Zen And The Art of Space Maintenance on an Airplane
How to keep from letting that leaned-back seat make you miserable.
There are two kinds of people on a flight: those who push their seat as far back as it will go and those who don’t. The former make an already mostly uncomfortable experience almost excruciating for anyone who’s not the size of an Oompa-Loompa.
Do I feel virtuous because I’m a “never-lean-backer?”
Yes. Yes I do. It’s my small way of doing a random act of kindness for the person behind me. Especially on long flights.
There are plenty of people who feel entitled to what feels like ostentatious selfishness. They are the ones who lean their seat back from the second the plane leaves the runway until the flight attendant asks them twice to return their seat to the full and upright position.
Sure, some people have back pain and need to shift to keep from being in constant agony. I’m not talking about them. In my experience, people who have these reasons usually look back and tell you they’re going to recline their seat.
Unscientifically speaking, I’m talking about the 99% who do it because they can. Because it’s their right, they paid for it, dammit.
This is a little thing, I know. But it feels like an illustration of something bigger and uglier.
Our culture feels very much like being stuck behind a reclined airplane seat in economy class. A very vocal contingent of Americans wear T-shirts that tell me to “F-” my feelings. Another group feels that their inherited wealth is proof that they are better people than others, that somehow God picked them first for the dodgeball game of life. Still others demonstrate through refusing to pay their fair share for our infrastructure and human services that they have the values of a common pond leech.
Maybe I’m overreacting. I’m writing this on a flight, my laptop nearly wedged into my sternum because the person in front of me pushed their seat back to enjoy the luxurious three-ish inches.
I want to dangle my screen over her face and show her this:
But she seems too young to appreciate the Bette Davis GIF or understand the shade that I, a middle-aged woman am throwing at her, a younger woman in the spirit of the film from which this shot is taken.
I’m lucky that I’m short and that I’m used to writing in tight spaces. Not so lucky are the folks who are taller than me, who are trying to nurse a baby, or are otherwise attempting to do something other than simply sit in the seat for the duration of the flight.
Oh sure, I could bug her and ask her to unlean a bit, but that would rob me of my smallish bit of superiority, my squinched-up martyrdom. Besides, she’s got her head covered with a hoodie as a sleep aid.
The only thing for this is to do a hard re-set on my attitude.
As it is, I am happy enough to get a piece of writing out of her selfishness. Truthfully, this isn’t about me or her. It’s about a system that encourages the airlines to squeeze every last cent of profit they can from us. Shame on the airlines for treating people like cattle.
It’s also an extended meditative practice for me in allowing myself to feel discomfort, to send her lovingkindness because I have no idea what she’s going through. From here, it’s my responsibility to tolerate brief periods of discomfort to allow others a brief period of comfort.
I can use this to take a wider view. To recall the small gifts I’m given, like that fact that a very nice man on the aisle lifted my super heavy carry-on for me and put it in the overhead bin. The gate agent smiled at me in Dallas and called me “honey.”
The annoyance in me has melted; the irritation is gone. Can writing, can mediation, can deliberately cultivating kindness help with our current culture? I know they can’t hurt. And I know that science shows that if you smile at someone, they smile back; smiling at someone makes you feel more positively about them.
If nothing else, smiling can trick your brain into feeling happier which in turn makes you healthier. To me, that sounds like a bargain.
