EARLIER this year, Gulliver wrote about Knee Defenders, a small lock that air passengers can attach to their tray-tables to prevent the person in front of them reclining their seats. In the piece we noted—in a sterling case of stating the obvious—that it would be impossible to use the contraption without the victim getting annoyed. Air rage, we suspected, was bound to follow.
So it was no surprise to read this morning that a United Airlines plane had been diverted after two passengers fell out when one deployed his Knee Defender. The Associated Press reports:
The male passenger, seated in a middle seat of row 12, used the device to stop the woman in front of him reclining while he was on his laptop, according to a law enforcement official who spoke on condition of anonymity.
A flight attendant asked him to remove the device and he refused. The woman then stood up, turned around and threw a cup of water at him, the official said.
The dispute on the service from Newark to Denver escalated to the point that the airline decided to divert to Chicago’s O’Hare international airport.
Most people's sympathy, I suspect, lies with the water-thrower. Although Knee Defenders are not illegal, most big American carriers ban their use. An aggravating factor is that the passengers were flying economy plus. Presumably the lady had paid a little bit extra in the expectation of a smidgeon more comfort.
It can be annoying when the person in front reclines his seat, particularly if you are negotiating a scalding hot cup of tea at the time. Ultimately, though, it is his right to do so; and a quiet word is better than a sneaky chair lock.
Yet flyers have a strange relationship with the people in front and behind them. Despite the proximity, there is something about not being able to see their faces that makes the relationship impersonal and full of needle. It isn't just when they recline. Their anonymity means we sometimes see personal slights in the merest creak of the seat as they stretch out, or in an inane conversation with their children.
Compare this with the stranger in an adjacent seat. As a travelling companion he is likely to be much more bothersome: getting up and going to the toilet, impinging on your arm-rest, chatting when you want to sleep. Yet by-and-large, because we can make eye contact with him, relations tend to be more civil. Ultimately, the only way to get by in such a cramped and tiring environment is to stay genial. As one commenter on the AP story suggested: when it comes to reclining your seat, what is needed is a more laid-back approach.
