Flying in the middle seat is what Hell must be like

I did it. I survived what can only be described as a human rights violation. I made it back from San Diego in a middle seat between 2 people that know each other.
man in the middle seat

Taking a flight across country could be seen as a luxury to some. Back in the day, people dressed up to go get on an airplane. They’d put on their best Sunday suspenders, wax up their mustaches, and fire off into the wild blue yonder in a metal tube with wings. As the airlines have made a push to pad their bottom line, the customers are the one that suffer, and boy do I have a story for you.

man jumps from plane

Welp. see you later

Welcome to Hell

I did it. I survived what can only be described as a human rights violation. I made it back from San Diego in a middle seat between two people who know each other. Now I don’t mean they know each other like, “hey, good to see you! How have you been?” *puts in headphones and pretends to sleep for 6 hours* I mean, “Hey we’re married but should DEFINITELY buy tickets in an aisle and window seat, and make this kind, generous man between us wish he’d never been born.”
So for 6 hours, these people talked, passed things back and forth, and ate lunch together over my warm, wishing-it-was-dead body. At one point, they watched a movie and I thought I was in the clear, but it turns out I just had a front row seat to listen to Siskel and Ebert give their full-page op-ed on “The Good Dinosaur.” Let’s just say if this flight had been on rotten tomatoes, it would have received a 90% “Pop open the emergency exit door and wish for the best” rating.

“Hey we’re married but should DEFINITELY buy tickets in an aisle and window seat, and make this kind, generous man between us wish he’d never been born.”

The worst part of this WHOLE experience, though, was when we reached lunch time. At some point between takeoff and landing, just between the points of “I wish I was on a no fly list” and “I’d rather be watching the last 20 minutes of Marley and Me on loop,” came the tuna fish sandwiches. TUNA FISH. ON. AN. AIRPLANE. The Geneva Convention not mentioning this was a glaring oversight to say the least. I was stuck in between 2 fishmongers that smelled like high noon in August at a Bangkok public market. But hey, at least my bag made it to my final destination so I could do laundry the next day. So there’s that. Silver linings.

woman at a fish market

TUNA FISH. ON. AN. AIRPLANE.

Without exaggeration, I would have MUCH rather been on a plane full of kindergarten kids that had just left a peers birthday party where they had been free basing powdered sugar. At least that’s something that noise cancelling headphones can overcome. Until they make Terrible-Traveling-Ettiquette-Canceling Headphones, count me out. Get me a bus and I’ll John Madden my way cross-country next time, no more middle seats for this guy.

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