The (Completely) True Adventures of 17B

Seat 17B was located somewhere between tragedy and the valley of death. Continue walking until you see human dignity. Then keep going. Take a left.

A person could sit there, technically. A human body would fit. The promotional airline posters confirmed such, featuring a perfect smiling family who looked like they were on a Disney cruise. Even the baby was smiling. Correction: an average human of average size and height. She had been told on multiple occasions that she fitted this definition.

She had learned valuable lessons over her many miles of air travel.

First, the middle seat was not so much a place as an idea.

Second, never talk to the passengers next to you.

They might be on the same plane, but they are not on the same journey. To cross that line could be a fatal and cataclysmic mistake. One polite greeting or salutation or comment to the general air was all it would take for the tidal wave to emerge. Sometimes it didn’t even need to be said directly to the other passengers. It might just be a complaint about the weather, turbulence, or flight delays.Once the wave began its deadly path, it could not be stopped until nothing remained, and with each following aftershock more came. Grandchildren. Their alma mater. The most recent cruise. The hip surgery that had them feeling like new. The one time their second cousin accidentally booked the wrong flight and ended up in Cairo, Illinois instead of Egypt.

Her plan had been simple and practically fool-proof. Unfortunately, her faithful charger of two years was not. It chose this morning of all mornings to fail in its one purpose in life. Her noise-cancelling earbuds were dead. The light turned on for approximately five seconds, flickered twice, and then died with a small fizzle.

The plane was droning at full volume, and they were still at the gate.

Third, an airplane is an impressive demonstration of Murphy’s Law.

A baby two or three rows down was wailing at the top of their lungs like it was auditioning for the Sydney Opera House. (See Murphy’s Law: Case Study One). A couple was beginning an argument across the aisle. She had barely leaned back when her seat jolted forward. A child. Wonderful. Suitcases slammed into overhead bins with the confidence that a three-foot plastic case would fit in a one-foot space.

If purgatory existed, it must look like 17B.

Her neighbors arrived just as she finally settled, shoved her backpack under the seat in front of her, and tucked her new book in the front seat’s pocket. 17C and 17A. Her fellow alphabetic citizens.

The person in 17C immediately claimed the left armrest like it was sovereign soil, or the planting of the American flag on the moon. The person in 17A played with the window, pulling the shade up and down.

The middle seat was supposed to receive both armrests. This must be etched somewhere in ancient airplane law—or some maritime one, if crossing an ocean—she thought. Like the Ten Commandments. These people had clearly never read the scriptures or were heathenistic nonbelievers.

17A pulled something out of the brown bag they carried. It was a medium-sized plastic container labeled in messy black Sharpie. Tuna. She could already smell it through the lid, like a phantom odor.

She looked up as the flight attendants began their demonstration of seatbelts, exits, and oxygen masks. The whole plane sat with rapt attention, as if this were the keynote at a conference or a homily at Mass. Passengers nodded along in complete agreement. One would think this was a brand-new trailer for the premier blockbuster. The child kicked the back of her seat again.

Finally, the plane departed from the gate and the ground. 17C set their arm more firmly into the neutral turf. 17A shook the plastic container up and down, before placing it on the tray. They popped the lid. The ancestral curse of the fish migrated into her nose, and slowly throughout the surrounding rows. The kid sneezed and the baby’s wail reached new limits.

She had glanced up to see if the seatbelt sign was finally off when she saw the red cap. Under it was a head of bright red curls. Of course her ex would be on the plane. He hadn’t noticed her. Yet. Perhaps 17B had some mercy left to give after all.

She turned another page of her book before giving up. 17A slowly took another bite of the tuna. They were either the world’s most patient or sadistic food critic. Every few minutes they swallowed and took another slow, long mouthful. Another wafting of tuna seeped throughout the plane. The couple opposite stopped arguing long enough to gag, then immediately continued.

The plane continued its flight. She continued staring at the red curls up ahead. The pilgrimage to the great lavatory began with reverence.

Eventually the kid stopped kicking. The baby must have fallen asleep too or was taking a break between performances. Somewhere over Cleveland, the couple broke up and then proceeded to stare at each other angrily. Then, finally, the last scrap of tuna. The lid popped back on, and it vanished back into the brown bag. She felt the plane give a collective sigh of relief. The red curls were still facing the front.

Fourth, upon landing, one must cheer for the successful accomplishment of one’s job.

When the plane inevitably landed on the runway, the people cheered and clapped. It was hard for her to say exactly what they were applauding for in that moment. The landing perhaps. It could also have been the ending of the couple and their misfortune. Perhaps, it was the tuna. Or maybe, it was the knowledge that they would soon be allowed to leave.

Her ex moved to collect his bag from the overhead. Of course it was even closer to her seat. He grabbed it, paused, and then kept walking.

Maybe he hadn’t spotted her. Maybe he had. Maybe he too knew that this was not the proper territory to rehash old wounds and unfinished conversations. Or maybe, just maybe, he thought that 17B had been punishment enough.

She collected her book and backpack and exited the plane. It was simple. She just had to follow the same map in reverse.

Behind her, 17B waited patiently for its next victim.