How much do I care?

I'm sitting here at the airport, waiting for the passengers from the previous flight to disembark from the plane I will board in ten minutes. To my right is the line to board the plane in the first boarding group. To my left is a short but growing line of people also in my boarding group.

Between these two lines is a woman with sense. She recognized the people sitting in the chairs by the window were actually in the first boarding group line. Rather than walk down the aisle between these rows of chairs, one of which my butt is sitting, she has chosen to stand at the end of the row of chairs, forcing everyone else who shows up for this boarding group to line up behind her.

And that line is growing.

Yet, there are empty seats around me.

Looking at the other boarding lines, I realize the flight will be full and even if I board at the and of the first group, I will get a good seat, one where I am on the aisle and can get up to use the lavatory, without interupting my temporary travelling companion's sleep. Or game. Or reading.

I am tempted to gather my two bags, my two very heavy bags, and move farther to my right, allow these people access to these empty chairs around me.

I stand up to move down a seat.

But, to do so means I jump in line in front of the other passengers around me, the ones who were here before I was and who should have earlier dibs on the good seats, than I.

I sit back down in my original seat.

Yet, is there really any difference between row 14 and row 15? Do I care if the ten people to my immediate left board before I do?

Maybe I do. I stand up.

Maybe I really don't. I sit back down.

The woman at the end of the row of chairs watches me, amused. She doesn't move.

No. No, I really don't care. The flight lands at the same time, whether I'm in row 12, 17 or 25, as long as I have an aisle row.

Any other row, and the flight takes an eternity.