Nobody Likes the Bitch Seat

I know I don't.

Courtesy of the New York Times, we learn that train passengers avoid the middle seat for the extremes of left and right. This is not surprising. In the middle, you are squeezed from both ends. You face the difficulties of getting up held by the window seat, and still can't see outside. In fact the only circumstance in which I can imagine that the middle would be any fun is if you were extremely fat: then you could press out on either side and damn the inconvenience for others. It takes a great deal of self-confidence, or desperation, or a tiny physique to make the middle attractive otherwise.

Of course I can't resist the political analogy. The middle has become a very uncomfortable place. On the right someone is driving their elbow into your kidneys while they yammer in your ears and attempt to steal your purse. The person of the left might give you room but no help: they are busy staring out the window or reading a book, arguing with themselves under their breath. Sometimes the two of them start arguing past you, demanding that they take sides. So the temptation to get up and find another seat on either extreme is an irresistable one.

Economically and politically we are becoming a train full of empty middle seats. And who can blame us?