Life in the Middle Seat

by Catherine Latchford (United States of America)

I didn't expect to find France

Before this trip, the longest flight I took was a flight from Norfolk to Dallas - a 5 hour maximum trip. So, naturally, when I saw that my transatlantic red-eye consisted of 9 hours of travel time, I was intimidated. I'd never been on a red-eye, let alone a red-eye crossing several time zones and the Atlantic Ocean! Per my over-prepared personality, I read every WebMD post and travel blog on fighting jet lag; after all, this was my first time in another country and I wouldn't let a few time zones to keep me from seeing all that France had to offer. When we got to Dulles Airport, however, I learned that I was graced with the thing every frequent flyer dreads: the middle seat. That's right! My first red-eye... my first transatlantic flight... and I, Catherine Leigh, had been bestowed the middle seat. Of course, as a college student who balls on a budget I wasn't paying the extra fee to get out of it, so I accepted my fate as the middleman in row 23. I didn't know it then, but that middle seat would change my life. We boarded our flight and I took my seat. After 10 minutes, no one had sat in the aisle seat next to me. "Is this it?" I thought to myself, my hope growing that maybe the seat would be left unclaimed. This hope was quickly dashed when a flight attendant came to the seat, turned around and said, "This is your seat, madame! I'll take your luggage and put it in the compartment." My disappointment of losing my opportunity for airplane musical chairs shifted to curiosity, and I stole a quick glance at my row buddy for the next 7 hours. It was an elderly woman in her late 70's. I had only travelled with people I knew and always sat next to them, so this was unknown territory for me. What should I do? Should I initiate conversation? Wait for her to talk? Sit in silence?! My question was answered as she sat. “What’s your name?” she asked in a thick African accent. I answered and asked hers in return, and she replied, “Margarite”. We quickly sparked conversation about why we were heading to Amsterdam (I had a layover in the Netherlands before I got to Paris). I told her about my trip and she gushed about how much she loved France when she visited. She continued and said she was heading home. I picked up on her accent early in the conversation and this sparked my curiosity, so I asked her where she was from. "I'm from Nairobi, Kenya," she responded, a twinkle in her eye. “What were you doing in the States?” I asked. She began telling me an amazing tale: she and her sister taught at several American universities across the country and had been visiting her. She told me stories of her adventures throughout her life, starting with her childhood in Nairobi. She beamed when she recounted her travels to Antigua where she met the love of her life and married him for 57 years. She told me her favourite parts of life, and how her faith helped her stand strong in the face of adversity. We spoke for hours, sharing our stories and learning about each other's lives. Because it was a red-eye flight we didn't talk after dinner in order to sleep. We finally landed in Amsterdam at 7AM. As we parted ways she looked at me and said, “You are always welcome in Nairobi”. I told her I would love to travel to Africa and learn more about her country and her people, and her face lit up. Whether this was because she was enthusiastic about sharing her culture or because she enjoyed my company, I will never know. What I do know is that in the end, the middle seat I dreaded brought me countless hours of conversation and an understanding of someone new. It gave me the opportunity to meet someone I never would've met if it were not for that transatlantic KLM flight. This experience proved to me that oftentimes the things we dread can bring a positive result.