One Piece of Crucial Advice Involving Airplanes

Don't make this difficult...

As I was on an airplane to visit an old friend in Louisiana, My thoughts kept returning to something that my dad had always stressed to me. I never listened until that moment. Now I've flown my fair share over the years, but my dad's wealth of aviary experience makes me look like quite the neophyte, as he frequently reminds me. The thing that he stressed to me ABOVE ALL ELSE, OVER AND OVER AGAIN, is something that may be the last thing on our minds while getting through the trauma of travel. I remember it going something like this when I was the sage age of about 9:

 "Matt, always get the middle arm rest. Always." 
     "But dad, what if the other person already took it?"
"You politely tell them you have some kind of claustrophobia and you need it."
     "Isn't that lying though? Isn't that bad?"
"There is no lie when it comes to the arm rest on a plane."

Moral discussions aside, I came to find out the rectitude of his words on that fateful journey. Being brief in span of time, the struggle and it's ensuing escalation were made even more pronounced.

I knew she was trouble when she walked in. It wasn't really some incredibly perception of mine, or even a gut feeling; it was apparent to everyone. She had three bags, one of them check-in size, coming onto a fully packed and pretty tiny plane. Her big bag honestly wasn't going to fit in two of the overheads if they welded them together width-wise. All the rest of us passengers were mentally shaking our heads in wondrous disapproval.

A flight attendant come and took the bag up front, mercifully ending the spectacle of the lady trying to figure out where to put all her bags. It was like watching someone try to put a gigantic square peg into a small round hole...For 5 minutes. I think we've all seen people in denial over this or the other thing. This was a stereotypical case of under-the-breath-murmuring, massive-bag denial (UBMMB denial).

The lady finally sat next to me, and happened to grab the squatter rights to the arm rest. What followed is what I refer to as..."The Cold War of Seat 21 AB". 

 I allowed her to revel in her apparent victory, biding my time until the moment came when I could claim the arm rest as my own. Sitting in the aisle seat (21B), my left arm crammed close to my chest as I read a book, I waited like a snake in the grass. Finally, after about 15 minutes of spatial purgatory, she moved her arm for a moment. My elbow shot laterally with the swiftness and silence of a coiled cobra. Pleased with my bloodless victory, I nestled in and prepared to enjoy the spoils of well-executed conquest.

I was congratulating myself with my unobtrusive and almost polite ingenious maneuver, when the empire struck back (so to speak). The woman first noiselessly reconquered half of the arm rest (the top), which I graciously made available as a gesture of good will. Then, no doubt bolstered in courage by her commandeering of the northern province of arm rest, she actually tried to elbow my entire arm off the arm rest. Twice. The first time she at least tried to be diplomatic about it, testing the waters by a firm but almost gentle prod. The second thrust through no-man's land was a full-on frontal assault. I responded by turning my head, looking her straight in the eye with a very stern look, and saying (with a measured level of concern in my voice) "Excuse me, can I help you." 

No doubt put off by my mixture of staunch intractability and British-esque politeness, she was forced to abdicate the arm rest, and the Cold War of Seat 21 AB came to an end. Although tensions definitely came to a head, we were able to come to a common ground before things escalated into too much violence. I told my dad about it the next day and he told me I "should have acted crazy" after she took the arm rest. It's times like these where I love the little things.

Lesson to be learned: The first thing you should do when getting into your seat is IMMEDIATELY CLAIM THE MIDDLE ARM REST. Learn from my mistake. Don't be like me. When it comes to airplane comfort, the early bird gets the worm. Nice guys finish cramped.

~Worley