The busiest travel week of the year is upon us. I myself am going no farther than western Lakewood for Thanksgiving but since many of you will be jetting about to family and friends, it seems a good time to discuss this.

I was flying to New York for a quick visit, three days in the big city to catch up with a friend, see a couple of shows, and take in the recently renovated and re-opened Museum of Modern Art.  Even though New York is sort of a foreign country, this was a domestic flight.  Smoking or non-smoking seating hasn’t been an issue on intra-American trips for years.  It never occurred to me to request a seat in the no-garlic section.

Later in the day it might not have mattered as much, but this was an early morning flight, requiring me to leave for the airport earlier than early and to get up even earlier than that.  I’d had four hours of sleep, only one cup of coffee and no breakfast.  Feeling somewhat less than prime, I found myself seat-belted in place before the sunrise, surrounded on all sides by an extended family of an ethnicity other than my own.

On my left, a young man studied a graphic design textbook.  Behind me sat his neatly-dressed mother and little brother.  One row forward was the grandmother and across the aisle, a sister and the father.  They were pleasant and soft-spoken, and little brother didn’t kick the back of my seat.  But these lovely people - I am trying to be culturally sensitive here - did not eat Kellogg’s cornflakes for breakfast that day.  These lovely people all reeked of garlic.

I had no lunch to lose – or breakfast – so I was spared that indignity but it was not a pleasant flight for me, there amidst the olfactory evidence of a meal liberally laced with the stinking lily.  From our pre-dawn boarding to touch-down one hour and 48 minutes later, I turned progressively greener about the gills.  Never before has Newark Airport looked so good to me.

I am not unbendingly garlic-adverse.  I have made that 40-clove garlic roasted chicken many times and I’ve discovered a simple cream cheese spread doctored with garlic and blue cheese that wins me raves every time I take it to a party.  I like garlic.  I wouldn’t dream of stir-frying without it.  In its place, garlic is a very good thing.  The breakfast of people sitting around me on a 7 a.m. flight just isn’t that place.

We in Ohio have finally eliminated non-smoking seating in restaurants by eliminating smoking in restaurants.  Now that that’s accomplished, we can move on to divvying restaurants into children/no-children areas.  I think there might be a lot of support for that.

I’d like no-moth-balls seating at the symphony, too.  I once got a spectacular headache sitting next to someone who must have just taken her coat out of storage.  Mozart is not enhanced by the fragrance of naphthalene.  And in church, direct me to the non-whispering pews, please.

I’m definitely in favor of cordoning movie theatres into talking and non-talking sections.  I’m well beyond weary of listening to some idiot behind me offering a play-by-play of the action, as if the film were a sports contest.   As for those who repeatedly ask their companions, “What did he say??” from the opening titles to the closing credits, maybe they could consider waiting for the flick to come out on video and just watch it at home.

While the airlines no longer ask us to choose smoking or non-smoking, the question they do still ask is “window or aisle?”  This is more complex than opting for smoking or non-smoking.  In that case, it’s only your lungs you have to think about.  Window or aisle is about much more than just where you sit on the plane.  The decision requires you to consider your bedrock philosophy of life.

Window?  You can see beyond the confines of the small cabin, observe the power of nature and the beauty of the larger world.  A window seat offers you unlimited horizons.  Who wouldn’t want that?  Of course it’s a hassle if you have to get out of your seat during the flight, and again when you want to get back in.  Unless you’re willing to annoy the other people in your row, you’re really sort of trapped in there.  Some of us just don’t want to trouble anyone.

Aisle?  This is your choice if you’re ready for action.  Aisle-seat sitters don’t accept constraints.  They’re not interested in the role of spectator and they’re ready for a fast-getaway.  Freedom of movement has its charms.  But it’s a trade-off.  You’re not blocked in but you lose the wider view.

Neither satisfies me.  I want a third option.  Why can’t I have an aisle seat with a window?  Would that be too much to ask?  Give me a no-garlic aisle seat with a window.  Or a window seat on the aisle.  Either will do.  I’m not fussy.  And I’d be willing to pay extra, so long as the no-garlic clause is iron clad.