On the return trip from New York, my mid-flight nap was interrupted by the sound of applause mid-way up the plane. A stewardess informed us that someone had proposed in the middle of coach, that the offer had been accepted, and that the people in the surrounding rows were now toasting the newly-engaged couple with $4 mini-bottles of wine.
The stewardesses seemed especially proud, as apparently they'd had some hand in the scheme. I never did learn the details, but it seems it was quite the complicated ruse - although, I don't really know how complicated a ruse you can pull off within the crowded confines of an airplane cabin, short of having an oxygen mask drop down with a ring attached to it.
Perhaps the ring had been inserted into the piping hot beef casserole served with the in-flight meal. Nothing garnishes a spork like a 12-carot diamond. Worst case, the highly-trained flight crew could have used their expert Heimlich maneuver skills to dislodge the ring from the woman's gullet.
Perhaps the ring had been hidden in air-sickness bag - or the "comfort bag", as I think they're calling it these days. Nothing relieves turbulence-induced nausea like the promise of true love forever. Then again, I'm not sure what kind of guy wants his proposal dependent on motion sickness, and your beautiful bride-to-be probably isn't at her loveliest when she's pale and sweating. Besides, if the moment doesn't go just right, there's always that chance your expensive ring gets a little "comforting" of its own.
Or perhaps the ring had been planted in the Skymall catalogue, right between the Hot Dog Bun Maker and Mombasa, the $900 Garden Giraffe.
Now that I think of it, maybe the oxygen mask thing would have been the best idea. The resulting mass-panic surely would have provided quite a lovely contrast to the romantic moment.