Crunch Time

It’s 12:52pm on Friday afternoon on the west coast and I am folded into seat 17A of Air Canada flight 755 from Toronto to San Francisco as we race across the sky at some 36,000 feet. There’s only about 90 minutes left to go so we’re probably over Idaho or Utah or something by now. In case you were wondering, seat 17A is not in the exit row.

I tried to talk them into accommodating me, but I guess the old tall, dark, and handsome mojo wasn’t working today. It hardly ever does. Sometimes the tall gets me over, but most of the folks at airline counters are about as sympathetic to my plight in an economy seat as Warden is to Andy Dufraine’s need for some classical music and a fluffy pillow in Shawshank Redemption. I was persistent today though. The first lady was very short with me, as she muttered something very curtly about “only center seats” through a heavy accent of some sort (maybe French), with body language that said “please leave me alone”. Glancing out the window at the rather narrow A319 that would be our bird on this fine afternoon, I knew that it would be a long 5 hours in a center seat. It’s bad enough in ANY seat back in coach, but a center is especially bad.

When another, much friendlier lady appeared behind the counter I stood back and observed her demeanor for a few minutes before approaching. I watched her smiling and even placing a hand on the shoulder of a little old man as she walked over to hand him his boarding pass. I had seen enough to know that it was worth walking back over there to see if she would be any more compassionate than the previous lady.
She also told me no, but with an infectious smile that was sorely missing from the other lady. She did however make an effort to take care of me, ultimately finding me the window seat here in 17A, with no one next to me. “There’s no one in 17B and I’ll make sure not to put anyone there,” she said, again with the big friendly smile. I smiled and thanked her and proceeded to board the plane.

So here I am turned sideways with the armrest pressing into my back, my left shoulder against the window and my right shoulder up against the seat tapping away at the keys of my laptop. I’m still not comfortable and especially not with the guys in front of me reclining their seats on me. However, twisted up like this, I can maneuver my arms to a position that will allow me to type off to the side. Anything for the pursuit of perfecting the craft. If you know a good chiropractor or masseuse, please let me know.