Positioned in an awkward, contorted physical arrangement that would make Mr. Fantastic cramp up, I cracked open my laptop – with the screen positioned at the maximum 45 degrees possible in the tight space – and began catching up with “Breaking Bad.” Over the course of 58 minutes, there were two very active, but under the covers, “motion of the ocean” sexual activities and enough shots of actor Bryan Cranston’s butt to last me several miserable lifetimes. And I just didn’t care who else had to see it.
Nothing in the “Breaking Bad” episode went beyond a PG-13 rating and my seatmates were both adults. And for a moment I even felt a little embarrassed, and had I any space to twist the screen away, I may have. But in the middle seat? Not so much.
The middle seat on a long flight is purgatory bordering on hell. The most diminutive person is a behemoth in the middle seat and comfort is an alien concept. Even with quiet, affable seatmates flanking each side, every movement is a challenge and elbows are thrown.
The middle seat is many things. In addition to being a boon to the chiropractic industry, it’s an extreme exercise in optimism since it makes you hate life, but also motivates you to consider the bright side that the plane remains in the air. What the middle seat is not is private - and as much as passengers try, the flying sardine can with recycled airflow offers no expectation of privacy.
When flying, entertaining oneself and distracting the mind is a survival tactic of endurance, so how much should surrounding passengers affect our onboard pop culture consumption? I say not much.
Aside from the fact that when you’re traveling and watching a movie, you may not know what to expect (until someone launches a Flying Friendly Flicks Web site that details which movies are airplane safe – or when to fast forward while on the plane).
I still keenly remember watching “The Cooler” on another flight that when Maria Bello got unexpectedly naked - followed up by William H. Macy in an interminable full-frontal shot – I scrambled like a caught teenager watching late night Cinemax (or even the old USA Network “Up All Night”) to turn off the video. But I doubt the little blue-haired lady sitting next to me would have even noticed – much – as long as I didn’t try to yack her ear off or take up more than my allowable amount of armrest space.
Nearly anything that occupies passengers and makes a flight go by faster is fair game. Certainly there are limits. It always amuses me that newsstands in terminals sell hardcore nudie mags since I’m fairly certain only the most pathological pervert would be browsing the material on a plane. Additionally, something along the lines of “Saw” (or even “Sex and the City 2”) is too tasteless for public consumption. But the allowable limits should be broad especially if it means traveling on a quiet flight where everyone slips into a personal world.
But successful traveling really requires a high functioning ability to tune out the rest of the world. Winking other humans out of existence makes the process somewhat smoother when at security checkpoints or in baggage claim madness. Once on the plane, when cramped into confined spaces small enough to draw the attention of the ASPCA, slipping into a solitary mental headspace where no other people exist is essential.
So next time the guy sitting next to fires up a video that happens to feature the saggy white posterior of an incredibly gifted actor, just close your eyes and pretend you’re the only sardine in the can.
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