And the airplane armrest! The great demilitarized zone of the sky. You get on the plane, you find your seat, and then it begins. The subtle elbow nudge. The slow, inch-by-inch creep. Who owns it? Is it first come, first served? Is there a treaty I don’t know about? It’s like a tiny, airborne Cold War happening right between two strangers. You can’t just *ask* for it. That breaks the unspoken rules. You have to *win* it. It’s an unspoken battle of wills, and frankly, I’m just trying to watch my movie, not engage in geopolitical negotiations at 35,000 feet.
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