The airline I take to Toronto is one of those small start-ups, the kind with the little regional planes. I always get seated next to the propeller, which is a real pain what with the noise and all. Being able to see those thin blades also makes me think about what a thin line it is between flying and falling to our deaths.
There’s a giant of a man sitting next to me too.
What is the etiquette on sharing an arm-rest? I always think it’s so rude to hog an entire one.
You can kind of lean your elbow against the side of it, but there’s an invisible line right between our seats, and I don’t want your fleshy arm poking into me. You could also use some deodorant. I feel a little bad thinking this. The man is huge. It can’t be comfortable for him to fly with his knees all pushed up against the seat in front. Flying is one of the few times I’m grateful to be just shy of 5 foot 1.
We’re landing. It’s pretty rocky. Is it always this rocky? Damn you propellers.
We bump our way onto a little island just off of Toronto. Flying into Canada is a treat for me. The people are quiet and orderly, you almost never hear a raised voice or a complaint. If anything, you’ll hear a chorus of “sorry!” and “after you!” and “let me help you with that, eh?” as we deplane. The customs officers are friendly and they say “welcome home,” something that still warms my heart to hear. It’s a pretty far cry from rough and tumble Boston.
A little ferry takes us on the world’s shortest ferry ride: 5 minutes and we’re docking under the shadow of the CN Tower. Once the tallest building in the world, it’s looking a little tired today. Its grey concrete spire looks washed out against the saturated colors of the sky. Never mind though, it’s just nice to be home.
This post is part of the Arriving/ Leaving series.
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By River
Tags: Toronto travel

3 Comments
I hate those puddle-jumper planes, too! I had this crazy experience once on a flight from Boston to New York- it was a little stormy outside, and there was a lot of turbulence. Because the plane was so small, there was a lot of noise and a lot of weird rattles, it wasn’t exactly relaxing. To make matters worse, the guy sitting next to me leaned over to me during a period of particularly intense turbulence and said “I actually work for the company that makes these engines….they’re not supposed to sound like that.” Are you kidding me? Who says that?!
On this same flight, I noticed as we were approaching La Guardia, there were cars on the ground that were going faster than us. My new rule- never travel in a plane that travels as slow as a Honda Civic.
My lifelong observations have led me to the conclusion that most men think that the armrest is their right because they’re (often) bigger. But sometimes I want to rest my arms! Here’s my confession: when I’m next to an armrest hogger, and they move their arm to take a drink or scratch an itch or whatever, I swoop in and claim the territory.
Haha! I’m the same way. I get very passive aggressive and start watching the armrest and strategically inching my arm or elbow across the armrest. And yes, the moment the other person shifts, I get in there.