Everyone is entitled to the seat they paid for; nothing more, nothing less. Photo / 123rf
OPINION
A standard economy seat doesn’t technically shrink over the course of a long-haul flight but it certainly feels like it does.
Especially when the man beside you thinks it’s OK to let his knees/elbow/shoulder stretch past the invisible dividing line between seats and steal what little space you have.
When I fly from Casablanca to Doha, my standard economy seat is 43 centimetres wide, 78 centimetres deep and about 80 centimetres high. For $800 and for eight hours, it’s all the room I have.
Fortunately, I’m a relatively short, small person. I don’t physically take up all this space but it is mine nonetheless.
Unfortunately, the man beside me thinks otherwise, instead viewing any unused space as an invitation to stretch his suited knees wide, into my footwell, before takeoff. Within 10 minutes, I’m deeply irritated and slightly envious of how self-assured my seatmate must be to so confidently take up another person’s space.
“But some people are long-limbed!” you might protest and, yes, they are but, let’s be honest, of all the passengers who take a generous approach to “sit back and relax”, few of them really need 45cm to accommodate their legs, chests or other body parts.
“They could have a disability,” you might add. As someone who regularly travels with a disabled person, I’m aware of how some people find it harder to control their limbs. But, if anything, I typically find these travellers more considerate of the space they take up or will verbalise it to their seatmate if it becomes an issue.
Coming in at around the same height as me and fully able to navigate the aircraft and toss carry-on bags around, my overly friendly seat partner’s excuses are dwindling.
See, if there was a reason, I’d likely be accommodating if they said something, instead of slowly creeping across, awkwardly knocking knees, pulling away, then tilting back over again.
It’s also rarely an issue I’ve experienced with long-limbed women, who seem able to keep their legs and elbows to themselves. Unsurprisingly, dozens of studies into the phenomenon of “manspreading” claim physiological differences, from hip socket depth to size of genitals, mean it’s slightly more comfortable for a man to spread his legs.
But in an economy seat, I’m not exactly resting on a cloud of comfort either. The difference is I know that comfort is a privilege I must pay for, whether that looks like buying an aisle seat, front row seat or higher cabin class.
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Annoyed as I am, verbal confrontation with a stranger is off the cards, so I spend the first hour using the universal language of “accidental” nudges and pointed stares, hoping he puts two and two (his legs) together. For a while, it works but after dinner he’s fast asleep, limbs loosening back towards me.
In the grand scheme of travel annoyances, a few centimetres of encroachment aren’t major. Yet, I would argue that, when it comes to seatmates, a slight shouldering or subtle knee-knocking is almost worse than an exaggerated spread; at least with the latter, you’re justified in saying something or flagging over a flight attendant to help.
The matter of a few centimetres, however, is enough to needle you over several hours but not quite enough to kick up a fuss.
As much as people love to argue about whether manspreading is OK on planes, I have to agree with American etiquette expert Jacqueline Whitmore.
“The seats may be getting smaller by the day, but that doesn’t give you the right to spill over into someone else’s space,” she told Fox News Digital. “Unless, of course, you know that person well.”