Do you want to sit next to me on this flight to London?

My seat mate on the flight from Toronto to London was quite an interesting woman. When we arrived at our seats (she cut in front of me in the check-in line at the airport), her face contorted itself into a look of supreme disappointment in her seat mate. I couldn't say I was very happy either. She spent the first ten minutes on board counting how many crying children were in the economy class (eight, to be exact). I made a snap judgment about her as we settled down into our seats: she was a rich woman (as I could deduce from the jewelry) and was used to sitting in first class where she wouldn't have to share a seat and would be far away from crying babies. But due to some unfortunate circumstance, she now had to travel in economy with all the yokels.
As we taxied down the runway, I wondered if I should actually give her a reason to be sorry she was sitting next to me....I could drink a large quantity of water during the flight and then continually interrupt her sleep by asking her to move so I coud go to the washroom. But before I put my diabolical plan into action, the woman redeemed herself by:
a.) sharing a chocolate brownie with me
b.) rushing to the aid of another traveller who has cancer and suddenly became rather ill halfway through the trip. My seat mate turned out to be a nurse, and she stayed awake for most of the flight, just so she could walk to the back every 10 minutes and check on the other passenger.
We chatted for a bit, as we got closer to Heathrow and I found out she was from Thunder Bay and would be catching a connecting flight to Aberdeen to visit family. The last I saw of her, she was dashing down the plane, worried that she wouldn't make it to the other side of the airport in time.

Lesson of the day: don't judge a book by its cover.