When one guy takes up three seats because he can’t keep his legs together, it’s your duty to push back. If he’s obese, that’s one thing – he probably feels like a misfit, and he can’t get any smaller. But when he’s small or skinny, that’s different. One man, one seat.
That’s the rule. And you’re the enforcer.
On Thursday I put this belief to the test when sitting next to an elderly man at the opening of a play. The theater was filling up, and his left leg was splayed all over the last seat in the row. I asked if the seat was taken, sat down, put my leg up against his and kept it there in a polite but insistent way. There was a silent struggle for a minute or two until he withdrew to his own territory. He intruded a couple of times during the first act, but I stood my ground. After the intermission my wife and I moved to better seats when the folks in front of us left.
After the play I mentioned this epic struggle to my wife. And she said, “Did you notice that you were sitting next to Ian McKellen?” I looked up and there he was, coming out of the theater. Gandolf. Magneto. The new Number Two. I felt a chill. Even without his staff, he could have summoned lightning with a single thought. Thank God it wasn’t Saruman or Professor Xavier who was trying to take up two seats. I wouldn’t be here to write this.
Comments on this entry are closed.