yeah, i know, a seat by the window is worth the fight. in a bus, train or plane, it doesn't even matter much. what matters most is that you got the window seat. because from that seat, a glimpse of a wonderful world would exceeds you in a buzz. but you'll never know how long the seat would worth the fight.
so, one day, when i was in a boeing 737-900 flight from jakarta to medan, north sumatera, last mid june, there was this old man sitting in our front row. he seemed nice and kind, since he smiled easily to strangers like us. the smiling old man has already secured his position next to the window, while other passengers were still hunting their seats or busily placing their handbags into the luggage. and then came this sporty woman -- she's in her late 30s or even 40s, i guess, -- asking the old man to move from his comfort seat.
"excuse me, sir, but that's my seat," i heard the woman asking the old man politely while waving her boarding pass ticket. i paid no attention thoroughly until the woman repeated her request.
i spotted that the old man then budged to the middle seat. but since there were no space left between the passenger's knee and the seat in front of them, the woman couldn't get in. the old man moved his legs aside, and the woman tried to get in once more. zilch. she then asked the old man to get up and move to the aisle so that the woman could get in first. the old man struggled very hard to move to the aisle seat. standing firmly on the plane's aisle, now the woman looked pissed off.
a very understandable perseverance, i thought, since i would do the same to fight my window seat back, if i get one.
until i noticed the reason why the old man seemed reluctantly gave his previous seat away. "he's disabled. i'm sure he wore an artificial leg under his trousers," whispered my boss sitting next to me.
now that very fact hit me. and all of a sudden, pieces of puzzle fell into its places: why the old man chose to sit on a window seat, why he reluctantly moved. why -- for some reasons -- a window seat was chosen not for its beautiful view it has to offer.
and i found myself suddenly cursed my thought for blaming him too stubborn to move and hating the way the woman defended her seat. "well, you can't blame her," i heard my boss murmured in a low voice, analyzing the situation, "since she didn't know the case until then, and the old man didn't say his real condition."
i was speechless, but couldn't help feeling so sorry for that smiling old man.
...
well, life has just taught me, that sometimes, a window seat isn't just that matters.
* * *
so, one day, when i was in a boeing 737-900 flight from jakarta to medan, north sumatera, last mid june, there was this old man sitting in our front row. he seemed nice and kind, since he smiled easily to strangers like us. the smiling old man has already secured his position next to the window, while other passengers were still hunting their seats or busily placing their handbags into the luggage. and then came this sporty woman -- she's in her late 30s or even 40s, i guess, -- asking the old man to move from his comfort seat.
"excuse me, sir, but that's my seat," i heard the woman asking the old man politely while waving her boarding pass ticket. i paid no attention thoroughly until the woman repeated her request.
i spotted that the old man then budged to the middle seat. but since there were no space left between the passenger's knee and the seat in front of them, the woman couldn't get in. the old man moved his legs aside, and the woman tried to get in once more. zilch. she then asked the old man to get up and move to the aisle so that the woman could get in first. the old man struggled very hard to move to the aisle seat. standing firmly on the plane's aisle, now the woman looked pissed off.
a very understandable perseverance, i thought, since i would do the same to fight my window seat back, if i get one.
until i noticed the reason why the old man seemed reluctantly gave his previous seat away. "he's disabled. i'm sure he wore an artificial leg under his trousers," whispered my boss sitting next to me.
now that very fact hit me. and all of a sudden, pieces of puzzle fell into its places: why the old man chose to sit on a window seat, why he reluctantly moved. why -- for some reasons -- a window seat was chosen not for its beautiful view it has to offer.
and i found myself suddenly cursed my thought for blaming him too stubborn to move and hating the way the woman defended her seat. "well, you can't blame her," i heard my boss murmured in a low voice, analyzing the situation, "since she didn't know the case until then, and the old man didn't say his real condition."
i was speechless, but couldn't help feeling so sorry for that smiling old man.
...
well, life has just taught me, that sometimes, a window seat isn't just that matters.
* * *
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