Read On: Knocking down entitlement
It was only going to be an hourlong flight from Burbank to Oakland eight days ago, but I still thought it a good idea to get the early-boarding upgrade for 15 bucks on Southwest — the rare airline that doesn’t do reserved seating. I mean, you don’t want to get wedged between a pair of sumo wrestlers for even 60 minutes.
So, there I was in the fourth row with a prime window seat, feeling pretty good about myself for not being cheap, when she got on and plopped herself down in the aisle seat of my three-across row.
The young lady (I guess early 30s) was attractive, cosmetically spectacular and ultra-trendy. There was the Beverly Hills manicure. The tragically hip arm tattoos. The fashion hoodie. The Louis Vuitton bag. The gargantuan rock on the ring finger. The world-class eyelashes.
As soon as she sat down, the woman proceeded to claim the area in front of and around her as her personal real estate with an abundance of gear (laptop, tablet, smartphone, two purses, a stunning variety of papers and folders) tossed all over the unoccupied middle seat.
This was followed almost instantly by the constant loud texting (ding!) that gave little consideration for those (click-click-click-ding!) around her.
We all know this type. When someone like this barges into your space, the vibe typically becomes notably one-sided. They are, almost without exception, entitlement magnets. They not only believe that the world revolves solely around them; it’s as if they scarcely acknowledge there are others on the planet at all.
So anyway, as the plane filled up, Emma Entitlement lowered both her own tray table and intermittently the one in front of the middle seat beside her, spreading her stuff out more each time someone boarded the flight. This was designed to convey the unmistakable message that no one had best even think about taking this here middle seat because it belonged to her even if she hadn’t paid for it.
Then as soon as the person getting on had safely passed, she would raise the table of the seat beside her again. This all happened wordlessly but with a haughty expression that remained firmly stuck in place.
It was getting close to flight time. The plane was nearly full. Only the last stragglers remained to board and then we’d be taking off. The seat between Emma and I was one of maybe a half-dozen still empty.
On walked a woman in maybe her 40s accompanied by a very elderly man whom I figured to be well north of 80. Down came the middle-seat tray table. The woman said to the gentleman, “It’s only middle seats, Dad. We’re going to have to sit separate.”
The words were barely out of her mouth when I was seized by a sudden thought. Unfolding before me was a literally perfect karmic opportunity. Everything slowed down and I saw it all flash before me like a shimmering diamond.
As inspiration struck, I stood and addressed the pair in the aisle.
“Young lady,” I began. “You won’t have to sit separately from your father. You two can come sit right here.”
The look of gratitude on the faces of the woman and her father was a thing of beauty. But I have to admit it wasn’t nearly as priceless as the expression of shock, horror and fury etched on the face of Emma Entitlement. I heard her mutter under her breath, “What? You’re s---ing me!”
Ignoring her, I moved to the aisle, forcing her to stand and step back to let me out. I looked her straight in the eyelash extensions and smiled broadly, saying nothing.
As I turned and began walking to the back of the plane, I heard loud and repeated annoyed sighs coming from behind. I honestly thought Emma was going to pass out. And I’ve never been so pleased to be wedged tightly between a pair of people who fortunately turned out not to be sumo wrestlers.
I’d like to say this was more about me being a mensch than simply a guy who treasures a textbook moment of poetic justice. But I’m afraid that would be a lie. In fact, I’m almost ashamed to admit the amount of pleasure this experience gave me, which speaks either to my capacity for kindness or retribution (likely the latter).
All I know is, episodes where the universe works as it should are all too infrequent — and when we’re chosen, failure to act is not an option.
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RAY RICHMOND has covered Hollywood and the entertainment business since 1984. He can be reached via email at ray@rayrichco.com and Twitter at @MeGoodWriter.