Dancing in My Seat

A few years back, I was on my way to visit my parents in Würzburg. I had arrived in Frankfurt early in the morning after a mostly sleepless flight, made it through passport control and customs without delay, boarded my train while helping two elderly women with their luggage, and picked the first empty window seat in an almost empty car. As I was making myself comfortable, one more passenger came into the car and sat down on the seat right next to me—despite the car being almost empty. Weird. Also annoying. But whatever! I cranked up the club music coming through my over-the-ear headphones. Shanon was singing “Let the music play!” I was tapping my feet to the rhythm of that big fat electronic beat. “Let it play!”

That was clearly unacceptable to my seat neighbor. By the time we reached Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof, a mere ten minutes later—the tribal chants were unmistakably Danny Tenaglia’s “Ohno!”—he was so exasperated by my leg movements that he yelled at me, in German, before I had breakfast, after a transatlantic flight. “Ohno!” He yelled at me. Not asking me, but ordering me: Stop moving! Sit still! In German, before I had breakfast, after a mostly sleepless, transatlantic flight. With an arm-hand gesture as grand and sweeping as the space between two rows in second class would allow, I invited him to move to any of the many open seats. See those two empty seats across the aisle? Why don’t you move over there? But he demurred. Something about this being his pre-assigned, his very own reserved seat. And so he planted his flag right there. On that seat. “Ohnonono!”

Big mistake. Huge mistake. Quite possibly, one of the worst mistakes of his entire life. Not only did he piss me off, when I was overtired and hence suitably disinhibted. He had also revealed a considerable weakness that I could exploit, that I would exploit. Worse for him, it didn’t take any effort on my part. All I had to do was more of what I was already doing. Listen to the music. I recognized those electronic bell sounds floating above the beat: Nitro Deluxe’s “Let’s get brutal!” Dance to the music. From then on, I wasn’t merely tapping my feet. I was intentionally moving my entire body to the rhythm of the beat. I was dancing in my seat. “Let’s get brutal!” Indeed.

And my seat neighbor? Having planted his flag on the seat next to me, he was committed to the cause of staying put. Big mistake. Huge mistake. Quite possibly, one of the worst mistakes of his entire life. Harlequin Fours’ sexy beats added urgency to Barbara Tucker’s call to “Set it off!” Listen to the music. Yet he was stubbornly committed to remaining in the seat right next to me, the one person who had motivation, opportunity, and ability to make him miserable. “Set it off to the left!” Dance to the music. He didn’t budge. He stayed put. “Set it off to the right!” He stayed in that seat for the full hour plus it took to get to Würzburg. Even though I wasn’t just annoying him, I was enraging him. Even though the train car had plenty of open seats. “Set it off!”

It was only after the conductor announced our impending arrival in Würzburg that he furiously bolted for the doors, much to my satisfaction and the merriment of the elderly women, who had witnessed the proceedings all along and could not believe his self-inflicted, absolute defeat. Alas, the answer to the question “am I the asshole?” is a resounding yes! And with that realization, I queued up Patrick Cowley’s divine remix of Donna Summer’s “I feel love!” and leisurely exited right behind him, smiling at his hateful stare. “Ooh, it’s so good. Ooh, heaven knows. Ooh, I feel love!” ❤️‍🔥