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AMY LAUGHINGHOUSE

Fear and Loathing in the Sky

--and Why You Should Marry the Girl in the Middle Seat
I Personally, I would sell both my ovaries to avoid being stuck in the
have a confession to make. I don’t like to fly. I love going plac-
es. It’s just the getting there I’m not that fond of.
middle, sandwiched like the creamy, compact filling in an Oreo
cookie. You can’t lean against the window, checking the condition
That might seem like a strange admission for a travel writer—
but then again, maybe not. I mean, the more often you're re- of the engines and marveling at clouds that look like Jerry Garcia
quired to shoehorn yourself into a seat that wouldn’t comfortably or Carrot Top or penguins on pogo sticks. (Did I mention I take
full advantage of free booze offered on international flights?) Nor
accommodate a malnourished can you stretch your legs out in
hamster, the less likely you are the aisle, thereby incurring the
to look forward to it. If I actually wrath of whomever is piloting the
enjoyed crumpling my body into drinks cart. It’s very likely you will
a defeated wad of human origami, be denied even the small solace
I'd take yoga, and at least I'd have of an armrest, as the people who
the skull-cracking thighs and six- requested the aisle and window
pack abs to show for it.
seats are almost certainly far more
You’re not even awarded the selfish than you and have already
privilege of painful bodily con- claimed them with pointy-elbowed
tortion until you’ve already been defiance.
through the soul-sapping process This is based on my observation
of submitting to airport security. that only the nicest people end up
Shuffling sock-footed through the in the middle—a conclusion sup-
metal detector, grasping at your ported by a highly scientific survey
unbelted trousers to keep them of one. That is to say, I’ve only ever
from falling down around your met one girl who actually likes the middle seat, because she says it
ankles, you still have to run the gauntlet of heaven-knows-where- makes her feel safe and cozy.
those-hands-have-been rubber-gloved officers who might randomly
pull you aside for a pat-down. Every time this happens, I’m tempted Miss Middle Seat is also among the sweetest people I know, which
to ask them to at least treat me to dinner and a movie first...but makes me wonder if perhaps this should be a standard question in
somehow, I doubt they would be amused. Match.com profiles. If you happen to spot someone with a prefer-
ence for the middle, don’t even wait to arrange a first date. Just
I think you can tell a lot about a person by where they like to sit on bang out an e-mail asking them to marry you and order the wed-
an airplane. The obvious answer, of course, is “at the front. In First ding invitations. They’ll probably be too concerned about hurting
Class.”
your feelings to turn you down.
But given the intolerable lack of a winning lottery ticket, you'll usu- Only once in my life have I boarded a plane and thought, “You know,
ally find me in cattle class, which can be just about bearable when I 14 hours just isn’t going to be long enough.” This was while flying
snag an aisle seat.
in business class on Singapore Airlines. The lay-flat “seat” was ap-
Why do I prefer the aisle? Because I have a very optimistic bladder. proximately the size of a football field. The alcohol flowed like an IV
That is to say, it’s always half-full, and I like to be able to make a drip, and the food was superb—although I was surprised that they
quick escape to the (tin can-sized) loo without having to give a lap served us chicken satay on wooden skewers. (One unexpected air
dance to the other folks in my row. (Although, come to think of it, pocket, and you’ll put your eye out).
there might be a few bucks to be made there).
I have no idea what blessed nirvana must await their first class
More unfortunately still, I seem to have some perverse Pavlovian passengers. Probably a 90-minute hot stone massage, caviar facial,
response to the "fasten seatbelt" sign. No sooner does that dreaded complimentary bag of gold and diamonds, and a lovely flight atten-
light go on than my bladder pings my brain, signaling that it would dant to read you a bedtime story, stroke your hair and sing you to
quite like to have a wee. RIGHT. NOW. This makes me very popular sleep as you wing your way to the Land of Nod.
with flight attendants, as you can imagine, who seem to regard me Hey, we can all dream. Until then, I’ll see you in the back, in line
jettisoning from my seat as a sign of civil disobedience--or worse, for the loo.
terrorism.

Other people prefer to be ensconced beside the window, of course- You can find Amy at WWW.AMYLAUGH-
-presumably so that they’ll be the first to spot an engine fire. Fair INGHOUSE.COM and on Twitter @A_
enough. But can we all agree that the middle seat is basically Dante’s LAUGHINGHOUSE.
seventh level of hell?

Wine Dine & Travel Spring 2014 83