At first, it seems a blessing neat —
I’m sitting in the aisle seat:
My leg can stretch with room to spare!
An armrest I can hog, not share!
But then “Excuse me” oft repeats
From everyone who finds their seats;
And then from those who leave the row,
Concession stand or loo to go.
The kids will exit, some en masse;
I rise each time to let ’em pass.
The blessing now a curse, to wit:
I find I stand as much as sit.