This method is more common than you probably realize. The man in seat 42E looks confused. I’ve just leaned across and asked him to pass my water bottle to “that woman” in 42F. He glances at my wife, Cece, then back at me, piecing it together. “Do you want to switch seats?” he asks, already half-standing. We’re barely five minutes into a long-haul Melbourne to Dallas flight. We politely decline, and he settles back in, uncertain. We’ve been doing a “seat divorce” on flights for several years.