The fact that you're reading a Dan Brown book kinda disturbs me, though.
You could at least do it in style.
(The woman began on the isle seat off the plane flight I was on. I was at the window. The guy in the middle had long legs, so she swapped with him so he could stretch out, which was kind of her. She was small, in her late forties, weathered, and with bright blue eyes. Her Dan Brown book (Demons and Angels, I think) was tattered and bent, and the spine broken. She didn't say another word to me during the whole flight, but when the plane hit a bit of turbulence, and she closed her eyes against it, I said, "This is great. I hope it never stops." It did, of course, so I plugged in my headphones and zoned for the flight. I get sick reading, even in air travel.
In case you're wondering, on the flight out of Sydney, I sat next to a guy reading Kafka, who I also don't like a whole lot, though for different reasons. Kafka's very dry, I find, and difficult to get into.)