Japan Stories, Episode 1: Seat Equality

I boarded my flight to Tokyo and walked to the back of the plane, looking for 39A, the seat I had staked out on the plane map while booking my ticket. Several reasons surrounded my choice of this seat. 1) its a window seat 2) it’s close to the toilet, which some people view as revolting but I find it convenient 3) from the map, it looked like there was more room between the window and the seat than in the rows closer to the front of the plane. A diminutive woman in a red coat was in my seat. I thought I’d have to calmly and pleasantly explain to her that I had booked the seat, proffering my boarding card. Her travelling companion greeted me. “Hi, are you in 39A? So are we. Delta made a mistake....” “No,” I interrupted, “No, they didn’t. I booked this seat several weeks ago.” I knew when I booked the seat that the plane was filling up, yet the seat next to me was still available. Other window seats were open at the time of my booking, but sometimes luck strikes and you have a row to yourself. Today was unlucky. “Oh,” the man persisted, “it’s also our honeymoon and we’d like to sit together. Her seat is an aisle seat a few rows up.” “No,” I repeated, as if clarifying a concept for a child, “Find me a window seat and I’ll consider it.” I moved past them and into my long awaited seat. “Sorry,” I offered, and then immediately regretted it. Why should I have to apologize? He was off to escort his wife to her seat, and I realized I would have to endure his presence for the next 12 hours. He returned and immediately donned his eye mask, pulled the blanket up to his chin, and fell asleep. I hoped I wouldn’t need the toilet anytime soon. As I organized myself and grabbed a magazine to leaf through before takeoff, I recalled several instances of intrusions into my carefully selected long haul flight seats. 

On my 2016 return trip from Dubai, the Nigerian couple in the middle and aisle seats were nice enough, until she draped her feet across her husband to relieve the ankle pressure caused by her pregnancy. The husband turned to me, motioning to the empty, dreaded middle seat in the row in front of us. “Move there?” “No, I like this seat,” I replied, after careful consideration for the pregnant woman’s discomfort. He continued to motion, so I reluctantly put away my book and pretended to sleep the remainder of the flight. 

My favorite story occurred many years ago on a flight from Amsterdam to LAX. The flight attendant asked if I would move to a middle seat so a family could sit together. I gave my typical response, “No, I booked this seat a long time ago.” I made a comment to my neighbor about people booking their seats ahead of time, and he, unfortunately, turned out to be the displaced father of the family. As we were disembarking after an awkward flight, a woman approached me and said, “I really admired the way you defended your seat back there. They think they can move you around, but you have to stand up for yourself.” I’m grateful to that woman for easing my guilty conscience. 

Today’s incident reinforces the stigma solo female travelers still carry. People think it’s acceptable to move the solo female around the plane, as if her travel plans were spontaneous and flippant. Even more susceptible to stigma is the assumption that the solo female will acquiesce, not wanting to cause a scene and remaining “nice.” If a man defends his seat, with or without a smile, nothing is thought of it. If a woman dares to defend her seat, she’s labeled a bitch. So go ahead, call me a bitch. I’m enjoying the last hour of my flight to Tokyo from the comfort of 39A, legs stretched out under the seat in front of me.