The Exact Right Moment to Make Small Talk on an Airplane

This is One Thing, a column with tips on how to live.

I am a frequent traveler, and may be among the few who actually enjoy flying. The longer the flight, the better. Between the pretzels and peanuts and free movies, I appreciate the opportunity to put on headphones and lose myself in a book I don’t have time for. Or a podcast I haven’t gotten to. Or to sleep. I can be out before the plane leaves the ground.

I also relish the chance to interact with strangers I might never meet otherwise. Airports and airplanes are the great equalizer, where just about any member of any society can find themself thigh to thigh and shoulder to shoulder with any other (yes, even in coach). On the ground, I am far from an extrovert, but in the air, I will go out of my way to strike up a conversation with whoever is sitting next to me.

Still, a flight can provide a lot of hours to fill, and not all conversationalists are created equal.

So I have a rule that I use. I always wait until the pilot announces the plane’s descent before I chat up my seatmates. That 20 minutes is long enough to open up an array of intriguing doors, from restaurant recommendations in the destination city to business or even personal connections. You can meet some fascinating people in the time it takes a plane to descend. But if the exchange goes awry—if they seem weird, or in a worst-case-scenario are over-talkers—then it’s not too long before you can make a clean escape.

Using this guideline, I have met published writers and galleried artists, D1 basketball coaches and successful entrepreneurs, friends of friends and potential love interests, and a multitude of other individuals who were just enthralling to speak with. I have also happily packed up my bag and walked away from conversations that were less than on-the-level, whether conspiratorial, drama-ridden, or just plain boring. Sometimes they don’t want to talk at all, in which case there was no harm done. In every case, I rarely regret the interaction.

I live in a mountain town, and recently applied a variation of the rule to ski chairlifts. Six minutes in the snow can feel like forever, so I wait until we’re approaching the top of the peak. It also works on bus rides, and even in restaurants. Give yourself an out, and the risk is always worth the reward. Or as someone I once met in Row 26 put it: “The juice is worth the squeeze.”