takes her children from New Jersey to Dallas for the big games and even her children know all there is to know about each player.

My own cutest experience was on a flight to Ireland from London. The man seated next to me was curious about the books I was reading because I was in the process of furnishing my new home in Dublin. He told me the books were all wrong and I would be disappointed.

He took out a notepad and started with “Kitchen”: and then moved on to each area of the house making notes while talking to me in detail about each place he suggested as THE place for great dishes, a refrigerator, sheets, slipcovers, top quality furniture, dog accessories, wine and wine coolers – and as he gave me advice he also gave me wonderful funny gossipy stories about other houses in Dublin. He was absolutely enchanting and I would have followed him anywhere.  As we were leaving and shaking hands and I was thanking him, he twinkled – yes twinkled – and said, "Tell your decorator you were advised on the plane by Bertie Ahern — and he really knows the best of Ireland." I haven’t seen Bertie since that day. Bertie, wherever you are, hopefully someone will pull this up onto your screen. Thank you. You were 100 percent right.    

A few years ago flying home from Miami to New York, I squeezed into the window seat in the first row — and buried myself in work. Just as we were landing, I looked over to see my neighbor in 1B was a very good-looking man.

He struck up a conversation as we landed and we exchanged business cards. A few e-mails later we met for dinner and then dated on and off for four months. It was odd and fun. We came from totally different circles and knew no one in common, rather like what an extended shipboard romance must have been like in another age.

No, I usually keep my head down or turned to the window in terror that the person next to me will talk to me for the next five hours. One time I was doing just that when there was a horrible bump followed by really terrible turbulence. I was so frightened ( I’m a white-knuckle flier in any case) that I grabbed the hand of the man next to me and didn’t let go of my grip on him till the plane was almost on the ground. As we pulled to the gate he asked me to dinner. I said, “I’m married!” and he said, “I thought you might fool around.” Ever since then when I’m scared I grab the corner of the seat.

No, terrified as I am in the air, I am always reviewing the safety card or buried in a book hoping to forget where I am. No feeling for socializing.                              

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No, but I’ve noticed a changing style in passenger-ship the past few decades. When I first flew, in the ’70s, getting on a plane was still new and exciting. People sat next to each other and thought they were supposed to strike up a conversation — "Hi, I’m Joe Smith from Daytona." The novelty and excitement of the experience made people open. I remember a flight with my aunt and uncle to San Juan once in the early ’70s — people were allowed to move around in the cabin in those days, and smoke, and they visited each other down the aisles and talked loud to be heard over the engines, and laughed loud. I remember on that flight everyone was in Bermuda shorts or capri pants, and it was so festive; they were starting their vacations right there. Now, of course, everyone is used to flying, it’s not exciting and there are more rules, and stewards have to keep their eye on everyone, grimly, lest anyone pull a bomb out of their shoe. And people don’t talk to each other as they once did. The person next to you will make eye contact, briefly, and then say nothing until the food comes. It feels rude to eat side by side with someone and say nothing, so they’ll say, "Well, this looks adequate," and smile briefly. I think people see their plane seats now as a safe alone place to think about what happened at the meeting or what’s coming up at the sales pitch. It’s so quiet. All you hear is the engines, and the dry tap tap of plastic on plastic as people type on their computers. I miss the old joy. But I’m grateful for the alone place too.

Let me add something about the stewardesses of America circa 1950 to 1980. They were fabulous. They were capable and quick and sturdy but they also felt, and were taught, that part of their job was to be nice — to be sweet to kids and to calm the nervous and to be gentle with the old person and to keep the drunk guy in line in the nicest possible way. It was like they were all southern. People used to make fun of them: "Coffee, tea or me," "Poor flying geishas unaware of their oppression by the patriarchy." But they were wonderful, capable, beautiful, and our culture is lesser for their absence. What a great movie scene it could be if you could transfer iconic figures of the ’50s into a moment in time today. The stewardess of 1962 could go down the airplane aisle being sunny and beautiful, and dumbstruck passengers in 2008, us, the famous flying cattle, would stare in awe, and then stand and applaud. Then a modern steward could come in and tell them to sit down or the flight will be diverted and they’ll be reported to TSA.