I used to enjoy flying. I love airplanes. I love watching them fly. They remind me of my father, who was, as we’ve discussed, an air force pilot (and a special man altogether). He used to drive us out to the butt-end of the runway, when we were kids, and we’d park and watch the B-52s and KC-135s take off right over our heads.
KC-135s on the flightline, from Wikipedia.
Honestly, I have a thing for airplanes.
But I no longer love flying in them, for precisely the reasons cited in this article (which comes as no surprise to me).
Seats were 18 inches wide before airline deregulation in the 1970s and have since been whittled to 16 and a half inches, he said, while seat pitch used to be 35 inches and has decreased to about 31 inches.
Ugh. I have flown across the country all twisted up, trying desperately not to inflict myself on the passenger next to me, but unable to keep from touching. I am a chubby middle-aged woman; it can’t be helped.
Here’s hoping they’ll regulate a better seat situation soon.
Wanderlustful 