When you stand up from your seat behind me, I understand that it can be helpful to hold onto my seatback for balance. Could you just do me a favor and check to make sure you don’t have a fistful of my hair before you do? And maybe not put ALL of your weight onto the thing that’s designed to hold me upright?
And when you’re sitting next to me, I can understand your need to shift occasionally, and get comfortable. But when I’m just about to doze off, I really get touchy about you throwing every ounce of your weight against the seat back that we’re sharing. I’m telling you, the seat back was reclining at a 45 degree angle at one point. And barring that, could you PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE not KICK the fucking seat support? Every single kick goes right through me, and pretty soon, I’m gonna make sure it goes right back through you again.
And if you have to lean over to get something out of your pocket, that’s fine. If leaning over entails you practically laying your head in my lap, or (as was the case with one woman) whacking my in the lip with your head, then I think you should consider standing up instead.
And if for some reason you’re sitting directly next to me, I can accept that some bodily contact is inevitable. I can’t accept you sitting there with your elbows sticking out so that they’re actually resting on my ribs. That, my friend, is going too far.
But I’m telling you, right here, right now, that if you do indeed have a desire for bodily reconstruction, then keep reading my book over my shoulder. Sometimes, my friend, wishes DO come true.