The Seat

Assignment - Doha

Thanks to the generosity of the Qatar Government my assignment in Doha was to be Business Class all the way – which left me with one undying memory of Emirates Business Class – ‘the seat’. 

This was no ordinary seat – not one of those Slumberland Posturepeadic futons they lever you into in Qantas’ cattle class – Oh No!  This seat had more body hugging bumps than a F1 racing car and everything was electronic.

There was the touch screen video that was bigger than my home TV. Then there was what I called the touch screen ‘fat controller box’ due to its rather bulky size and a remote type device that also doubled as a phone. All three could be used to select entertainment, communicate or play games. But the fat controller box could adjust your seat ‘any which way but up’ to quote Clint Eastwood.

Not only that one could turn on vibrators in the head, back, bum and legs to massage you into submission – of course there were options to zigzag all over your body, wave through it or simply pulse you all over.  My sympathy goes out to all loaves of bread!

Of course, there was some bulky cushioned noise cancelling headphones too – so with three units wired into your seat it was a bit like spaghetti junction – and that was just the right hand arm which also had a folding mini table for you drinks.

For eating however, one needed to get out the ‘big’ table from its spring loaded housing in the left arm. Once released it was like a wild dervish and could easily slice of an ear. Then the battle ensued with the universal joint and a release button to get the b……. thing to lay flat – not easy once the seat had been positioned ready for a space shot. 

Amazingly, experimenting with the endless combinations of seat positions, massage environments and so on the person behind didn’t feel a thing due to the cocoon arrangement of each seat – not that they would have noticed being in the midst of being shut up like a clam phone or extended and stretched like some medieval rack themselves. 

Needless to say after much experimentation with legs akimbo, back arched like Sydney Harbour Bridge and ones entire body shuddering under the combined effect of twenty electronic fingers whilst totally immersed in Perry Como’s ‘Fly me to the Moon’ the b…... hostess appears from somewhere over my right thigh and ‘silently’ mouths to me Dinner – Steak or Omlette?

If I could just remember where I had seen the seat’s memory recall button that promised to return my seat in an instant to a position that might just support some fine dining rather than some gynaecological exploratory work I would have taken her up on her offer of ..... ugh .... Cake?

Project Lesson 4: Read what Naisbett said about always ensuring that you balance High Tech. with High Touch.