Picture yourself on a small, commuter plane, two seats to the left and an aisle, one seat to your right. Your luggage was tagged before entering the plane, because it couldn't possibly fit in the overhead bins.
This was the scene ... a United flight I was on last week, returning from a client visit back East.
I know it is a blessing to be able to fly.
Except when I am seated next to this guy.
Sure, I know these seats are really, really small.
'Specially since I'm six foot, three inches tall.
But your left leg has been touching me for an hour.
In our partnership, you have all the power.
I put my tray table down, to reclaim my space.
Surely a flight attendant supports my case!
The middle arm rest is real estate you acquired.
Not to be shared, that's not how you are wired.
Your elbow uncomfortably nudges my ribs.
I know, on the arm rest, I should have called dibs.
Honestly, I'd like to relax and take a nap.
Dream lovely thoughts of calling this flight a wrap.
But your legal document rests on my right arm.
You're a lawyer. I'll sit tight. No harm.
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