The Inconvenience Of Generosity

Wedged between the exit door and the sweaty distended flesh of a severely overweight seat mate, in an overcrowded airplane with air conditioning faintly puffing out soft warm air bursts in a gratuitous gesture of courtesy, but fresh out of cool air, I found my generosity slipping out of reach along with the seatbelt that seemed miles away from my restricted stretch-capability and far too deeply buried beneath bellies and butts to recover. In that brief moment when an additional half of a swollen body spilled over into my seat from the adjacent seat before I could pull down the armrest guillotine to prevent the discomfort and loss of circulation I foresaw as I peered sheepishly over my electronic magazine, I felt disgust at my unsuccessful attempt to wave off unwanted company with the “glance and look away” move I had perfected on so many other flights. From the moment the extra seat belt extension clicked shut, locking us both into the same space like reverse Siamese twins; born separately but adjoined against our will in adulthood, through a botched surgical experiment, I knew we’d prove incompatible at some point and I envisioned an hour-long slap fight all the way back to Atlanta (but at least, I figured, I’d have my right hand to slap with if I was able to move it). The flight attendant surrendered a glance over to see if my seatbelt was on and sighed in empathy and with an almost tearful look she symbolically excused my violation of all aviation protocols with a nod and a genuflect-like motion; wishing me well and praying the extra weight wouldn’t complicate the plane’s ballast at the same time. She either gave me a pass or gave up trying to see past the mounds of gelatinous flesh to verify my safety. I’m sure she instinctively knew, I wasn’t safe.
Not long after we reached optimum altitude my personal space war expanded from another front as the over-exhausted 90-pounder in front of me pressed to maximize the comfort in her economy comfort seat, closing in the only real free space in my shrinking sovereignty and crushing my extended knees in the process. Her short legs couldn’t have possibly needed stretching and I was sure the 2.5 inches she was able to recline was only designed to discourage tall people from flying and not to make short people more comfortable; in fact it would probably leave her with neck cramps and ultimately a bill for chiropractic services. My passive-aggressive plan of attack on both fronts was to make jerking movements in any direction to get maximum friction and then make loud grunting sounds to call attention to the fact that their selfish need for comfort was becoming a major source of inconvenience for me. If I was going to be uncomfortable, I wasn’t going there alone but as long as I could bare the restriction I was determined to grunt and grind until the friction blew the lid off my manners.

I slipped into a temporary dream-state, possibly through a lack of oxygen but it wasn’t long before the need to adjust left me motionless, overheated and awake against my will for the remainder of the flight. Something was bound to set this potential confrontation into full-contact karate if I couldn’t soon stretch my cramping extremities. Fortunately the duration of my flight was long enough for me to contemplate the inconvenience of generosity and it may seem like a crazy metaphor but in the discomfort of my feelings of entitlement I realized my reaction to this situation was in direct conflict with my morning prayer ritual, my morning scripture reading and was not in line with the image of the person I claimed to be. As I contemplated the inconvenience of it all I guess I had imagined there would be a more comfortable time for me to show compassion, patience and self control. I thought everyday kindness was going to be the answer; giving when I saw need and helping people along the way. I thought I was making progress but I really wasn’t. I closed my eyes in a prayer for clarity and when the beef I had turned into lamb I laid down my anger and disgust and in embarrassment I felt the sting of what it must have felt like to be the target of everyone’s indignation. I realized that my signature “glance and look away” move was the same move everyone did to signal that they did not want to be seated next the person seated next to me and the guillotine seat divider was everyone’s rightful defense against the unwanted inconvenience of obesity. As I noticed that she had never actually faced me or looked directly at me I realized that she was used to only being seen as an obstacle to someone else’s comfort; an outlet for justifiable ridicule. Anyone would have agreed that there were hundreds of options she could have chosen earlier in life, to avoid this path to open public scrutiny; none of which were available at that moment; and, of course, there were more than a thousand acceptable prejudices we all pre-concluded about her character. I was quite pleased with myself for not completely going off the deep end as I felt justified to do. After all, I had probably been nicer to the lady sitting next to me than anyone she had previously squeezed into a seat with but the challenging mandate to the prayer I had just prayed was not just being nice; not just feeling sorry for the person but loving them enough to consider what they may be going through. Not exchanging pleasantries but loving them enough not to make the situation worse for them. Not just giving up my entitlement but forgoing it as a matter of humility, for the convenience and comfort of someone else; at the expense of my own. How am I doing with that? It’s not something I can do, but God can and He has, and I’m slightly better for it!

“Therefore, as the elect of God, holy and beloved, put on tender mercies, kindness, humility, meekness, longsuffering; bearing with one another, and forgiving one another, if anyone has a complaint against another; even as Christ forgave you, so you also must do. But above all these things put on love, which is the bond of perfection.” Colossians 3:12-14 (NKJV)

Photo credit to Patrick Hendry