TRAVEL TRIBES

Jason surveys his E-seat grimly, assessing the patterned polyester terrain before sinking heavily into it. He has a love/hate relationship with the middle seats on planes. On the one hand, he hates having two borders to defend from two hateful opponents on this flight to New York. On the other, he loves having something to hate. For a military enthusiast like Jason, BA 115 from LHR to JFK is a war game, a battle of wills, an adroit display of strategy, perseverance and machismo.

Jason erects his camp by planting his elbows firmly into the crook of both arm rests, gripping the ends tightly. He favours defensive tactics in the north – above his waist – but his legs are very much on the offensive. It’s vital to let the women flanking him – a besuited academic in 24D and an exchange student in 24F – know who is the boss of row 24, he thinks, clenching his jaw with determination.

Jason recalls The Art of War by Sun Tzu: “The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting.” Jason spreads his knees as far apart as his grey tracksuit bottoms will stretch, forcing his opponents to adjust their neatly crossed legs outwards, to a deferential 75-degree angle to the aisle and window. Jason immediately deploys his elbows, encroaching further over the armrests, to luxuriate in newly claimed territory. His splayed knees signal V for victory, and Jason nods with satisfaction when the student has her knee clipped by a trolley. Now all he has to do is plug his headphones into the armrest without moving his arms. He pokes at the pocket in the seat in front of him with his toes, clad in a grubby white sports sock. This manoeuvre will take time, Jason knows. But Rome was not built in a day.