8.21.25: The Middle Seat

I don’t think the world gives enough credit to the psychological warfare that comes from being stuck in the middle seat on a plane. One armrest? Both? None? You try to time your movements so you don’t elbow your neighbor during their sip of tomato juice. You scan the screen six inches from your face while trying to avoid eye contact with both people beside you. You become a neck gymnast, headphone contortionist, and emotional hostage. By the end, you don’t want to land — you want a medal. Or at least a seat voucher for the aisle next time.