46K is not a good seat

In the morning I was on a boogie board at Seal Beach riding waves. In the evening I was at LAX waiting for a plane. I preferred the beach.

James and I had taken Jordan and his friend Bray down to the ocean, and the four of us bobbed about in the surf together. At the crest of each wave I yelled "wooooooo!" as I shot towards the beach. We stayed in a long time, James and I outlasting the boys.

We ate lunch at Ruby's, a 50s retro diner at the end of the Seal Beach Pier. The waitresses wore short, candy-striped dresses but their athletic shoes were not period accurate. A few minutes after bringing our food, our waitress returned and said, "How's everyhting? Delicious, right?" Which I thought a bit pushy. And actually, no, my grilled cheese was mediocre.

James dropped me off at the airport at nine. Eventually I reached the departure gate at the end of a long and white and worn hall. The horrible lighting, the ugly terminal, and the time of night combined to make me feel gloomy and depressed. I hoped once I got on the plane my mood would improve and I could settle in and get some sleep. But not so fast.

I had booked a window seat but was assigned a middle when I checked in. The ticket agent did switch me to a window, but with such bad grace that I wondered if he knew just what he was giving me--the worst seat on the massive plane.

First, there was no window, just a bulkhead; second, the seat was by the emergency door, which could've been good but wasn't because the bulge of the huge door prevented the sitter from extending his, that is, my legs; third, the seat was right beside the bathrooms, which were in constant use even before take-off, the folding doors opening and closing repeatedly (greatly affecting air quality), while the people waiting a turn milled about and knocked against one's legs. I bleakly contemplated the next sixteen hours . . . then I asked a flight attendant, please, help.

She scouted around, listened to a couple other requests for switching, and came back to suggest I try for seat 40A. "But you must wait till after take-off," she said, "and after the seatbelt sign goes off. Then you can see if you can get there before anyone else." And that's what I did. When I got there the seat had just been vacated by a young woman moving to another by her friend. The sixtyish couple who occupied the row were already making themselves at home with the extra space when I arrived, but they made room for me without too great a show of disappointment. "The flight attendant told me to sit here," I said. Not really, but the appeal to authority displaces blame.

My new seat was certainly an improvement but it had its challenges too. The man and woman in my row were both quite large, and the woman, who sat next to me, spilled over into my seat more than a little. Her thigh pressed solidly against the length of mine, and I registered each shift and movement she made, and she shifted and moved seemingly without cease. I suggested putting down the armrest between us--it was in the up position--but her alarmed and defiant expression told me that this would not happen. "It's more comfortable with it up," she said. I didn't argue but thought, "more comfortable for who?"

We were fed "supper" immediately, though it was midnight. The salmon was pretty bad. Then we were given a bag with a bottle of water and candy, apparently to get us through the long long night.

Flying west, we remained on the shadowed side of the earth; the sky was dark for the entire flight, up till just before we landed at sunrise in Brisbane. A couple hours before arriving, the cabin lights had come on and breakfast was served. When the passenger in front of him put her seat back, the large man in my row cried out, "I'm eating!" But the offender wore headphones and did not hear him. He had to reach almost straight down to get at his food; with his elbows pinned at his sides, he awkwardly levered spoonfuls of eggs up towards his mouth.

For much of the flight I had slept in five minute increments, divided by episodes of disorientation and discomfort. I did not have a watch and could not discern the passage of the interminable hours. I think on long flights drugs are in order, but I hadn't planned ahead.