You know those little mini fridges? The kind you find in hotel or dorm rooms? Imagine being crammed inside one of those for three hours and you’ll get a pretty good idea what it feels like to fly coach, in the middle seat, from, say, San Jose to Dallas, or Dallas to Raleigh.
From March through August, Steve and I were aboard 18 different flights. We’ve agreed that he always gets the window seat since he makes the best use of it — he’ll sit there and look out at the scenery for hours, whereas I get tired of being reminded that I’m thousands of feet above the earth — which puts me in the middle. Now if you’re no bigger than the average kindergartner, the middle seat is plenty roomy. But if, like me, you’re of average height and weight, your best bet is to become a professional contortionist. At the very least, be prepared to pull in your knees, suck in your gut and tuck in your elbows, ‘cause it’s gonna be tight. On top of the already restricted space of the middle seat, there also appears to be an unwritten rule dictating that the “shared” armrests belong to the folks seated in the window and aisle seats, which means that I’ve now spent so many hours with my elbows tucked tightly into my sides that I’m afraid I’ve bruised my intestines.
Most people these days pass the time on planes watching movies or playing games on their phones. I usually read, but on long flights, I like to try to get some work done — and that poses an entirely new set of challenges.
On a recent three-hour flight from San Jose to Dallas, I decided to do some writing. My laptop was, per regulations, stowed beneath the seat in front of me for take-off. When I went to retrieve it, there wasn’t nearly enough room for me to lean forward and get it; instead, I had to bend to the right and rest my head on Steve’s knee at an angle that prevented me from seeing my computer, which resulted in a blind flailing about of my left arm and leg in the general direction of the laptop. Eventually, I managed to drag it out with my foot.
At this point, I was certain the worst was behind me — until I almost coldcocked the woman to my left when trying to remove the laptop from its case. Even narrowly averting that disaster didn’t mark the end of my troubles. After several minutes of typing, hands hunched unnaturally above the keyboard, I realized I needed to retrieve information from a zip drive — which happened to be in my laptop case, which I had returned to its place beneath the seat in front of me.
Here’s how bad the middle seat is: I made a deal with myself years ago that I would limit all food and beverage intake prior to and during flights to lessen any chance of ever having to use airplane bathrooms. They are simply too claustrophobic for me. Well, now a trip to the bathroom is almost a welcome occasion; as tiny as the bathroom is, it’s like a palace compared to the middle seat. The problem with going to the bathroom is that the aisles in planes are so narrow that when someone else is leaving the bathroom and you’re walking toward it, one of you must jump into the lap of an unsuspecting passenger to allow the other to pass. But as I see it, it’s a small price to pay to get to stretch my legs.
I’ve given this a lot of thought (while scrunched up during flight) and I’ve come up with a positive spin for this situation. I think we can start using the middle seat as punishment. Let’s say, for example, you’ve got an unruly teen who’s acting up; forget grounding or limiting screen time. Instead, put him on a plane — coach class, middle seat — to Des Moines and back, and that’ll whip him into shape. Once your 16-year-old has experienced that, I can guarantee he’ll think twice before ever sassing you again.
Or maybe you’ve got an employee who shows up late for work again and again. You’ve warned her repeatedly. Give her the middle-seat treatment. It’ll give her plenty of time to ruminate on the importance of punctuality.
As for me, I have a new appreciation for any mode of travel that does not imprison me in a middle seat. I never ever take armrests for granted. And I drink as much Pepsi as I want before boarding a plane.
Next week: Button up!
