I have come to realize the simple pleasures associated with a direct flight. There is no frantic scrambling down the runway, suitcase lagging behind you, so that you can make it to the connecting gate. There is also no waiting around while the plane taxis to hear yet another explanation on how to inflate your life vest if the pull tab fails to work. Nor is there the frustration of traveling past your destination only to backtrack on the next flight (Indiana to Florida to Louisiana, I’m looking at you).

A few weeks ago, I boarded one such direct flight. The airport was uncrowded, the security process was fairly uneventful, and I was looking forward to a nice stretch of uninterrupted air time during which to finish a library book that was due in a few days.

That is, until an elderly woman with an eclectic red hat and genial disposition sat down next to me and commented on the length of the seat belt. I smiled, made a comment in return, and proceeded to continue reading.

Not so fast. She continued talking to me, and I continued to reply, until we were engaged in a full-blown conversation. It was mostly centered on several highly amusing tales about her neighbor’s backyard goats, including the tragic anecdote of The Goat that Got Away. To my delight, this woman and I got along splendidly, and the unfinished book on my lap was soon forgotten. We continued, as the plane took off and as we rose above the dreamy cumulus clouds, to chat about everything from the nature of modern education to stories about her parents.

About halfway through the flight, my interlocutor pulled out a small magnetized game of Parcheesi from her bag and asked with a mischievous smile if I wanted to play. Indeed, I would.

We began to set up the game, but to our dismay, the dice were missing. Like two creative geniuses, we came up with a plane-friendly solution: pieces of a ripped up beverage napkin, printed with the numbers 1-6, placed in the bottom of a barf bag. Crisis averted.

We began to play on the mostly-silent plane. Silent, that is, except for the elderly lady and the 20-something woman in hysterics over who could get their Parcheesi pieces across the finish line the fastest.

I think she let me win.

So, no, I was unable to check another item off my to-do list (Finish library book) during my couple of hours in the air. But darn you, to-do list.  I was able to waste time in the best way possible: board games at 36,000 feet with a new stranger-turned-friend. Perhaps not “productive” according to the typical, results-oriented calculation of how I spend my time, but productive of friendship, camaraderie, leisure, and the sheer joy of a charming airplane companion.

This is not a summons to shirk one’s work or school responsibilities in the face of more agreeable alternatives. But it was a reminder to me to have some healthy detachment from my own scheduled plans.

By the way, the next day, I discovered that whoever had requested my library book canceled the request, which allowed me to renew it. I would say I got lucky, but I am pretty sure we call that providence.

Caroline Reuter is a recent graduate of Notre Dame’s Echo program living in Indianapolis. She is looking for another friendly elderly lady to give her knitting lessons.