A weekly ode to the joys of moaning about your holiday, by Tim Roxborogh.
George Costanza would certainly do it. I've done it and am a firm believer it shouldn't be a dilemma, let alone the no-go zone it seems to be for most. That is, is it okay to eat the leftover food of the stranger next to you on a plane?
Especially if the packaging hasn't been breached. No breach? Then go for gold! Obviously asking first, of course.
Looking back, it's tormented me the times I've been building up to the question, "Hey, if you're not eating your chicken, do you mind if I do?" And then caved as the crew start regathering the trays. Though they're never regathering just the trays. They're collecting glorious little untouched meals in cute boxes with untorn, unscrunched tinfoil. They're collecting biscuits unfondled, fruit salads unsullied and icecream unlicked. And every time those half-eaten trays are slotted back into the airline trolley, there's a passenger who wishes they'd piped up and asked if they could help out. All of which falls well short of the Seinfeld episode where George was busted eating an eclair out of a rubbish bin. In the words of Jerry Seinfeld himself, if you've ever done that then, "you have crossed the line that divides man and bum. You are now a bum.".
