The Spanish couple on our London to Seatle leg were seriously fed up to find that he was in 8A and she was in 8B but that there was an aisle between them and to add insult to injury the aisles didn't even line up. This meant that she was sitting next to some other unsuspecting fella but she did not let that deter her. She bent his ear from the moment his backside hit his seat leather. I fell asleep to her waxing lyrically about British pork and woke an hour later to find her still in full throttle - her victim looking somewhat the worse for wear. Her husband on the other hand, banged away at his slaptop and made it his mission to get his pound of flesh from the hostess. Red wine, peanuts, crackers and whisky were ferried by the lorry load though I noticed that pork scratchings were noticeably absent.
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