I flew to Seattle yesterday morning for the BlogHer Food Conference. I started to write this post at the airport before I left Ohio, but because I hate to fly and I was going to talk about flying, I thought it would end up being one of those prophetic posts. You know, after the crash and all.
First of all I hate to fly, as evidenced by the time I took a Xanax and had two vodka cranberries. That flight? I liked. We hit turbulence and I may as well have had a cowboy hat and a lasso. Yee haw!
But, for the times I don’t have medication and I’m on the way to another city to actually work, I have to tough it out and because nothing takes my mind off of the world around me quite like being online, I ordered myself an upgrade to an exit row seat so I could work on the web from 25,000 feet. This is what I was going to tell you about when I started to write in Ohio; that I am a genius for thinking far enough ahead to get that seat.
What I didn’t consider is that exit rows give you more leg room, but you don’t get any more arm room. Lest you forget, I once held the prestigious nickname of “orangutan arms.”
I don’t know if you know this, but exit row seats have tray tables that come out of the arm of the seat. Some people might consider that before paying extra.
Said tray table is exactly 5 inches deep and sits, roughly, in the vicinity of your belly button. This is not an ideal position for typing. Sure, you could put your laptop directly on your lap, but when the plane is the temperature of roasting AND you are peri-menopausal, a hot computer on your thighs isn’t the better option. Trust me.
However, there was an upside, with the laptop sitting on the zipper of my jeans and with me being lucky enough to score the middle seat, I found that upgrading finally rid me of that “Orangutan Arms” moniker.
All it took was a swipe of my credit card and now you may call me, “T-Rex.”