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A tall, white-haired fella stopped, smiled, and pointed at the center seat to my left. As I looked up at him—way up—I decided Tall Man was my inverse. I’m 5’ 6” and he had to be 6’ 5”.
Someone else may have offered this gent the roomier seat. However, with a 4-hour flight on the horizon, I decided to maintain ownership of my exit-row, aisle spot. Selfish me.
Tall Man signaled me to stay put and then stepped over me with ease. Moments later, the “Why were you in NYC?” conversation began …