PEOPLE SAY WE create rules to make our lives easier. Well, at some point, I kinda agree with that (although I must say that many of them are just nonsense and not subtle, hint: “Do not eat this apple I put right in front of your face, Adam” so God’s rule was printed in big letters; huh, why not put it on top of a high mountain, far from Adam’s hands if You do not want him to bite it?).
So what I really meant by “at some point kinda agree” is rules for airplane seating. So if you get 20C, stick to that. If you insist on sitting on 20A, you’ll be sorry. Especially if the 20A’s name is Anita Rachman (yeah, that’s me). Airplanes’ window seats had thought me one important lesson: stand up for your rights.
It was last year when I got a window seat, but a douche in a uniform took it from me for his girlfriend. He was an army dude, wearing his green uniform, looking very serious — in a way was kinda saying “hey chick, don’t mess with me, I’m with the army.” Next beside him, sat a young woman looking all very spoiled, despairingly glued on my seat. Her lips were bright red and, again, she sat on my window seat.
Me: “Excuse me, that’s my seat.”
Douchebag: “What? You want the window seat?” (he narrowed his eyebrows and moved his head, like, again, saying: “chick, this is a second warning, give up the seat for my girlfriend. You pity civilian, don’t try me!). “Leave it for my girlfriend!” (he said challengingly).
But then I picked up my phone, dialed one of my sources, a top general at the army, “Hello, General X, it’s me Anita. Yes yes, Anita the journalist. I have a situation here. One of your lowest-range soldiers is here taking my seat for her girlfriend who wears red lipstick. I suggest you to immediately fire him, or send him to the deadliest spot in Indonesia. No no, I do not mean the presidential palace, oh but if you think that’s the spot, then I’ll leave it to you,” I said, then I waved my manicured fingers to him.
The douche crawled on his knees and begged for mercy.
Shit. Of course that only happened in my head. Yeah, including the manicured fingers part (I’ve never done my nails; besides, using your profession for a source’s help is unethical).
What actually happened after “I shuddered” was, I gave up my seat for his girlfriend. I got all yellowed. Shit. I hate myself for not doing anything (made me remember what my Briton English teacher used to say “I don’t understand why most of Indonesians do not stand up for their rights”), but, again, I got all chickened out. It was the Idul Fitri holiday, I did not want to risk my life (and trust me, the army dude was in a manner that made me think he was going to pull his gun at me).
Nevertheless, I told myself, that that was going to be the first and last time people robbed me of my seats. I will stand up for my rights, my window seats.
Six months after the tragedy, I successfully secured a window seat. But it looked like Zeus has been playing with Batavia Air’s system when I, again, got an army man sitting on my window seat!!
I was stunned, I couldn’t believe it.