:: Cyrus Broacha

Unlucky 32-B

Cyrus Broacha

June.14 : As part of their training the Green Berets (the Army unit in United States of America) are made to go through extremely gruelling sessions. These include watching old episodes of David Hasselhoff in the Knight Rider series and translating Chekhov’s works back into Russian. The worst, most ardous task of course is making them fly the "bathroom seat". For those of you who are not Green Berets, or who have never flown or who are simply not paying attention, let one expand on the concept of the "bathroom seat".

Every aeroplane is divided into three parts. At the top where the pilots sit it’s very cushy and comfortable, lots of space, free massages, seven-foot laser screens, playstations and plenty of eye-popping female company.

Then we have the business class whose main advantage is passengers may occupy chairs without touching one another. Also for about Rs 7,000 more you get a free magazine, or a free pastry and, I’m told, on a couple of sectors you may actually receive both.

The third is economy class, also known as "coach class", "cattle class", "Malad fast", or the "human sandwich". Here, in a scientific experiment gone horribly wrong, three oversized humans are made to sit together on effectively two seats. WHO lists this as the Number 1 cause of skin diseases and joint disintegration.

These three seats are known to all practioners of the ancient art of flying. However there is a "fourth" class that has remained a well-guarded secret to all but a few special passengers. That, my dear friends, is the famous bathroom seat. Last Sunday, I had the privilege of experiencing the "bathroom" seat phenomenon for myself. It was a Jet Airways flight 302. An enormous number, if ever I saw one. As we boarded our plane only 48 minutes behind schedule (in domestic travel parlance a delay is only considered a delay if it’s more than 90 minutes in length), so we were actually well on time. I chatted with a few passengers and security officers, thereby entering the plane in a very relaxed frame of mind. My seat number was 32-B. This number would normally be more associated with a ramp model, as I whispered to a fellow passenger who enjoyed this observation thoroughly. That’s when the joking ended. 32-B is the most feared number in an aeroplane. It’s the middle seat of the last row in the plane. It is approximately nine inches away from the bathroom, it has no leg-room, and wonders of wonders, the seat cannot recline as it is held up against the bathroom’s side door. Then I found that all friendliness amongst passengers had disappeared. Apparently, it was every man for himself. The dogs of war were let loose. I found that 32-A and 32-C had conspired against me.

Frustrated at getting these terrible seats, 32-A and 32-C tried to annexe 32-B so that they could have a larger empire and so that their peoples could live on larger tracts of land, and hence have a much healthier standard of living. Both parties shoved elbows, hips and thighs into the bathroom seat, so that it soon became apparent to anyone who was interested that 32-B now not only consisted of 32-B, but also parts of 32-A and 32-C. Stuffed like a turkey on Thanksgiving, little did I know that the worst was still to come. Next came the food tray. 32-A and 32-C grabbed their trays and went at their food with a ferocious fervour.

Unfortunately 32-B couldn’t even remove the paper covering from his tray, primarily because there was literally no square inch free to manipulate either elbow, as both 32-B’s hand-rests were occupied by 32-A and 32-C’s hands respectively. 32-A and 32-C were in no mood to show any mercy. Hands and hips flaying, they continued their merry meal. 32-C, on finishing his own food, noticed the unopened tray on 32-B. The annexation was complete with 32-C appropriating and devouring 32-B’s food. When the suggestion slips were handed out, 32-B dared to take any risk as he hadn’t quite become adept at writing with his mouth. 32-B tried to get some rest but his chin kept hitting his chest injuring him several times and grievously.

The "bathroom" seat can break a man. Crush his spirit, damage his psyche. I’m told even air terrorists refuse to travel on the "bathroom" seat. To help you deal with this trauma, if you or your loved ones were destroyed by the "bathroom" seat log on to our community website crushed@bathroomseat.com for some serious support. (This website is under construction).