Some time ago, on a flight back from LA with Keatley after working on the project above, I found myself wedged between Large Important Guy 1 and Large Well-Dressed Gent 6. Because I was the slimmer of the two, was one of the last to board and found myself sitting in the middle seat of our row, I was left without arm rest space.
When it comes to this unspoken bit of territory, the tension is quite palapable. Its the proverbial elephant in the room next to a patchouli wearing guy/gal that's about to go backpacking through Europe, and he/she is taking your connecting flight to beef up on some zzz's all the while digging youthful knees into the back of your seat.
Better still, I might liken it to the anxiety one feels when out with a few friends and there are 2 of the 6 best hors d'oeuvres you've ever had left on the plate, and you know you've already eaten you're mathematical portion.
I'm pretty non-confrontational, so living in Seattle over the last few years has really honed my passive-aggressive skills to a precision point. That said, in the battle over arm rest rank, I make a strategic seat-back position maneuver to full reclined position as soon as the jet takes off from the runway. This tactic is guaranteed to yield another four inches to any standard arm rest on any arm rest opponent.
Its proven time and again that from this post, you can then take your opponents' rank incrementally through subtle and well-calculated strategic movements and shifts when he/she goes to take a sip of water or turns the page of their reading material.
On another note, the video above is minutes prior to my big debut on Little People Big World. Long story short, I was there to lend location assistance/lighting support again to Mr. Keatley, but there was another photographer there: an Olan Mills portrait photographer to document the 30 odd family members in attendance.
With the filming and production schedule to keep, on top of the fact that these people were genuinely looking to eat dinner, we were all a little pressed for time. The producer informs me that I'm just going to go in and start setting up lights and it might seem that I'm the local Olan Mills photographer's assistant. Which I expressed would be fine, provided I wouldn't be cast in some strange completely-out-of-context light whereby a strobe might misfire, the Olan Mills lady would get snappy and then it'd be some extreme close-up on my face with a boing'ing spring sound effect.