This is my little safe heaven, my special place to drift away with the purring of the of the roaring engines right next door. Before truly enjoying my exit seat, it can be a little intimidating when the flight attendants ask in a very serious manner if those in these special seats are willing and able to help p out in the event of an emergency. While of course I am happy to help (regardless of what my seat assignment is) the choice of the exit row is quite selfish: more room. Maybe subconsciously, it could be a survival mode, a total” me out of here first” attitude I know that is mean but the truth is I can’t envision petite and weak little me, opening and handling that exit door on my own. I could surprise myself and actually handle them with ease and grace (not that I want to find out). I have been fortunate to never have given it a shot 2 million miles later, but those doors not only look heavy but also hard to push up and open.
Truth be told I’d rather get up in the front of the cabin than be on an exit row where the seats don’t really recline and for some reason it is the coldest seat in the plane.
Thinking about it a little more, I would be reluctant to opening the emergency exit door to a set of unknowns.
In any case, optimistic as I am, I am sure I will never have to operate these doors. I will continue using the exit row as my personal escape, my mind’s retreat on my way back home as a cuddle up in my wool socks and sweater and enjoy the cup of tea the flight offers me to endure the Siberia of the skies. Once I am done admiring the planet from up above, all I need besides my imagination is a good read.