Manhood by Another Name

Marquel, TPVs NYTimes Ism Section correspondent, was reading The Quiet Virtues of Capitalism by Ayn Rand, when he had a sudden sneeze attack and noticed Aboard Flights, Conflicts Over Seat Assignments and Religion. Airline passengers are sharing stories of conflicts between ultra-Orthodox Jewish men trying to follow their faith by avoiding mixed-sex seating and women just hoping to sit down.

Marquel quickly found that it wasn’t just religion. Plenty of people have firm preferences. And sitting with somebody over a twelve hours flight who doesn’t match those preferences can really test your…preferences.

When ultra orthodox Jews are sitting next to a person of the opposite gender, their sexuality may become aroused, even If looking at the ultra orthodox for most people puts their sexuality out of commission for several hours or weeks. It seems the ultra orthodox can be turned on by anything, which explains why they’d prefer to just sit alone…and most others would prefer that. But several plane flights have been held up over this.

Marquel asked, “If they won’t sit next to a woman, why not just put them off the plane? Nobody ever gives me a choice over whom to sit next to.”

“They’ve become a major part of the flying public. We can’t lose their business as the airline that won’t accommodate them.” A spokesperson announced.

“So it’s a profit thing. The Jews get special treatment?” Marquel asked.

“No. We’re not allowed to discriminate so now that the Jews get it, everybody gets it.” She said.

“But what if most people don’t care what gender sits next to them. Maybe they just want peace and quiet?” Marquel asked.

“You can demand that kind of seat mate.” She assured.

“What if a bunch of college guys get in and they want loose women for companions?” Asked Marquel.

“The rules cover that. Anything you want.” She promised.

“Virgins?” I asked.

“We can’t allow ourselves to become celibists. If there’s a virgin in the plane and you requested her, you get her.” She said.

“What if the virgin wants an old drunk.”

“We can frequently satisfy two preferences in three by the settings. The virgin in the middle, the college kid by the window, the old drunk by the aisle.” She explained.

“You must nevertheless be stumped occasionally.” I supposed.

“Not all that often. It still takes an extra hour to seat people but everyone’s happy.” She said.

“An hour’s a big price to pay for an old drunk.” I said.

“Maybe, maybe not. You can speed things up by expressing no preferences.” She said.

“That might be less likely now that you’ve started this. I’d spend the whole flight regretting my decision and wondering who got the loose virgin.” I said.

She offered me a flight to Milwaukee to see the new policy in action.

It was like an auction. As soon as I got on, the flight attendants were like auctioneers, screaming at the top of their lungs.

“We need two communists in row 19.”

“A fashion model in row 7 please.”

“Someone not wearing cologne in row 21”.

“Someone very short in row 4”.

“Someone intolerably tall in row 9.”

“An anarchist in 11 please.”

“Find out if 19 will take an anarchist.”

“Hold it. The tall guy wants a short guy. Put them both in 4.”

“Four vegetarians in 22.”

“That’s one extra vegetarian. Save that.”

“One pregnant woman looking for a seat that’s vacant.”

“I’ve got a vacant seat in 27 but it wants a fat person to sit on it.”

“Another pregnant person.”

“Put them both in 27 vacant”.

I was at the entrance. Time to voice my preference. “I’d like someone rich looking for someone to put in his or her will.” I said.

“We need a  rich overly generous prson for 16.”

I sat down and sat in 16. The seat remained empty. Seat belts were fastened. A couple of bearded guys hustled down the aisle and suddenly sat down next to me. Ultra orthodox Jews! How would I escape this. “Are you guys rich?” I asked.

“Modestly,” they both said.

“Would you share your wealth?” I asked.

“It’s a commandment and a mitzvah” they  said.

“With me?” I asked.

“Of course.” I now had second thoughts.

They both started chanting. “What are you doing?” I asked.

“We’re praying for you. That you become as rich as us one day.” They said.

I had to get out of this fraud. I held both their hands, and asked, “Do you believe in single sex marriages? Maybe even a three some?” I squeezed their hands even harder. They fled to the rear where a crowd had gathered. I asked the flight attendant what the problem was.

“The matching computer froze. Most people got what they want.” She looked at me harshly. “Except you. But you chased them away.”

“So what’s that crowd?” I asked, pointing to the rear.

“We’ve got 16 ultra orthodox Jews. No-one wants to sit with them, so we’re putting them in the last three rows. Right in front of the two pregnant ladies who now get three seats, one empty.”

“Successful flight?” I asked.

“The flight hasn’t started yet. But a  successful seating. That’s always a good start.”

We flew to Milwaukee. It was uneventful except that I disembarked as poor as ever.

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By MARQUEL: Manhood by Another Name