Men and travel: the good, the bad, the ugly, and the manspread of it all
I'm finally in London (yahhh!) for my master's course in 18th century studies at King's College, a dream of place I've long wanted to be. Yet, I cannot help but wince a bit when I think of the awkward journey that got me here, one which both amuses and infuriates me if I dwell too hard on it. First, when travelling alone, ladies do appreciate a man's help in lugging our bags, i.e. putting them overhead on the airplane. However, this unfortunately seems to be a dying art with men complaining of things like "back injuries" and "sore hamstring". These are the same men who think nothing of lifting what appears to be a five-pound sandwich into their mouths with their fat fingers and throwing back a pint of beer during a football match. Second, these same men make travel painful because of both their girth and sense of entitlement, the latter of which is the infuriating part (I'm not skinny, so forgive them their extra poundage). I am talking a...