Dealing with the breakfast ‘booth gopher’

I’ve never been afraid to fly. I don’t think I could even count the number of times I’ve been on a plane, and by now it has all the excitement and joy of a bus ride.

I usually find my seat, settle in and get as comfortable as I can (which isn’t very comfortable) and try to sack out. Rarely, am I tired and lucky enough to fall asleep before the plane takes off. Usually, I’m awake long enough for the person sitting next to me to try and strike up a conversation. Be my new pal (sigh). I’m generally not the anti-social type, but on a flight, I admit I try to impersonate one. But every once in a great while, I get one of those flights that come with a guarantee I won’t get any sleep.

It starts out with that weird that somebody is looking at you, that inherent radar that makes you slowly open your eyes. And there it is, the 4-year-old child leaning over the seat in front of you, staring. Not smiling. Not blinking. Not speaking. Just staring. So, you stare back. Maybe you try to smile, or you wait for the child’s parent to tell the child to “stop that,” to sit back down in his/her seat, but it never happens. You are trapped with no way out.

You can stare back at the child or perhaps look away, but alas, you can still feel those eyes staring at you and it is only a matter of time before you’ll find yourself swinging your own eyes back again. Finally, after an eternity, the little person’s legs get tired and he/she sits back down, but he or she continues to stare at you between the crack in the seat.

“Why oh why doesn’t the parent say anything?” The answer: as long as the child isn’t screaming, whining or begging the parent for something, the parent is more than happy to let the child leer at you. After all, that means the parent can get some rest at your expense. This is actually a blessing, because once the parent has closed his/her eyes, you can begin making faces at the child or perhaps pretend to pick your nose. But be quick! When the child gets spooked and starts tugging on his/her parent’s shirt to wake them up and point at you, it’s important to look sound asleep. I’ve had 50/50 success with the parent then admonishing the child to stop looking back.

I only wish this experience was limited to the airplane. Sooner or later, the “Children of the Corn” make an appearance at the restaurant. Wasn’t too long ago that Glenny and I were enjoying a no-kids late breakfast at the Noisy Goose, enjoying adult conversation without some random child interrupting for this or that. True peace — until the booth gopher popped up. You know booth gophers, those little varmints that suddenly pop up and just stand there staring. Forever.

Our conversation came to a screeching halt as the little girl, masticating a French fry with her mouth open, a bit of snot dripping from one nostril, just stood there on the booth chair staring at us. Glenny, being the nicer half of our breakfast date, eventually smiled at the girl and said, “Hi!” (This is a clever tact. This is a way to try and raise the attention of the parents who will hopefully ask the child to stop staring, turn around, sit down, etc.) No dice. The girl’s parents were devouring their meal as if they hadn’t eaten in weeks and couldn’t be bothered with pesky parenting. Heck, they weren’t even talking to each other as they shoveled their food into their maws.

So we were stuck trying to enjoy our food with the drippy-nosed booth gopher staring at us as she smacked her food like a cow chewing cud. (At what age do most parents begin to teach their children to chew with their mouths closed? Did I just luck out when my own pretty much had it down as toddlers?)

After what seemed an eternity, she finally spoke. Leaning forward over the booth and into our seat, she extended her hand to within a foot of my wife’s plate, extended her ketchup-encrusted finger and hollered to her parents, “Can I have some of that?”

Ah, finally her parents would take a second to look up from their plates, see what their little snookums was doing and would no doubt be quick to order her to turn around and sit down. Or maybe they would ask her, “What’s that, sweetie?” and actually peek around to see what was on Glenny’s plate.

It is at times like these that God points out to me just how gracious he was in bringing Glenny into my life. She knows me so well that she quickly places a hand on my leg in a way that’s code for, “Easy, Ben, easy.” (Apparently I have “that look” that lets everybody within sight know that I’m less-than-pleased. The hand on the leg is my reminder to relax.) The parents went back to tossing their food into their mouths, the booth gopher continued to stare.

Two to-go boxes and the check, please.

Ever been in a plane, restaurant or anywhere else where you weren’t paying attention to your child and had your little darling start frantically tugging on your shirt or pants while pointing at some man telling you in alarm that the he made a face at him/her? Hi.

Ben Compton is a Palmer resident and publishes his column as “Compton’s Corner,” the same title used by his grandmother, Phyllis Compton, a longtime Frontiersman columnist.