I’ve been on many flights by myself. I usually sit by the aisle. I like getting out of my seat several times especially if it’s a 4+ hour flight.
In any one of these flights, my mind goes through the same ritual:
I’m sitting at the aisle and someone else has taken the window seat.
I’m watching everyone walk towards my seat, secretely praying that they are not about to sit in the middle. Oh how glorious it would be if that middle seat was open! I’d move my bag there. I’d have an armrest all to myself.
I got used to my dream of an empty seat coming true during the pandemic. But today was different.
More and more Americans are getting comfortable with traveling again. All the airlines are posting increasing passenger counts. Every airport is releasing growing TSA numbers.
Today the flight was completely booked. And worse still, I was the one in the middle seat. Seat 35B. In a 36 row plane. A 5 hour 30 minute flight from San Francisco to Philadelphia.
I was running a little late. I was late to the gate after changing my mind and grabbing that sandwich that I thought I wasn’t gonna need. I was one of the last ones to get on the flight.
As I walked towards my row after boarding the plane, I saw the other two people sitting there. I could see the hope in their eyes. I could see the dreams of the empty middle seat still alive in their souls.
And then, I walk up to them and uttered the words that eliminated their hopes, “that’s my spot.”
They were crushed.
I know first hand the hope for the chance of having an empty middle seat. And I was the one to deliver their dreams in broken pieces.
I’m 5’8, 160 pounds. So I am not the best person middle seat occupant. But also not the worst.
After I take my seat, I ask the guy to my right, “How’s it going?” And he sarcastically responds with, “Oh you know, just peachy!”
I appreciate the optimistic nature of the human race. We’re looking for small wins everywhere. Today my friends on row 35 didn’t get their wins. But I know there will be more empty middle seats to come.