Economy Seat Syndrome -- more accurately described as Deep Vein Thrombosis (DVT) -- occurs when blood clots form during long periods of immobility. These can be fatal if they enter the heart or lungs, with several reports of deaths among airline passengers. This according to the airlines is not caused by cramped air travel. DVT is one reason I always request an aisle seating assignment on airline flights, particularly long flights. I can get up frequently, stretch my legs into the aisle, and can use at least one armrest without sharing. However, on a recent journey, I had to change my travel reservations on short notice and was only able to get a middle seat for both segments of a trip Atlanta via Paris to Jeddah, Saudi Arabia.

The first leg to Paris was to be a nine-hour flight and after a two-hour layover, the second leg to Jeddah was to be about six hours. I prepared myself mentally to accept the rigors of a middle seat, knowing the size (17 inches wide, 9 inches of space for the face from the seat in front) of an “economy class (guest class) (cheap seat) seat”, with current aircraft seating dimensions and row configurations.

The flight was two hours late departing Atlanta, which I knew would jeopardize my connecting flight in Paris, despite the flight crews assurance of making the time up in the air (assuming there would be a 300 mph tale wind and the plane was capable of warp speed).

Taking my seat, the second seat inside from the in a middle row of five seats, I chatted briefly with a fellow traveling to Bombay via Paris who was in the (my) left aisle seat. To my right an American lady was seated. She was going to Prague. Both were cordial neighbors during the flight even though we often bumped elbows jousting for the armrest.

Once seated in a “guest” class seat, with the seat belt fastened, the feeling is akin to being in an MRI chamber (tube). When the passenger in front reclines the seat, there is about two inches of space for the nose (especially mine) from the back of the seat.The meals are served (threaded) to the middle seat passenger very carefully through the narrow corridor between the rows of seats. Eating the meals requires synchronization between passengers to avoid jostling and spilling food on each other. Passing hot beverages to middle seats is considered to be at the extreme level of hazardous tasks.

After the meal (getting smaller these days with a cookie for dessert) was served and the foil and plastic containers removed (this usually takes longer than the in-flight entertainment), most passengers (night flight) prepared for sleep by again reclining their seats (from rigid upright for eating) into the face of the person in back. As a world traveler/explorer, I am equipped with eye masks and earplugs and usually shed my shoes for comfort. In an aisle seat, removing footwear is not so difficult. The foot can be extended into the aisle. In the middle seat, immobilized by the cramped space, my arms pinned to my side, I must remove my shoes by painfully corkscrewing until I get one finger down to the shoes. I am wearing a pair of walking shoes with Velcro fasteners instead of laces. This makes the one finger shoe removal exercise possible. However, as I try to push the shoes under the seat, the Velcro straps make contact with the nylon socks I am wearing. I push with one foot to free the other and both get caught. I kick and struggle like prey in a spider’s web and after numerous attempts and exhausting effort, manage to free myself from the shoes. I am not sure what my seat neighbors thought of my grunting and panting, as they could not see the action at foot level.

It is a great relief during the nine hour flight, that the Indian gentleman often gets up to take care of personal needs, which allows me to escape from my seat without asking permission. That is another reason I prefer aisle seats. I do not like to ask permission (primary school flash-back), in order to go to the restroom.

As we approach Paris, passengers are requested (commanded) to return to the cocoon, and fasten seatbelts. I decide it is time to put on my shoes. With the dexterity of a mammal skilled in using the feet for performing tasks, I locate my shoes and work them onto my feet. There is no way I am going to be able to fasten the Velcro Straps with one finger.

The two-hour delay in departure from Atlanta has resulted in, surprise, a two-hour delay in the arrival into Paris. Many passengers, including myself, still have faint hope of making connecting flights (perhaps delayed also). As soon as we are allowed to unbelt, we all scramble for carry on baggage and push forward to get off the plane. In the milling and pushing, I do not have time to fasten my shoes on the plane. When I get into the terminal I continue rushing to get from Terminal 1, section 1B to 1F and let the shoes keep flapping. I feel the Velcro straps grabbing at my trousers but ignore the problem. The transit bus to 1F is packed and standing up, I am unable to bend down to reach my shoes.

At terminal IF, I rush directly to the transit desk where I am told my flight is now taxiing down the runway. I asked the ticket agent what could be done to make connections to Jeddah. I am offered departure the next day via Beirut and the airline will provide lodging and meals. I mean who needs a free night in Paris when I can get to work in Jeddah a day early (sarcasm). Using my sophisticated charm and winning smile, I inquire if there are other connections that will allow me to travel to Jeddah today. The agent checks the computer and offers a flight on another airline from Paris to London with a connecting flight to Jeddah (at no additional cost- paying extra to avoid a free night in Paris would really be smart) arriving at midnight.

I am overwhelmed with gratitude at this opportunity to rush to Jeddah and my job. I am instructed to get to Terminal 2 quickly. This is good advice as getting from Terminal 1 to Terminal 2 at Charles de Gaulle Airport is a longer journey than taking the train to the Station Gare Du Nord in Central Paris from the airport. I trek many miles over moving sidewalks, up and down escalators, stairs and ramps just to get to the transit bus to terminal 2. As I make this long journey to the bus, many people I pass give me a big smile including some very attractive ladies. Understandable, as I am wearing my favorite herringbone jacket and a new shirt and tie selected for me by my wife and daughter. I stride along briskly with the confidence of the world traveler I am. It is certainly understandable that people have noticed my poise and demeanor. I graciously return their smiles.

After I am seated on the transit bus, I finally find time to pay attention to my shoes. It is then that I notice I am wearing the shoes on the wrong feet. I had been flapping through Charles de Gaulle like a cartoon duck (poise and demeanor indeed). Fortunately, I have an aisle seat assigned on both flights for the journey to Jeddah. I will check my shoes carefully before I leave the aircraft.