Despite the claims made in the airline commercials, no plane provides enough legroom for people to sit comfortably (especially when Sergeant Asshole in front of you reclines his seat the full 8 inches (is that any more comfortable?)). With the large list of inevitable chafes encountered on every travel day, the pleasant surprise of having an empty seat next to you for the 3 hour plane ride is simply arousing. It’s not like the usual people who sit next to you are ever people you want nearby. I can’t remember the last time I sat next to a good looking girl on a flight, because I don’t think I ever have. Instead, it seems like I’m always stuck next to Scut Farkus or a guy with a severe throat clearing problem. Walking onto the plane, you never anticipate this extra space. Then, as traffic in the aisle starts to die down, the thought pops into your head and you start waiting for the flight attendant to close the door. It finally comes, and you shoot the guy in the window seat a glance. He reciprocates the look, and the unwritten, unspoken contract is now binding. You have agreed to split custody of the bitch and each take half the legroom. It’s a beautiful thing indeed.