One of the many great mysteries in my life is the airplane exit row.
Time was that nearly anyone could select an exit row seat, no questions asked. Which was worrisome, although I doubt many of us considered it. After all, with the exception of the pilot, is there a potentially more critical role on the plane than that of the exit row passenger? Sure, 99.99999% of the time, the exit row passenger has zero responsibility other than enjoying the extra legroom. But what about that one-in-a-million flight where suddenly the plane unexpectedly falls out of the sky? While most of us are holding hands, writing our wills or frantically skimming the information card we’d ignored at take-off, we’ll need the cool, collected wisdom of the exit row occupants to remove doors, put rafts in water, help us exit the plane, and basically just be our own personal Jesuses. Just like we wouldn’t want any random person piloting the plane without at least reviewing their credentials, we should also want some assurances that the people sitting in the exit rows are likely to help us in the event of an emergency.
Thankfully, someone somewhere in the airline industry had the revelation that maybe they should educate the exit row volunteers. Today, flight attendants at least take the precaution of ensuring that each exit row attendee is aware of their responsibilities by asking, “In exchange for your extra legroom, are you okay risking death to help all these other passengers off the plane in the unlikely event of an emergency? If so, please give me a verbal ‘yes.'”
This is decidedly better. Because now if the plane has a crash landing, at least those passengers seated in the exit row are aware that they should be helping other people before they leap out the emergency exit.
But have we come far enough?
Shouldn’t it be the passengers not seated in the exit row who decide whether someone seems suitable enough to be in such a critical seat?
Recently my family was passing through TSA when a tall middle-aged man literally shouldered his way to the front of the line, pushed other people’s bags out of the way to grab his luggage as it emerged from the belt, and then hurried on his way to the gate like some bipedal bull from hell. Several of us exchanged looks — who does this guy think he is? — before one woman said, “Well, that was something.” Is that the type of person we want sitting in an exit row in the event of an emergency? Isn’t that the type of exit row passenger the rest of us should be allowed to veto?
Imagine that as the plane taxied toward the runway, the flight attendant announced: “We need your attention. Now, there is only a one in a million chance this will be required, but in an emergency your very life may depend on the actions of these 12 people seated in the exit rows. So, this person here who muscled past three of you to board the plane, and this other passenger who stuffed his oversized backpack and giant suitcase in the last bit of space in the overhead bin, and this fellow wearing massive headphones while avoiding all eye contact, will all be expected to calmly assist you off the plane in the event of burning jet fuel, explosions and deafening screams. Are these the people who you want to see in these seats? Cast your votes!”
In life, we are asked to vote for such silly things. ASB Treasurer. HOA President. Unopposed sixth-term judges. Shouldn’t we also vote for potential life-altering roles such as exit row candidates?
There will always be a certain percentage of self-absorbed jerks in the world. The ones who will continue to make our lives extra challenging at times. But at least give us the opportunity to keep them out of our airplane exit rows. Our lives may depend on it.
