I’m in a middle seat. This is my third middle seat in four days.

You know, it’s not so terrible being in a center seat when your seat mates are polite and courteous. However, my flight this afternoon had me sitting next an armrest hog, who felt it necessary to repeatedly elbow me in the ribs to give him room to underline in his Bible. He was studying Galatians, I think. His Bible was in Spanish, so my normal powers of detection were inhibited.

He gave me a little card near the time we landed. It invited me to take some guy named Jesus into my heart. How did he know? Maybe it was my unwillingness to hang out into the aisle to give him more room.

After a moment, I thought to have some reply cards made up to point out the equal validity of the Flying Spaghetti Monster. I probably won’t, though. Still, isn’t there quite a hateful message in proselytizing some seat mate whom you never took the effort to strike up a conversation?

Now, riding the middle out to San Francisco, I’m behind a guy who has punished his chair something fierce. He’s dropped into it several times with his full weight, and the entire seat frame has twisted and warped. Of course, you KNOW that he has banged the seat back against the tracks several times to get every millimeter out of the recline.

The person directly behind me has kicked, kneed and shoved my seat back so regularly that one wonders if they’re engaged in an aerobics program. I call the seat’s occupant a person, but quite frankly I don’t know that to be the case. It could be some dragon like monster wrestling to free itself from the confinement that some long dead wizard trapped it into.

Still, it’s cheap. I mean, astonishingly cheap. I guess that’s quite all right, because paying more for a better seat does not assure one of freedom from this bizarre dominating behavior. I considered paying to upgrade to a better seat, but then eyeballed the other 134 persons prepared to board with me.. They weren’t so desperate as to hang off if the wings, but it was rather disturbing.

This experience of course starts with “security”. Having been through security a few times in the last few days, I am convinced that the problem isn’t really with the TSA. The problem is with passengers who aren’t paying attention, aren’t prepared, are belligerent and generally making the experience more unpleasant than it need be.

This isn’t quite unique to air travel, of course. The same hostility, aggression and competitive inattention is present each day that I pilot my Buick to such exotic locales as the UPS store, or the university.

Is there any empirical data in the behavior of the masses over time? Or, is it just that there are so many more of us angling to get two ahead in the line.

One of the most memorable and startling “star trek” episodes had Jim Kirk kidnapped by a society so desperately overpopulated that they could no longer function. A blood born illness Kirk carried was their only solution. Occasionally, their deception failed and Kirk saw the heaving mobs of unhappy people – totally trapped and unable to exercise any choice.

Are the situations analogous?

So, Travel to Tulsa for Holidaze Ver. 2.01 involved another white steed, and no snow this year.

Last year, you may recall, was the week long Lexus test drive of the white HS250h called “The Turd”, which carried me faithfully up and back. The blizzard that struck Christmas Eve day made tire-d transportation treacherous, but the Turd traveled me homeward from Tulsa without much distress.

This year, I road the roads with my 1998 Buick Riviera, which is much like applying a hot steam iron to wrinkled cotton. Everything is smoothed out.

As I was preparing for the trip, I noticed that it’s a whole lot more fun to think about travel when one is free to pack Costco-sized shampoo and still avoid paying baggage check fees.

My Buick beaut wasn’t at all dismayed by the computer bag, the train case, and the oh so retro (and now given over to Goodwill) mustard yellow vinyl Samsonite that came into my world a few weeks back.

I was saving Samsonite for the Tulsa trip, primarily that I could vex my law school buddy Tracey with its unique charm and aroma. After a wry look was wrangled from his familiar puss, the smelly Samsonite would not be long for this world.

In addition to my necessaries, there were the two boxes of “stuff” I was taking to Tracey that he could eBay post-holiday. There was a paper grocery bag stuffed with breads and fruitcakes. There was the subwoofer, the box of flares and automotive supplies, the wheely cart thing I have bungeed to the side of the trunk, and the squeege.

There was plenty of room for more.

The inside of the car was free of luggage, save for the trappings of modern day travel – MP3 player, smart phone, USB flash drive with music, thermal coffee mug, sunglasses, cables, headphones, headset…

Just about $100 in gasoline was consumed in transporting all of this stuff to and from Tulsa.

Nine hours driving up and nine hours driving back.

The universal comment? “OhmyGOD – why didn’t you just FLY?”

Well, what would I have gained by flying?

Flight time from HOU to TUL? About 90 minutes. Plus about a half hour on the plane after they close the boarding door. And, about a half hour sitting on the plane or standing on line to board the plane. An hour or more to reach the boarding line through security. A cushion of thirty minutes to account for long baggage check lines. Thirty minutes to park the car, if I haven’t been brazen enough to ask someone for a drop off. Thirty to forty-five minutes travel TO the airport.

Each way.

Nearly five hours of far more stressful travel as compared to nine hours of peaceful, let me listen to my new audio book, gorged luggage solitude.

How much seat pitch did I have? Well, I had a big, comfy, cushy leather throne, with climate completely at my control. No screaming babies. No one reclining straight into my lap. No one fighting me about the armrest. If I needed to use the pot, I just pulled over at any one of a myriad of service stations or rest areas and peacefully pursue peeing. No standing on line while the floor rises and falls beneath me.

My seat reclined, pushed back into my lumbar region, heated itself at my command.

Did I mention that there were not screaming babies, no people behind me using my backrest to pull themselves up, no one stepping on my feet to get past me, no one shoving my stuff in the overhead into a corner….

Yes, it’s true – I spent twice the time traveling there. But, recall – I spent $100 on fuel.

The best airfare I could get HOU-TUL was right at $425 round trip. Parking would have added another $45. Bag check would have been another $50, and I’d not have been able to drag the eBay stuff with me – so another $30 for shipping that.

Call it $500. Plus, a complete stripping away of my dignity, privacy and comfort.

Airlines, just so you know, I’m still all in love with you and your business and big, throbbing, shiny jets. I just have to say though, that the experience now generally sucks worse than spending a night in lock up, and it’s no fun anymore.

My big ol’ Buick is going to be rollin’, rollin’, rollin’ through 2011 as a result.