Cabin Fever

Don’t worry — this won’t be a long post.  In fact, I’m going to throw this out to the nearly dozen of you who read this to provide me your theory.

I had two flights today.  The first leg was from Birmingham to Detroit, and the second from Detroit to DC.  (Yes, I am aware of the inherent humor in that, but someone saved a few dollars.)

The first flight was in a cramped little jet where we had to squeeze in tight.  Four seats per row, two to a side, and not quite enough room for you to stand completely up, even if you were craning your head down.  The man next to me had to put up with me getting up to use the restroom, and the fact that two grown men just don’t like touching elbows for two hours at a time.

The second flight was a comparative dream.  Three seats per side, and a plane that was less than 20% full.  I was over by the window, and there was an empty between me and the businesswoman on the aisle.

Everytime I fiddled with anything, whether it was getting my .mp3 player or popping an Altoid Sour, you’d have thought I was saluting the Nazi flag or something.  And when I pulled up my laptop bag and momentarily placed it on the seat between us, she shot me a glance that could stop a bull elephant at 100 yards.

I know she was acting weird before, but she was downright territorial about that empty space.  It’s not like I slid into the chair next door and started groping her.  My breath wasn’t bad (I checked later.)  Could her sudden desire to repel me back to my rightful turf been a function of the extra space?  Are we more accomodating for others when elbow room is scarce?

This isn’t the first time I’ve noticed this phenomenon, but it was so pronounced tonight I had to write about it.

Your thoughts?

[tags]Ike Pigott, Occam’s RazR, Air Travel, Psychology[/tags]