I want my two dollars!

So there I was…sitting in the window seat in aisle 27 of a full flight, duration 3 and a half hours. There was a woman in the aisle seat reading a book, but no one had taken the middle seat yet. It was just a matter of time. As the plane starts to fill a man comes lumbering down the aisle and says loudly, “I bet you thought you had it made.” Referencing the empty middle seat. In his hands he carries a personal pizza in a box, a bag of Doritos and a 24 oz soda in a Styrofoam cup. He sits down between us and fumbles until he can get all his food onto his tiny tray. He starts to eat the chips. Crunch…chew...chew, Crunch…chew…chew. And it all smells of nacho cheese. He starts to scarf down his pizza, as the plane is almost full and we are nearing time for push-off. Now, plus the food and the smells his legs are too long so they splay out in a “V” and one knee goes into my space and one knee goes into the girl on the aisle’s space.

Just then a petite, young blonde woman walks down the aisle and looks confusedly at the man in the middle seat. She is supposed to be sitting there. He is supposed to be in the middle seat on the other side of the aisle. But, seeing as how he has an entire dinner spread precariously balanced on the tiny tray she says it doesn’t matter and she will just sit in the middle seat across the aisle that is supposed to belong to him. Curses!!

Then middle seat man makes a call on his phone. He calls none other than his bookie. He places a two-dollar bet. Yes. Two dollars. Then he calls his friend to coordinate bets with him. I think they thought they had a system going. Then he promptly tries to check the scores on his phone as the flight attendant comes down the aisle to ensure everyone has stopped using their phones. She has to tell him to stop….he keeps going…says he’s almost done. Has…to…check…one…more…score!

I spend the next three and a half hours with his knee in my space. It’s highly uncomfortable. When we land in Portland the first thing he does is turn on his phone and check the scores. He shakes his head. I think he lost two dollars. He tries to call a friend, or maybe his bookie, no answer. Then he calls his wife and apologizes that he wasn’t able to call in Houston. He had to run from one gate to the next plane and there just wasn’t time (After he stopped for pizza, chips, placed a bet, called his friend and checked the scores). I fear one day that I will rank in someone’s life below friends, gambling and pizza.