Creatures of comfort

I

On tonight's flight from Philly to Rome the seats are only about one-third full. As I look around, I see that everyone in my area has an entire row to themselves. Here in 11H, I am also squatting on 11G, creating a rather pleasant loveseat-esque pod in which to while away the coming eight hours.

Directly across from me, there's a little old Italian guy who's commandeered his row of four seats, even though--fully reclined--he is barely three seats long. The married couple two rows ahead decided to split up into two rows so they could each have their own space. The guy in front of the old Italian gentleman--also with four seats to himself--is a do-gooder. He asked everyone in earshot if they'd like one of his extra pillows, and when everyone declined as they had their own stockpile, he happily fluffed up the whole lot of them to create a cozy nest. 

I am reminded of Stella, who spends countless hours a day fluffing up her personal space to maximize comfort. Whether it's a rug that's too scratchy, a stone floor that's too hard, or a lumpy spot in her bed, Stella will push, pull and kick at it until it's just right.  My in-flight neighbors are all in the process of doing the exact same thing. 

There's an interesting collection of stripes, argyle and solid socks to be seen as all shoes are off and neatly stowed under the seat in front of us. The faint aromas of sweat, leather and gym mingle with tonight's pasta or chicken menu selections. My black compression stockings are dull and make me feel old, but my toes are happy to be liberated.

We may not be fortunate enough to have a seat in business class, but here in "resourceful class," we are all happily making the very best of a long night and the lovely gift of a little extra space in which to feel "at home."