First, the hope.

Elena Kagan moves up to big-game hunting with Antonin Scalia.

I tend to think the lack of civility in DC that we see on TV DOES have something to do with a decided lack of shmoozing across the aisles. There are lots of great stories and anecdotes of old-school friendships that crossed political lines in bygone years, but not so much of late.

So.

Happy that the Justices get along. That makes me happy.

Less hopeful is the dance I just did in order to accommodate a guy who I will refer to as Dork.

I’m on a flight to Austin to train folks in a writing curriculum I just wrote.

YAY that’s happy! Employment is good!

The flight is delayed. And the gate is moved. And delayed a little more. And moved again. So, as the flight attendant said, “it’s a real ‘cluster’ out there…” and I knew exactly what she meant, having just been in the middle of it.

But my husband checked me in online with his zillions of travel miles and I’m happily in Zone 1. I get myself in early, into my seat (aisle—score!) and I get my work out and I get my knitting out and I get down to the serious business of putting my attention to the lace trim on a Möbius I’m making for my sister’s birthday* present (she doesn’t read this. We’re safe). I’ve gotten about half a round done when Dork pauses in the aisle and is pointing at my seat. I pull my legs back, assuming he’s meaning he’s in the middle or window and he says, “No. You’re in MY SEAT.”

I am flustered.
I don’t think I made a mistake, but who knows?
So I get my ticket out of the overhead—a move that requires me to move out of my seat and behind it slightly (warning, error, relinquishment of territory)—and we are in fact BOTH ticketed in 21D.

We flag an attendant.

“Come with me”—she takes my boarding pass as I’m closest (and no longer in the seat) and foolishly I follow.

I left everything. My knitting. My laptop. My work in the seatback. My water. Hell, my phone was just sitting there in the seatback, headphones a danglin’.

So I got to stand at the back of the plane during the entire loading process (with out my knitting—boooooorrrrrriiiiinnnnng) and hoped Dork sat on my needles.
They’re ultra pointy.

Because seriously. I was there, right? I had the seat. Possession is 9/10ths of the law, right? I was sitting down. I was unpacked… but I had my seat moved… twice.

The story ends happily though.

I’m still in an aisle, in an exit row so I have more legroom. I have all of my things back (they had been scattered around the cabin—no joke). And I got a free drinky drink out of it.

And when I went back to finally get the last of my stuff… he had the nerve to be annoyed with me.

How could this all have been solved?

By him taking a different seat, once he saw that I was there, unpacked and HAD THE SEAT ON MY TICKET.

God save me from Dorks on this trip. I’ve had my fill.

*Möbius pattern will be ready for public consumption shortly. It’s fun!