I am a ninja about the window seat. I mean, I think that’s what I am; I’ve never actually used the word ninja before. Doesn’t matter if it’s a plane, train or bus, and it goes without saying, same for a car. I often take a bus service to the Hamptons for a weekend – of course, since the Hamptons are so fancy its not called a bus, but a Jitney, even though the Hamptons are just on Long Island, not in Great Britain. I always board at the first stop, so I can get the pick of the good seats.
Got a really good seat today: it’s an art. Not too near the bathroom, not next to one of the windows which blows noisy air, not too close to the front so that someone plops right down next to you. Because your next wish, after getting the perfect seat, is that no one sits down next to you. I’ve been known to place a bottle of Pepto-Bismal on the adjoining seat, and I’m not even kidding.
So now we’re at the final pickup stop, and I’m just settling in. I have all my important stuff around me: a book, a sandwich, my iPod, a drink, and other stuff just to take up space. And now the bus is pretty darn full, and here comes the old couple down the aisle.
He asks me, as nice as pie, of course, as he’a a sweet old man, “Would you mind moving so that my wife and I can sit together?”
Don’t they have any idea at all how much this seat means to me?
They should totally get on at the first stop if they want seats this good!
How could they?
“Of course, no problem at all.”
Always remember, it could happen to you. And probably will.