Wrong Seat
As the last passengers found their seats and the aircraft door closed, I found the seats on either side of me empty. There was another man at the other end of this four-seat row, but he didn’t matter: I was free. Today, I was one human with the capacity of three. I pulled my e-reader out and settled in for the sixteen hour flight between Taipei and New York City. This was when a man from across the aisle waved his hand to get my attention.
“The airline separated me and my wife. Can we switch seats so I can be with her?”
Without even considering his or his wife’s rows, I found myself pleasantly accepting his request. As I looked at his row, I was relieved that he had an aisle seat, but his neighbor’s bag was spilling into his space. The neighbor had also plugged a long white charging cable into the USB outlet of the aisle seat’s screen instead of his own, and it sat draped over their knees. My subconscious had jumped right over these qualities and into the warm pool of moral good: of course I’ll swap with you! I’m a good person, and good people make easy accommodations for others, particularly for combined needs. The joy of a married couple is worth more than my individual comfort; please, stick the gold star on the center of my forehead.
The man smiled widely, and we agreed to switch once the plane reached cruising altitude. It was in this liminal time that I truly appreciated what I had: the ability to put my bag under an adjacent seat, and open space for my elbows & legs. Additionally, for a sixteen hour flight, to avoid the need to stand so others could go to the restroom is a significant victory. Regret began to build.
I couldn’t believe I hadn’t even considered the request. The man’s question hijacked my mind as smoothly as a pilot opening the cockpit door after a knock. You may think this is altogether a trivial matter — the request, my response, and the outcome — but let me share what I observed next.
While the two of us waited for the “Fasten Seatbelt Sign” to disappear, I looked down a couple rows to his wife, who I had seen him talking to. Her row looked like this:
Passenger /-/ Empty Seat /-/ Wife /-/ Passenger
If he only wanted to sit next to his wife, he didn’t need to switch seats with me at all! My fellow passenger had rolled his Trojan Horse to the gates, and my misguided attempt at being a decent human had only let those carnal warriors inside seize my land. Clearly, he didn’t want to sit in a middle seat in order to be with his wife, and coveted my fortuitous comfort. This man should have mustered an ounce of candor and actually asked, “Hey, you have a better seat than me. Can we switch?” Instead, he artfully coated his request so I would not taste the bitter pill.
In public settings, where the lines of possession and ownership blur, the protocol of request & negotiation is largely undefined. Whether it’s sharing gym equipment, cutting the airport security line, or filming a public bench: how and what we ask for matters. Once you examine the assumptions and motives beneath such requests, you might realize these interactions are not what they seem — and that current protocols, like a seat that turns out to be uncomfortable, may need to be repositioned or replaced altogether.