Fatiquette Part 2: Seating

Theaters, airplanes, ground transportation, classroom settings... Attempts at improving comfort have been made on the ergonomic, material, and design fronts but so far the most basic and common sensical area remains a mystery to these engineering monkeys. Sheer size. In the context of Fat, bigger almost always means better. While it is true that 90% of the logistical problems in Fat seating arise due to shoddy engineering and architectural design, nearly all of these problems can be overcome with a little planning and foresight into the mutual respect that must be fostered between Fat and non-fat people.

Take your average classroom for example. If a 3rd grader cannot properly fit in a wooden desk that was handcarved during World War the First, what makes teachers or school administrators believe that a college student can, much less one of my stature? It is a proven fact that student comfort levels influence grades, and it is a school's responsibility to provide that proper learning environment (posture correction be damned). The classes I enjoyed the most, and received some of my highest marks in, were the ones that had large classrooms with a couple standalone chairs and tables in the back. My mind was free to contemplate the lecture topic of the day since the left side of my body was not completely numb. I've come to realize the confines of single seating defy reason regardless of size and stature.

Group seating is an entirely different beast, with it's own set of concerns.

I highly endorse Southwest airlines. Not only do they have cheap fares on more direct flights than you can shake a stick of butter at, but they have open seating with some of the roomiest cabins around. This means that if you have an A, B or sometimes even a C pass that is first to board, you are more than likely going to be able to snag that coveted aisle seat. You'll just have to shoot immediately to the back of the plane. Plow through any who stand in your way, be they women, children... or those arch nemesis beverage carts. On occasion you may luck out and spot an aisle seat next to a small child. SNAG THAT SEAT! This is the beacon of opportunity you've been hoping for, as pending a raised armrest, you will inevitably be able to spill over into the child's seat without causing any discomfort or invasion of space. However, some of my previous attempts to employ this tactic have been thwarted by inconsiderate parents. For some reason parents become retardedly overprotective when flying with their children, as if someone is going to kidnap them 30,000 feet in the air and disappear in a re-enactment of that terrible Jodie Foster movie. It should be a mandatory law that children must be placed in middle seats, and never next to another child. Say it's for safety purposes to prevent people from clogging the aisles. No one is safe when I get cranky due to my legs falling asleep. Hell, blame it on the war on terror... make something up so we don't waste space. You'd think that airlines would jump all over the chance to save space, right?

Case in point a recent full flight on Southwest from Phoenix to Nashville. I had boarded with my B pass, and was making a bee-line to the back of the plane. Seeing no available children I proceeded to plop down in one of the last remaining aisle seats, one row from the very back. A grown man was sitting next to the window, so I did my best to discourage any person of substance from taking the middle seat. I raised the armrest, placed my comic books in the seat next to me (I never travel wthout them), and willed my body to expand horizontally in an attempt to eliminate as much space as possible. Common depth perception usually deters most people from claiming what's left of my row in an awkward sequence of darting glances and avoided eye contact. As a flight attendant announced that this was a completely full flight a family of four was approaching the back of the plane: mom, dad, and two middle school kids. Vacant seats were located in front of me, next to me, and two behind me. I figured this would work out great. Let mom and dad sit together behind me and put the two kids in the middle seats so as not to cramp anyone's grill. Instead their ineptitude led to mom in a middle seat in front of me, one Fat Man and two lesser-men being crammed into three seats side-by-side, and two children sprawled out next to each other one row back. Remember when I said Fatiquette was a two-way street? Had a child sat next to me I would have entertained them the entire flight with comic books, stories from Fatland, and advice on how to succeed in life (Get Fat... quick). What ensued was 3-1/2 hours of blatant disregard for Fat Superiority and frequent leg-stretching trips to the lavatory/snack bar at the back of the plane.

For your viewing pleasure, observe this cheap graphic of what usually happens (inefficient) vs. what SHOULD happen (efficient). P = parent, Ch = child, ( Meeee ) = Me, I I = Aisle.

Imagine your typical plane seating as such:


As the modern age thrusts its presence upon us, many public establishments have instigated one of the most prolific advancements in Fat Promotion since fast food: the raiseable armrest. Most of the new stadium-seating theaters feature this technological marvel, with many airlines and live venues gradually following suit. It has long been the industry standard that only inner armrests on airplanes were raiseable, which greatly and unacceptably limited comfort and freedom of movement. To my surprise, the last flight I flew on allowed me to move BOTH armrests in my aisle seat, and there's no feeling like liberating your outer thighs into a wayward flight attendant's path.

In summary, the shorthand version of seating Fatiquette compels you.

1. Bigger IS better.
2. At least one empty seat in-between.
3. Fly Southwest and find aisle seats in the back of airplanes.
4. Immediately raise all armrests.
5. Make a new friend. The younger the better.

Until next time, Fat prevails.