I HATE flying in the middle seat. HATE, HATE, HATE. So I was horrified when I discovered that the only remaining seat on the first leg of my trip to COS via IAH would be in a middle seat!
I’ll be completely honest here. My hatred for the middle seat is absolute snobbery. I think I’m better than being squeezed between two strangers in a pressurized flying aluminum tube. It’s an inconvenience to have to ask others to move when I have to go tinkle. With all the time I’ve spent in the air as a seasoned traveller, I somehow think I’m entitled to have my choice of seating, which is always an aisle seat.
So back to today. I was dreading the flight. First world problems, I know. As I approached my row, I began to get needlessly upset about the mere three hours during which I’d be subjected the MOST HORRIBLE THING EVAR. But to my surprise, when I did finally reach my row, the gentleman in the aisle seat asked me if it was ok to switch seats so he could sit next to his wife in the window seat.
What an unexpected gift. Thank you. Thank you.