It's been a while since my last posting and in that time a lot has happened. I turned 30, Michael Jackson has died, and the garbage strike in Toronto is now in its 4th week. But, the show must go on and I feel compelled to write about the universal irritants of international travel.
A few weeks ago, I prepared to board an Air Canada flight from Toronto to Casablanca. Having arrived at the airport a tad early I was relaxed and was dreamily perusing the bookstore with a Timmy Ho's in hand. Snapped out of my daze by an announcement, I noticed a congregation of people standing around a departure gate – similar to a congealed mass of overcooked perogies. In no particular order, travelers stood impatiently trying to inch forward to the gate...which was not open yet. Reminiscent of CBC documentaries showcasing the line-ups during a little known African country's first democratic vote, passengers looked insistent on moving forward which such determination in their eyes that I figured it was time for me to join the line.
Upon joining the line-up, I was bumped, pushed, shoved, and nudged in all direction. After navigating this lesser known version of the "mosh pit" there was the next hurdle of getting to my window seat in one piece. Bouncing down the aisle like a ping pong ball I felt a surge of relief when I saw my row. A mother and daughter duo sat in the other two seats occupying the row.
They looked at me. I looked at them.
Polite smile from the mother. Roll of the eyes from the daughter. "Sorry, could I...that's my seat".
A production fit for a Broadway musical is what then transpired. It was if I had asked a homeless person to move out of tent city with all of their million belongings. No word of a lie, it took me 5 minutes to get my arse remotely near the seat.
Ah....awesome. Finally seated, I was excited for take-off so that I could dive into my book or watch some Curb Your Enthusiasm. The daughter (for the sake of argument, let's call her "Dungeon Child") turned on her iPod which I could hear over the roaring jet engines. A series of punk music played irritatingly out of her earphones but even worse was her boney elbow which was hogging the entire arm rest.
Dungeon Child had her legs splayed open so that they were intruding on my foot space, elbow in my ribs, her music pounding in my right ear – and then she started to cough Swine Flu style. Totally gross and time to take action.
I tried to politely position my elbow on the arm rest but Dungeon Child was having none of it. There wasn't a 50-50 arm rest split happening and I couldn't stake out even a tiny patch. And so I waited, with a plan of action, for Dungeon Child to fall asleep. Once her head started to haphazardly swaying from side to side I knew she was asleep and probably dreaming of a proper snuggle with Marilyn Manson. I knocked her arm right off the arm rest – POW! Her neck snapped in to an upright position, eyes blinked open, and a stunned look crossed her face. Of course, I pretended nothing unusual was going on and focused intently on my TV screen. Problem solved.
The arm rest issue doesn't seem to be exclusive to air travel. Here are a few more places I've noticed a struggle to maintain a civilized 50-50 arm rest split.
- TTC
- Movie theatre
- Doctor's office
Can you think of any others?
I would also like to know what your ARE (arm rest equality) strategies are.
1 comment:
Well, I read an interview with R.E.M. once. (I don't like them but this anecdote was awesome.) When they were poor and struggling, they could only afford economy class. So Michael Stipe would not wash, shave, or change his clothes for 2 or 3 days before the flight. Then, right before boarding, he would eat a chocolate ice-cream and deliberately let it melt over his face and not clean it off. Then he'd take his seat and start twitching. All this guaranteed that nobody wanted to sit next to him. I'm not sure how often he actually had a row to himself but it's time for you to collect some empirical evidence, Heather!
My personal A.R.E. techniques are:
1) just touching their elbow... just a little bit, and acting like nothing's happening, as you read etc.
2) sit with your leg resting just against theirs.
It doesn't always work as there are some inconsiderate people out there (not me - I consider carefully how I can get their pointy elbows the fk out of my personal space).
A friend of mine on a plane had a guy jiggling his leg next to him and stopped him doing it with this elegant technique: He just said to him "could you stop doing that - it's really annoying".
In London there are a lot of men who sit with their legs wide open and their elbows on both armrests - usually they are reading the paper. I really do want to say to them "close your legs, honey - it ain't that big".
I saw a funny TV show last night (The Life and Times of Tim?) - one of his coworkers described him as a 'hot cup of a**hole'. I am going to use that one... a lot.
I also hate airports, the herd mentality and I HATE HATE HATE the 'earbuds' that come with iPods - leakiest earphones known to man.
But I love Curb Your Enthusiasm on the airplane TV. Love you, too, Hez!!! x
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