Ode to the Middle Seat...

Ode to the Middle Seat…

            We’ve all been stuck in that awful middle seat—it’s the most dreaded seat on the plane and we do everything to try to get out of it.  People make seat reservations early so that they can avoid that seat, but sometimes there is nothing you can do to avoid it.  When you travel non-revenue, aka standby, as I most often do, it is nearly impossible to avoid the middle seat.  Sometimes you get lucky and score a window or aisle.  Nowadays, however, with full planes and less flights, where empty seats are hard to come by, the non-rev traveler often finds himself stuck in a middle seat.  Believe me, I’d rather have a middle seat than be stranded at the airport, so I’m not complaining.  Well, not exactly anyway.  I really don’t have anything wrong with the middle seat; however, I must have pissed of the gods of fate at one point in time or another, because I seem to always get stuck in the worst middle seat on the plane—the one that has some unknown but sticky substance stuck to it, the one that doesn’t recline, or the one between two ‘interesting’ (read: crazy) people.  Thus I’ve decided to pay homage to the middle seat in today’s blog entry. 

            I have seen people do some crazy assed things to get out of the middle seat.  I have seen them bribe other passengers to exchange seats—yes, with money! How much, I do not know, but apparently some people can be bought because it sometimes works.  I’ve seen more wily passengers concoct some story or other about why they have to sit on the aisle and guilt their seatmate into giving up their prime real estate in exchange for their crap seat.  Surprisingly, that one has worked as well.  Often times, a family will use their children as evidence of why they need to swap seats—and if it were me who had to sit next to a 4-year old devil-in-disguise, I would change seats as well.  My favorites are the people who scope out an empty seat and then nab it when the boarding door closes.  It’s a total competition, where the most daring and steadfast passenger wins.  Some people get so competitive, and I’ve witnessed near brawls when someone steals the seat that another passenger mentally staked out previously.  One particular incident involved two Haitians that started yelling at each other in Creole and gesticulating like they were about to have a takedown brawl.  While they were preoccupied, a woman and her young child happily took claim to their prize and neither man won.  Dumbfounded and grumbling, they both returned to their seats.  Awesome.   

            One of the big problems with the middle seat is the subject of the armrest.  You have one on each side of you, and yet the people seated at the window and aisle, invariably, seem to believe it belongs to them.  Now, I’m sorry but they have access to the aisle or to the window and their very own armrest on the periphery.  Already they are leaps and bounds ahead of me in terms of benefits.  So, why do they think they can claim the center armrests as well?  I mean, I’m already screwed…do you really have to take away my access to the armrests as well?  I’m okay with sharing—I went to kindergarten twice, so I’m very good at sharing (and nap time, but that’s beside the point).  Typically, however, my row-mates aren’t so good at sharing.  What’s more, I think I tend to get stuck with people who were ‘only child’s—you know, the people who are used to getting everything they want and have never had to share anything in their whole lives.  Shameful!

            My other big problem with the middle seat is that I, invariably, get sandwiched in between two rather large individuals.  I’m not a big person, but I do take up the requisite butt and body room of an adult male, and I feel that I deserve access to enough space to make that happen.  I’ve learned the best way to prevent your larger than life seatmate from hedging part of your seat is to pin the armrest down and keep it there—otherwise, when you get up to go to the bathroom, it is very possible that the already little space you have will be swallowed up by someone else’s gluteus Maximus. 

            Recently, I have been unfortunate enough to be assigned the middle seat while sitting next to someone who is downright crazy.  They either mutter to themselves the whole flight, try to talk my ear off about god knows what, or behave in a way that makes you wonder what the voices inside are telling them.  My most favorite recent experience involved a man who was seated at the window seat and, I believe, thought his seat entitled him to maintain full control of the window and its shade.  During the 5-hour flight across the country, the man raised and lowered his window shade to peak outside at the flat expanse of Middle America a good 2 to 300 times.  Not only was that effing annoying, but every time I tried to capture a glance out the window, he would slam down the shade or block off the window opening with his body while throwing me a look that said: ‘this is my seat and my view and I’ll be damned if you’re going to take it away from me’.  It was laughable at first but got old really quickly. 

            So, for you window and aisle seaters out there, I’m sorry that I’m there, I’m sorry that eventually I will have to use the bathroom, and I’m sorry that I might want something from the cart on the aisle or a quick glance out the window.  I’m not sorry at all that I need some space for my toosh or access to the armrest.  Be kind, share and stop muttering.  It’s bad enough as it is…