the great debate

James colley and deirdre fidge go head to head on the matter of reclining aeroplane seats.

STAY UPRIGHT, PLEASE BY DEIRDRE FIDGE

Have you ever sat on a plane, preparing for take-off, while an advertisement for the airline plays on a screen in front of you? It’s always the same scene: a handsome pilot calmly beaming, muscles rippling under his suit while beautiful women offer similarly attractive passengers incredible-looking meals. It’s a wild juxtaposition to what you’re literally experiencing, which is more along the lines of a tired voice apologising for the delay while exasperated airline staff bark at a person in soiled tracksuit pants to fold up their tray table. And also… you’re the person in the soiled tracksuit pants.

Before I sway too far into ‘what’s the deal with aeroplane food’ territory, it’s not revolutionary to declare that flying is a deeply unpleasant mode of transportation. I hear Business and First Class are luxurious and pleasant, but for the purposes of this debate (and, in fact, my general sanity) I’m going to proceed by pretending rich people do not exist. Most of us normal losers tend to travel in economy class, which, as we all know, is the perfect combination of cramped and stuffy.

Not many people love flying. While trains offer freedom to stretch your legs, and horses offer lifelong friendship, planes are by far the most restrictive way to travel. There is not one single inch of wasted space – every teeny ounce of your seat is precious. It is your throne. It is your kingdom, and you have paid good money to go somewhere fun and exciting and new. For the duration of the flight, you no longer have a home. Your new residence is the sticky seat on which your rump rests, as well as – crucially – your legroom.

It may seem a stretch to use the word ‘legroom’ to describe an area roughly the size of a Kraft cheese single, but please give me this one – after all, it’s the only stretching any of us will be doing on this flight (ha-ha! Thank you for the laughter and applause). I have always considered my body to be like the Little Teapot – short and stout – and yet, even my tiny gams struggle to squish themselves into the space on a plane. Seating on aeroplanes discriminates against anyone with a larger frame, and nobody should feel uncomfortable while travelling.

Let me repeat that: nobody should feel uncomfortable while travelling. So, please consider your fellow passengers if you feel the urge to recline your chair. The poor soul seated behind you deserves to enjoy their speeding human sardine bonanza without losing that precious amount of space in front of them. They deserve to relax and watch a film on a tiny screen without it catapulting into their face. We must practise empathy for our fellow humans, even when trapped in a zooming fart bus in the sky. Especially then. I’d like to gently challenge any chair-recliners reading this debate: why must you do it? What makes your comfort more important than the person behind you? Are you also the kind of person who removes their shoes and slides their feet between the seats in front like two hot, hairy eels? WHO DIED AND MADE YOU THE MOST IMPORTANT PERSON ON THIS PLANE, YOU HORIZONTAL PERVERT?

Sorry. You’re probably a good person, deep down. You might not even realise how annoying this behaviour is. Maybe you’re not as exceedingly considerate as me, and just want to relax. At the end of the day, we are all trapped in this zooming fart bus together while First Class passengers drink cocktails, laughing at our very existence. We’re comrades. So let’s respect each other’s space and keep the seats upright. Also, what is the deal with aeroplane food?

GO AHEAD AND RECLINE BY JAMES COLLEY

This is a poisoned chalice. I will not win a single friend with this argument. Part of me wonders if I was offered this side of the debate strictly as frankie’s resident arsehole. In truth, when I’m on a flight, I would rather pull on the emergency exit handle than touch my seat-recline button, for fear of annoying a complete stranger I’ll never see again. But still, while I may not agree with your decision to recline your seat, I will fight to the death for your right to do it. Or at least, fight until I am forced to stow away my laptop and put my phone in flight mode.

Here’s the first and most important point: when we fight about seat-reclining privileges, we aren’t mad at each other. Really, we’re mad at the airline. It’s not the fault of the person in front of you that they need room to stretch their legs, and in the same way, it’s not your fault that you need more space. That these two goals are mutually exclusive is entirely the fault of the airline. They’re the ones who crammed in as many rows of seats as possible to make as much profit as possible. You do not hate the person in seat 14C – you hate capitalism.

Next, let’s argue that reclining your seat on a flight is self-care. You’re being shot into the sky in a big metal tube – it’s a stressful situation. If adding a slight incline to your seat is what helps you get through it and possibly even have a kip, then so be it. It’s OK to be selfish once in a while. In fact, if the person behind you just reclined their chair as well, it seems only fair that you both have the sweet comfort you deserve. It’s a domino effect of relaxation, but that’s beside the point – in the air, it’s every man, woman or child for themselves.

Let’s take this one step further: quantum physics tells us that anything not forbidden is compulsory. Whatever is possible must exist. There are 4000 things you cannot do on a plane. You can’t smoke, you can’t make certain jokes, you can’t even piss in the good toilet at the front of the plane because you’re a little urchin that belongs in steerage. You know what you can do, though? Tilt your seat back, like, three degrees. Oh, what a divine luxury it is! What a sweet gift from the universe! Hell, if that’s the only pleasure you can get in this seat that you’ve paid hundreds of dollars for, tilt that thing, baby!

Also, if the people behind you didn’t want to have a seat tilted back on them, they could have chosen to sit in an emergency row, but clearly, they refused to accept the responsibility. Your seat coming back on them is divine retribution for their own cowardice and unwillingness to save your life and others. Too dramatic? Fine, but really, like every little pleasure we take for ourselves, you can build whatever moral framework you need to justify it.

And isn’t that the greater point? You want to tilt your seat back. Of course you do. The only thing stopping you is a world that has told you to be small, to take up no space, to put everyone else before you. Well, I say no more. Today, you take what is yours, even if that’s the smallest amount of legroom that will immediately disappear when the meal service arrives. Living is hard, and life is long. Tilt your damn seat back.

Unless I’m the person sitting behind you, of course. In that case, you sit exactly bolt upright or I will wild out, I swear to god.