Posts Tagged ‘math’

You + me + tall guy next to me = won’t work. A formula for the future. Let’s write this down or something.

Even if we ignore the basic physics of the situation — just the volume of our collective four feet takes up almost all of our allotted floor space — and the general awkward entanglement of limbs, there’s this issue: only one of us can have the aisle seat. Can’t be in two places at once, no matter how bizarrely you try to twist ol’ Schrodinger’s dead cat experiment into a workable theory to fit the situation. I suppose we could theoretically sit on each other’s laps, but I’m going to have to veto that one right from the start. I only sit on laps if I get paid to do it. And then I’ll dance for you. Don’t quote me on that.

Anyway, like I said, the single aisle seat’s the problem. Tall guy has Gumby limbs. I have tic overload. One of the two has to give. If you trap tall dude against the window, he has to knot himself up like a unibrowed pretzel and giraffe-step over me to get to the bathroom. If you trap me against the window, I’m fidgeting like Lindsay Lohan going through withdrawals and eventually shark-breaching over him into the aisle just to give my limbs a chance to relax.

But wait, it gets worse! You see, even if I do get the aisle seat, tall dude’s elbows are still crowding my arm rest. That means I have to tuck my arm in near me. That’s the catalyst for the ol’ shoulder shrug routine. So doesn’t matter where I sit, you’ll be on my case, Tourette’s. Can’t blame you. You’re just being you. It’s all the plane’s fault, really.

So, yeah, no complex physics needed. No mathematical constructs. Just a simple equation. Let’s see if I having the equation around can do anything to change the result. I have my doubts. This is like bad third grade math, people. It’s a lose-lose, and one of us might even get detention.

Or something.

Miscalculatingly yours,
Bezuidenthustra