I counted them up not too long ago. I’ve been on more than 200 different airplanes in my life, and to this day I can’t decide which seat I prefer.
The window seat is awesome for one reason. You get to see the world from 30,000 feet up. I’ve seen some pretty fantastic things from my window seat. I’ve also seen some not so awesome things. Like my neighbor’s flapping jowls in my face as he leans over and tries to get his glimpse of whatever I get to see. There’s nothing better than old man smell mixed with Old Spice hitting me from two inches in front of my schnoz.
First of all, I paid my dues to get that view. Every time I needed to walk the forming blood clots out of my legs, or had to tinkle, or just had to get away from the Old Man Spice for a minute, I had to awkwardly ask not just one but two people to unplug their headphones, turn off their movies, stow their stuff, get unbuckled, and let me out. And believe me, it’s way worse to be the guy asking others to move than to be the one moving, so why should Old Man Spice who doesn’t have it so bad be entitled to take my view from me? Seriously. People in middle seats don’t seem to care about other people’s bubbles.
But maybe I should cut him some slack. I mean, the middle seat is definitely my least favorite of all the seats. And by least favorite, I mean that I hate it with all the passion of my soul. The only pro is that you can kind of see what’s out the window and you feel a little less horrible because only one person has to move for you when you’ve gotta get out. The cons, though? They’re endless in that middle seat.
You still have to inconvenience whoever’s sitting on the aisle any time you want out. You still have to put your face right in window-guy’s face if you want to see the occasional landmark that everyone starts oooohing and aaaahing about. You have food and trash constantly being passed over you. You have nowhere to lean your head and sleep but back. And, there ain’t a drop of privacy as peeping eyes can see what you’re doing from both sides. Whoever’s sitting next to you gets to see every sad song you load on your playlist, every movie you choose to watch, and everything you type on your laptop. The middle seat is proof that God holds grudges against people.
And then there’s the aisle seat. I have a serious love-hate relationship with the aisle. The pros are HUGE. You can get up whenever you want. If your legs need a stretch, stand right up! If you want to go flirt with the girl three rows up, stand right up! If you want to get something out of your carry-on, stand right up! If you want to just stand up to show off your stand up ability to the sad schmos next to you, just stand right up (just be sure to sit down quick before they think your showing off is an invitation for them to also get up).
But the huge pro of getting out of your seat anytime you like is seriously counter-balanced by three things. One, you never get to see anything outside of the plane. Two, you get nailed by the larger waddlers every time they pass by. And three, you have to get up every freaking time any of the other schmos need you to. Oh, and four, you get the occasional crop dusting from bathroom-bound passengers. That’s always fun.
I don’t know. Crop dusting aside, I think I prefer the aisle seat. Most of the time, but I’m never quite sure.
Sometimes, as is evidenced by the potency, whoever crop dusts obviously should have gone to the bathroom an hour before. They were probably stuck in a window seat, feeling horrible about asking the tech-geek on the aisle to stow his laptop, phone, headphones, video player, book, and tablet just so they can answer nature.
Ironic thing is, it’s not the aisle guy who suffers. It’s the people four to twelve rows back who become victims to window-guy’s hour-long intestinal battle of consideration.
Dan Pearce, Single Dad Laughing
PS. Which seat do you prefer, and why?