When it comes to commercial airline flights, there are two types of people in the world: window seat people and aisle seat people. (I suppose there could also be middle seat people, but in my whole life I have never met someone who enjoys being squished into that middle seat!)
I’ve always been a window seat girl myself. The ability to look out above the clouds, or to look down at all those tiny buildings of a glittering city or the geometric shapes of agricultural fields from 30,000 feet up in the air has always excited and fascinated me. There is something surreal and magical about viewing the world from that perspective. When given the choice, I would absolutely sit in the window seat rather than the aisle seat.
That is, until the symptoms of IC entered my life. When I started feeling that stinging, burning urgency that can only be soothed by a trip to the toilet, my airplane habits changed. The priority was no longer enjoying the view, but a more strategic and utilitarian mindset: minimize the distance between myself and the bathroom.
I never really put much thought into this change in habit until recently, when I went to see a musical with my boyfriend. (We saw The Lion King, by the way, and it was AMAZING! Highly recommended for kids, or anyone who’s young at heart 🙂 As we found our seats in the elegant old theatre and got settled, I felt a wave of satisfaction and security with the fact that we were on the aisle. I knew where the bathroom was, and how to get there quickly from my seat. If I needed to get up in the middle of the performance, I would be able to sneak out easily without stumbling past other people and causing a disruption. Strategic and utilitarian. Not really a choice made for aesthetic reasons or enjoyment.
(Of course, my next move would be a preventative pee break before the show started. As usual.)
As the seats around us filled in, I overheard an older woman in the aisle seat in front of us talking to another woman next to her, probably her daughter. “I can’t believe we got these seats, right on the aisle!” she whispered excitedly. I smiled to myself, amused at the idea that I had an anonymous comrade in my pursuit of easy bathroom access. She sure was happy about her seating choice (and presumed bladder issues). Hey, more power to her!
The lights dimmed, and the show began. I soon understood why having an aisle seat was such a privilege here — and it was not as mundane as I had expected.
With the opening song, dozens of colorful characters burst through the doors at the back of the theatre and started parading down the aisles toward the stage. It was spectacular! My ears were filled with the steady rhythms of the African drums and the harmony of all the singers’ voices. My eyes soaked up the vibrant colors and creative shapes of life-sized giraffe puppets and twirling bird mobiles as they danced down the aisle, inches from my face. I’m pretty sure my jaw actually dropped open for several minutes.
Obviously, for the woman sitting in front of me, this was not her first rodeo with the Lion King musical. She knew what sitting on the aisle meant. Maybe she was also considering the bathroom access, or maybe not at all. I’ll never know. But for me, this experience served as a reminder that the “strategic” choices we make don’t necessarily have to be boring. We can have our cake, and eat it too.
The Silver Lining: Sometimes the option you think is purely practical can surprise you with aesthetic delights. 🙂