I flew home from the Carolinas last night. Long gone are the days of vacant seats and half-empty flights. The airlines have disposed of much of the fleet of winged aluminum tubes. Less capacity equals full planes equals more revenue. I don't like it on a personal basis, but I understand the business side.
I boarded when my zone was called and perched in my aisle seat waiting on my seatmate to arrive and occupy the window seat next to me. I played the game every frequent flier plays -- "Please not next to me".
A big woman/girl waddled down the aisle. I avoided her eyes in the hope fate was not looking for a willing victim. No such luck, she she pointed at seat 20 E. All estimated 400 pounds of her.
She had to put up the armrest to fit into her seat, and her thighs and fat rolls spread onto my tiny space. This chick did not sport a muffin top, it was a whole bakery. Her girth was such the tray table could not be lowered. I kid you not. I am not a small man, but her thighs each would make two of mine. To her credit she snuggled up to the window as much as possible, but her fat rolls still extended onto my seat by a good four inches.*
Here is the rub, I hate to be touched. I tolerate it from friends and family, but strangers rubbing against me gives me the sqeemies. I endured the entire flight -- 1-1/2 hours-- with this young lady's body snuggled next to me. Her thighs were against mine, her hips against mine. I scooted as far to the aisle as possible but her fat oozed onto my seat like unmolded jello. It took every bit of self-control not to jump into the aisle and scream "Get off of me!". Even relating the tale sends shivers of revulsion through me.
The next time you think I have a fun job, traveling around, staying in hotels often and flying the friendly skies; you should reflect on this story.
* Sadly, for once I am not exaggerating or using hyperbole to spice up a tale. This was a big girl. She seemed self-conscious and a little regretful to be usurping my limited space. She just had nowhere to put her mass.