On the first leg of my flight I boarded the plane to find my window seat occupied by a repulsive, large man. He and his repulsive, large friend had decided to take the aisle and the window and leave me the middle seat just because I was smaller (and, as it turned out female).
Femmephane: Excuse me, that’s my seat.
Aisle Guy: Oh, you need to get in? [Turns his bulk so that I can force myself through, presumably requiring me to rub one side of my body against his thighs, paunch, and face]
Femmephane: [Standing still] No. I need to get to the window. I need him to move first. [Window Guy is listening but reading a magazine, letting his friend do all the talking.]
Aisle Guy: You will sit in the middle. It will be very nice for us.
Apparently they were 1) confusing airplane seating with back seat of a station wagon, 2) banking on sheer force of asshole to get the two choice seats, 3) radically underestimating me.
I can kind of understand trading seats with strangers so that friends can sit together. (By friends I do mean lady friends or ladyfriends or sisters or maybe children and parents and very, very, rarely polite breeder couples.) But these assholes wanted me to switch so that they could sit apart! The nerve. Fortunately I am much more frightening than two hulking white guys and I prevailed– with plenty of window to sleep against.