Like millions of Americans whose Fourth of July holiday consisted of nothing more than watching fireworks while consoling their crazed dogs, I found myself ensnared in the alleged love story at 30,000 feet, known on social media as #PlaneBae.
Briefly, it starred Rosie Blair and Houston Hardaway, a couple traveling from New York to Dallas on Alaska Airlines Flight 3327. Separated by a row, Blair asked Hardaway’s assigned seatmate if she would switch seats so the couple could sit together. I’ve been the recipient of many similar requests on flights and almost always comply, unless the proposed accommodation is a middle seat or within arm’s reach of the lavatory.
The solo traveling woman agreed and moved up one row, finding herself seated next to a man also traveling solo. Blair and Hardaway should have watched an inflight movie. Instead, Blair whipped out her phone and began documenting the innocuous rearrangement, beginning with this tweet: “We made a joke that maybe her new seat partner would be the love of her life and well, now I present you with this thread.”
And what a thread it was. Unbeknownst to the newly paired couple, Blair, via words and photos, was broadcasting their every move, even if it meant PAYING for Wi-Fi, an expense she revealed in a tweet. Blair eavesdropped on, and exposed, their conversations — “they’re both personal trainers” — while posting pics of their elbows moving closer to one another. Hardaway joined in, posting a selfie video while whispering, “The drink cart is coming. I’m really hoping he orders her a drink. That’s what I want to happen.”
As the Twitter views, and interest, piled up, Blair and Hardaway reveled in their new stalker roles. Even after the plane landed, the pair followed the mystery couple through the terminal, snapping a photo as they walked together. Later, Blair tracked the pair on Instagram, eventually contacting the male, Euan Holden, a former soccer player and current model. Holden allowed Blair to reveal his name, and he is now a minor celebrity. The woman, perhaps wary of media attention, is known only as “Helen.” Her anonymity has prevented her from appearing on morning news shows, which were all too happy to host Blair, Hardaway and Holden.
As creepy as I find this form of voyeurism, I admit I’ve been guilty of it in the past. From my preferred aisle seat on planes, I have discretely snapped, and posted, images of fellow travelers engaged in questionable hygienic behavior. I, too, have peered at other passenger’s laptops, taking photos and inviting my followers to chime in on the contents. At a Midway Airport gate, annoyed that a woman was loudly Facetiming with her daughter and grandchild at 5:30 a.m., I recorded the conversation and posted it to my social media feeds, complete with some snarky dialogue.
Maybe I did this out of boredom. Or to be funny. What I never contemplated is how I would feel if somebody recorded footage of me without my knowledge. What if, after a lengthy flight, I wearily logged on to Instagram and realized a photo of me discretely picking my nose somewhere over Wyoming had been viewed, and commented on, more than half a million times? What if the Twitterverse now knew me as #BoogerBoy? What if my indiscretion led to my airline of choice rescinding my frequent flier status? For every #PlaneBae story that, so far, ends happily, there are thousands of people who have been publically shamed online through no fault of their own.
So, I apologize to Facetiming Grandma, aisle seat guy loudly clearing his nasal passages (even though it’s totally gross), window seat lady rapping (badly) along to the music emanating from her earbuds, and everyone else I have attempted to embarrass online. In the future, I shall try my best to only record inanimate objects. It won’t be easy.
You should see what the guy next to me at the traffic light is doing right now.
