Parachute Salesman

I met a parachute salesman during my last plane trip. This seems interesting on its face; any further elaboration would be pointless. Or rather, the idea of a parachute salesman is somehow complete without narrative embroidery. But you are probably wondering about this anyway, since I don't usually talk to people on airplanes, let alone salespeople.

But he was very handsome in a twinkly eye sort of way when he was putting his bag in the overhead bin and apologizing for leaning over me. I was reading a medieval history textbook (which who'd have thought would be a real guy magnet?) and he sat down and then left to a seat in a different row (apparently with his boss) and then came back and said "I'd rather sit next to a medieval history book than pages of specs for our new parachute line." I said "you're in the parachute line? how pessimistic." "Au contraire," he rejoined (it is apparently a French parachute company that he works for), and, as you might imagine, very little medieval literature was read until we landed.

This was nearly a week ago and I should add that he apparently listened closely to my name and my college's name and found me and has emailed hello. Despite a wedding ring.

Hm.