Flying off on a mini-vacay to spend some time with my old man. Got the middle seat for the four hour leg of my travel. Best part? Hmm, perhaps it was that there was no room in the overhead bins (with all the baggage fees, I think every single flyer is avoiding checking in bags)—requiring me to check my carry-on as I was boarding and left me stuck with my coat. Yup, totally 'pitted it for four hours. And then got to wait for my carry-on at the baggage carousel.
No wait, perhaps the best part was that both Mr. Aisle and Ms. Window took up both armrests, leaving me with none. As if it doesn't suck enough being in the middle seat. Can I at least get an armrest, you inglourious basterds? Actually I think the topper was that Mr. Aisle was listening to some sort of electronic jazz that couldn't be contained by his lame earbuds. Not to knock that genre, but to listen to the tinny residue that comes from weak earphones is pretty darn miserable. It was enough for me to wish I had the biggest tunafish sandwich to eat.
Oh, to dream when you're in the middle seat.
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