The politics of seat sharing

It isn’t only in politics that seat sharing offers a fascinating study. On most days I board the 7:48 City via Chatswood train at Epping. I make my way to the lower deck in search of a seat. The aisle splits the two rows - 2 seaters on one side and 3 seaters on the other. Usually there are only a few seats available. The choice is between picking an empty seat on a 2 seater or a 3 seater.

As anyone with some experience in seated train travel knows, the worst seat is the middle position in a 3 seater. You are sandwiched between two passengers, shoulders cramped together and no room to manoeuvre. It is very inconvenient to read a newspaper or work on a laptop, as both shoulders are clamped close to the body, but the hands need room to spread out to hold a newspaper or type on a keyboard. The general appearance is of someone frozen midway through a breaststroke, or mimicking a praying mantis.

On the rare occasion when there is a 3 seater occupied by just one person, grabbing this is a no-brainer, because 1.5 seats per person is way better than just 1 seat per person. But so unpopular is the middle seat, that most people, myself included, will stick to the aisle like a leech, and when faced with the prospect of sharing the seat with a third occupant, will either stand and make way or pull back one’s legs to the maximum to allow the newcomer to slide in to the dreaded sandwich position.

Very occasionally, one comes across the do-gooder, who will not stick to his or her aisle seat, but actually slide inwards to the middle seat, and offer the aisle to the newcomer. This is the supreme courtesy in train travel, and I wonder what stuff these altruists are made of. If one followed them around, one may discover extraordinary lives spent on selfless service of humankind.

The one thing I have noticed is that such people are more likely to be female than male, and also more likely to be old than young. Not sure if that says something about decency among humankind in general.