And now it's time for a couples skate.

Have you missed me? The reasons I haven't been able to blog in so many days are multiple, the main one being that my laptop refused to connect to the internet for about four days. I was going to post about all the things I miss out on when I don't have online access but really, I think you all can imagine. It's tough, maddening even, but too boring to blog about.

I've got tons of blog post ideas all saved up, but for today I'll just share a little story.

Last Saturday evening, I sat down in a middle seat on an Air Tran flight from Ft. Meyers to Chicago. To my left was Little Bit, strapped into his car seat and offering no indication that he might sleep during the flight (even though it was definitely his bedtime).

In the previous twenty-four hours, every member of my family had either had diarrhea (Little Bit), vomiting (Bub), or a combination of the two (myself, hubby, and my mother-in-law). Hubby and I were weak and tired and praying that all of us (seemingly on the mend, but still a bit shaky) would remain emission-free during the flight. The thought of changing a diarrhea-filled diaper in an airplane lavatory with my huge, pregnant stomach was almost unbearable. If I had to though, I knew I could do it. I also knew that I was supposed to get up and walk a couple of times during the flight since pregnant women are at greater risk of getting blood clots. I'll wait until Little Bit falls asleep, I strategized. Yes, I told myself, it will all be okay. In a few hours we will be home.

And then, I saw a gate agent practically carrying a passenger down the aisle. The woman could barely walk. Yes, she looked like she was in pain and in a bad mood. Yes, she would be sitting to my right in the aisle seat. Yes, I was trapped in my seat for the remainder of the flight.

Yes, I started crying. Not sobbing, mind you, but whimpering quietly to myself as Little Bit continued to fuss and fidget. Poor MEP.

My tears were interrupted by my travel companion asking me where her seatbelt was. I had the great privilege of being allowed to reach under her behind to retrieve it for her. Happy to help.

And then she wanted to talk. I'm not one of those people who hates talking to strangers on planes so, okay, happy to listen.

But then, the tales of woe that she laid on me were almost more than I can handle: a grandson with a debilitating disease, a recently deceased twin sister, a no good brother-in-law, some conflicts over family heirlooms, a cousin who recently drank a fatal dose of Drano, a cleaning lady with drug-addicted sons, multiple miscarriages, a black and blue butt cheek from a painful shot, a leg that was not working, sisters-in-law convinced she was taking too much medicine, a disappointing meal at Red Lobster . . . you will just have to trust me that I have only scratched the surface with this list. I ran out of phrases of the "That's awful"- "Unbelievable"--"I'm so sorry"--"That must have been so hard"--"How terrible" variety.

Little Bit fell asleep so I just kept stroking his little hand and listening.

Mixed in with these tragic stories were pieces of advice, such as the fact that I would be a fool not to purchase a ranch-style house with a Florida room and that she was pretty sure that the taxes were high in the community where we plan to move.

I hope it does not seem like I am going out of my way to be unkind or snarky about this woman. Because truly, even though I felt depressed and kind of weighed down the more I listened, I was happy to listen and happy if my listening helped her forget the pain in her leg and butt cheek for the remainder of the flight. And, let's face it, I felt a lot better about my own life the more she talked.

And she told me a few things about herself that I will always remember with a smile and that made the tales of woe totally worth hearing. The first is that she and her husband met at a roller rink. They did their courting at the roller rink (I'm guessing in the 1950s) where they skated together three days a week. I was absolutely charmed by the idea of time when two young twentysomethings would meet up to roller skate three days a week! Just seems more romantic than texting or meeting at a bar, you know? They celebrated their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary with a skating party at the very roller rink where they fell in love. How adorable is that? Her husband had not skated in years, but when he hit the party, it all came back to him. She had no trouble at all at the anniversary party because she had kept skating for years. When her kids were school age, she and her girlfriends met at the roller rink every Thursday morning to skate and then went out to lunch. There are no words for how much I would love to be a part of a routine like that.

When we landed, this woman's son and daughter-in-law were waiting just outside security to pick her up (her husband and granddaughter were driving home from Florida, but she was in too much pain for the long drive). I hoped that they loved her as much as I knew from our conversation that she loved them. I'm sure they do, just as I am also sure that there are moments when they are frustrated by her complaints, ailments, and woeful tales . . . times when they want to roll their eyes and sigh.

I hope at those moments, they can picture her at the roller rink.