I like to toss around research-based tips and tricks for living like we mean it… before our pending endings. Usually these tips involve things to do, but today I am going to focus on what to never, ever do.

I have a bone to pick and if you’re the type of person who assumes the armrest on a plane was built especially for you and your arm(s), well then I am going to pick your little arm bones apart—probably with my teeth.

Yes! I am writing this from a plane! So I am super hopped up about this topic right now and my free can of sparkling wine is giving me all the liquid courage I need to finally put a voice to this injustice! We can no longer suffer in silence, us armrest-deprived victims. Worry not—I’m on the case now.

(Arm) Bones. Will. Be. Picked.

And. Buried.

I spend a lot of time on planes for work and I am consistently astounded by two etiquette atrocities that should be considered felonies in the penal code (oh my, “penal code” sounds official! And dirty, right?):

1. Blatant armrest hogging
2. Blatant leg space hogging

You will note the recurring issues with “blatant” (i.e., callous disregard), and “hogging,” (i.e., callous assholery).

I’m not usually interested in genderizing things but since you forced my hand here, 93.75% of the time it’s the boys who blatantly hog the armrest and blatantly hog leg space territory. The non-boy gendered folks are not innocent either, committing these egregious felonies the remaining 6.25% of the time. I do not have a source for these stats so you’re going to have to trust me.

Just a quick visual clarification so we’re all on the same page:

Exhibit A: Here is a photo I found online that makes me shiver. I don’t believe this needs an explanation or a cross examination. The issue is clear, the jury had better come back with a guilty verdict (per 49 U.S.C. § 46506—Crimes aboard aircraft, duh), and both armrest hogs need to be harshly sentenced. The death penalty should not be off the table.

Exhibit B: Here is a real photo I took on October 25, 2025 from a flight leaving Denver. I’m the hapless victim on the left in an aisle seat. The perpetrator on the right, you might notice, is dangling a lot of leg into my territory. And this is after I uncomfortably pushed back with my own appendage! I was grossed out because his knee consequently touched my knee at times (I normally don’t touch knees on the first date), but I had to hold firm or I feared I’d end up sitting in the aisle. Again, crimes aboard aircraft were committed. The jury shouldn’t take long to deliberate this one.

Why do so many men have to sit with their legs splayed apart, infringing on their airline-neighbor’s space? I’m too classy to make a joke about private parts, so I will deliberately refrain from making a joke about private parts that require sooooo much breathing room. BUY AN EXTRA SEAT IF YOU ARE SPORTING AN ANACONDA. (We know there is no anaconda.) (There is just uncouthness.)

I’m going to cut whoever offers the “some people need more leg room” argument right off at the knees; I am six feet tall and know how to keep my legs closed—unless I am pushing back against your roaming leg, at which point I am forced to sit like I ride a horse for a living.

Non-sequitur: what happens when two leg space hogs sit next to one another? Do they knock knees the whole time and just acknowledge that it’s perfectly okay to touch body parts? Or is this what all the air rage is stemming from: leg space turf wars between severely bow-legged men?

I fret in these flight moments because I want to stick up for myself and the rightful space I paid for—the space that should be void of other people’s brazen knee &/or arm wandering—but I also don’t want to say “can you please move your leg &/or arm over” and then sit in awkwardness for 2.75 hours together while I worry about looking like… someone who asserts her needs 😬😳. (Busted.)

Being conflict avoidant is problematic, sure, but so is sitting in the shrapnel of conflict for the duration of a flight. (Also! Relevant back story! Once at a Cirque du Soleil concert I was done with the hand wringing and I asked the [coked up] couple beside us if they could maybe please keep their [boisterously coked-up] conversation down because it was [cokedly obnoxious] a little loud and distracting, and oh did I live to regret that moment of needs assertion. They got all passive aggressive about it and made the second half of the show unbearable, mocking me, and omg I am starting to sweat with the memory of this so I’m just going to stop telling you this story and go back to seething quietly on planes.) (And taking covert pictures of offenders so I can go home and demand sympathy from The Husband.)

So what’s the point?

This is a plea for decency. For basic aeroplane etiquette! Any time you blatantly claim the armrest you are being inconsiderate of the person next to you who’s a) trying to figure out why they lost an armrest power struggle they didn’t sign up for, and b) trying to figure out what to do with all their you-rage.

Any time you sit like a cowboy with a troubling genital rash and your legs stray out of your zone, you are being inconsiderate and your seat mate is struggling to ask you to contain yourself.

I’m not saying I deserve the armrest and you should give it to me. That would be awful! The only reasonable solution is that neither one of us can use the armrest. As tempting as it looks, it’s no longer meant to be functional because we can’t handle it. It’s meant to draw a line of civility between us. We are allowed to accidentally bump up against it but our elbows cannot rest upon it. We can consider exceptions for the elderly and infirm down the road.

So on your next flight, draw an imaginary line between your seat and your neighbor’s—on the floor, in the air, in 3-flipping-D. If your knee wanders over to their zone, you should be arrested upon arrival at your destination. If their arm wanders into your armrest territory, they should be detained. The proposed air travel civility law is clear.

I am not worried about being handcuffed after deplaning. Are YOU? I promise to not take your picture as a personal-space hog (and post it to a repeat offender blog I swear to goodness I’ll start, with your face on it) if you promise to not hog personal space. That’s fair, right?

Okay thanks for the rant. Now let’s all keep our body parts to ourselves… or fly on this plane from now on: