Dan Kois, Slate:
Ding! Instantly the jerk in 11C reclines his seat all the way back. The guy in 12C, his book shoved into his face, reclines as well. 13C goes next. And soon the reclining has cascaded like rows of dominos to the back of the plane, where the poor bastards in the last row see their personal space reduced to about a cubic foot.
Or else there are those, like me, who refuse to be so rude as to inconvenience the passengers behind us.
Like Kois, and like Merlin, I’ll almost never recline my seat, except on long overnight flights where everyone is expected to be asleep.
It’s a tiny, insigificant form of protest, but it’s a small contribution toward reducing the world’s total annoyance. I think of it like social environmentalism.