Simply K

Economy class: humanity’s grand social experiment in patience, posture, and pretending you don’t mind other people’s elbows

Most people fight to sit at the front like it’s first class without the champagne. Me? I sit at the back. The last row. The exile of the aircraft. And I do it on purpose.

Here’s why:

• No one wants to sit next to the rear toilet, which means the two seats beside me are often gloriously empty. Extra room, fewer elbows, and no garam masala body odor 

• Overhead bins are mine, all mine. While everyone else performs Cirque du Soleil with their hand luggage, I casually slide mine in like a gentleman.

• Bathroom proximity. I can stand up and stretch my legs next to it without looking like a lost toddler in the aisle. Yes, there’s the occasional flush symphony, but comfort has its price.

• I leave the plane last. Which means I don’t stand in that grotesque “human sardine” formation near the door pretending to be patient. I stay seated, smug, while the herd stampedes.

• By the time I reach baggage claim, my bag’s already been around the carousel so many times it deserves frequent flyer miles

This strategy is especially satisfying on narrow-body aircraft, where everyone’s so tightly packed it feels like being spooned by strangers and exchanges of bodily fluids are guaranteed. 

So yes, the last row may smell faintly of disinfectant and despair—but it’s also where freedom lives.