September 2, 2011
Delta Flight #1580
San Francisco, California to Atlanta, Georgia
Seat 41E
It occurred to me during this week's travels, that on occasion, we need a refresher course on some important social definitions. Today's lesson is regarding the simple and necessary word: MIDDLE
Positive Social Definitions:
Middle: The halfway mark between the starting point and the goal
Middle Ages aka Medieval: In history, the path from classical learning to Renaissance scholarship
Middle School: In academics, the educational bridge between elementary and high school
Middle Ground: In strategy, a compromise between two opposing positions
Middle Child: Peacekeeper, Mediator, Negotiator
Negative Social Definitions:
Middle Finger: A derogatory hand gesture indicating extreme unhappiness or dissapointment
Middle Seat: Hell On Earth (technically, Hell In The Sky)
Random Social Observation
In society there are days whose sole purpose is to remind us that status means nothing. We are all equal and the travel gods intentionally bring us to a place of humility to teach us something. On these days, nothing matters. Not the number of miles you fly...nor how nice you are to the travel humans that rule the universe.
Sometimes, the middle seat just happens. It is up to us to swallow our bitterness and take in the randomness of humanity. Today was that day for me.
Seat 41E lives in the back of a Boeing 757-200. It takes approximately a week to walk the length of the aisle...but give yourself extra time in case there is traffic. I ventured onboard with my grocery bag full of snack food, water, aloe-infused Kleenex (since I was rockin' the double ear and sinus infection), magazines, laptop and gallon jug of hand sanitizer.
My companion to the left, in 41D, was "The Literary Goddess" a fascinating woman that was coming home from a conference in the 'City by the Bay'. She seemed to be cut from the cloth of a San Franciscan...these are her people...I thought maybe she was lost. Long gray hair in a leather ponytail holder, a poncho-style blouse, pajama pants, strands of beads and sandals. I wanted to follow her home to see exactly where she lives in Atlanta. She looked more like a philosophy/poetry teacher at Cal Berkeley than a Southern Belle! She enjoyed discussing books with strangers. In fact, she started a spontaneous book group with Miss 41C and Mr. 40C (who will require the services of a good chiropractor when he lands due to three hours of straining to look over his shoulder since the seatbelt sign was on most of the flight).
To my right was "Split Personality Passenger". Mr. 41F alternated from sleeping with his mouth open and occasionally resting on my shoulder, to spontaneously shouting, "I MUST GET OUT!" and practically throwing our tray tables and magazines out into the aisle to escape. All in all, he requested freedom seven times. That must be some kind of record...
Mr. 41F never spoke to us and ignored the Delta Diva’s offer of snacks and a beverage. I wasn’t asking for a marriage proposal, but some acknowledgment is a moral imperative from a man who has slept on my shoulder and would be sought out by the CSI Unit for having left hair fragments on my sweater.
But during our seventeen...I mean four and half...hours together I learned a couple of things...
- Squeezing into the middle seat is like wearing spandex pants...and I never want to wear them again
- The rule of “Never talk to strangers” should be forgotten once you walk down the jetway...especially if you will be sleeping on my shoulder
- If I should ever meet the inventors of the TV monitors in the airline seats...I will kiss them on the mouth
- Lamaze breathing is as effective for middle seat angst as it is for the pain of childbirth
- The $4 carrot muffin from SFO is expensive...but not tasty...a tough lesson at 37,000 feet
- People with ear infections talk loud...that's what Joey said from his perch in 41B...yes...a middle seat...he can tell his own story...
Oh...and the world is full of amazing people...and they are all just trying to get home...
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