Friends, flyers, mid-seat-dwellers, the time has come.
For too long, we have borne the brunt of aerial oppression, and that ends today. Those perched by window or aisle scoff when they hear us politely ask to be allowed into our middle-placed prisons, never considering that someone has to take the middle seat.
Why such an abomination of a seated space was created, I will never know, but alas it exists, and someone must occupy it more often than not.
Middle-seaters are basically financial planners
Just because we booked 2 weeks before we decided we had to go to that networking conference in Indiana does not mean that we deserve central confinement. But we take it on the chin as a fatal flaw in third-party/ bargain booking strategies.
All this to say, you are not better than we who stoically bear the oppressive seat of the middle; just because you can take an artsy shot of the wing during take-off, or can go to the bathroom whenever you want without inconveniencing someone who is finally playing a winning hand at solitaire, doesn’t mean that you’re somehow superior to those of us trapped in our central cages.
If anything, you have that seat because of our sacrifice.
We are noble.
We are brave.
We are the middle.
But I must ask on behalf of all middle dwellers, does the center mean we are without arms? Does it mean we are doomed to the whims, fancies, and bladders of those who surround us?
NO!
My fellow in-between brethren, it is time.
No longer feel the need to fold in upon yourself like your mom’s inedible souffle. Take back that arm-rest real estate, and in doing so, take back your life.
Sleep if you so choose, the person at the window can deal. Maybe you shouldn’t have chugged 2 cokes for a 1.5 hour flight, 32C, you ever think of that? Now you can stumble over me in a manner reminiscent of a far-sighted baby who just learned to crawl, because I am sleeping. Peacefully, now that my elbows are outstretched and perched comfortably.
I feel like a jig- window dweller, play a jaunty tune
When the time comes for me to visit the lavatory, I expect to do no such up-and-over dance, as my biting of the middle bullet has earned me the right to move about the cabin freely (seat-belt signage notwithstanding) with dignity.
In fact, I feel like a turn about the aisle. Arise, aisle woman, I care not that you boarded with a booted foot.
We middlemen and women also reserve the right to put all baggage up in the bin, because, again, we took one for the team here. And if I need to get up 4 different times to procure various sundries and necessities from said baggage, you will deal.
Yes, you will deal.
Because the middle is where life begins. The middle is a gift, one that keeps on giving.
The Middle Ages gave us the printing press, the wheelbarrow, and the idea that an animal could be put on trial for murder.
This entire issue is simply an un-porcine-ate misunderstanding
The Midwest gave us the word “ope”, Tater Tot Hotdishes, and high cholesterol.
What societal gems will we, the Aerial Middlemen (and women, also TM will be making t-shirts soon) bring to society? Time will tell. I have a family reunion in Boca next month so…stay tuned.