Few in‑flight behaviours spark as much quiet irritation as seat squatting: the moment a traveller slips into a seat they haven’t been assigned, hoping no one will notice.
It’s a small act, often done with a shrug and a smile, but it sits at the centre of a much bigger conversation about comfort, choice and the economics of modern air travel.
Seat‑squatting has grown in step with the rise of paid seat selection. As airlines increasingly unbundle fares, the seat you want – or the seat next to the person you’re travelling with – often comes with a fee attached. Many passengers decline to pay, then board to find themselves separated from companions or wedged into a middle seat.
The temptation to “self‑correct” once the cabin doors close is strong. Some quietly slide into an empty aisle; others eye up the exit row; a bold few attempt a casual drift into premium cabins before being redirected.
Airlines, however, are far from amused. Their stance is consistent: the seat you’re assigned is the seat you occupy unless crew approve a change. There are two reasons for this. The first is safety. Cabin crew need an accurate seating plan for weight‑and‑balance calculations and emergency procedures. A passenger swapping into an exit row without approval, for example, can create real operational issues.
The second reason is commercial. Seat selection fees are now a significant revenue stream. Allowing passengers to help themselves to better seats undermines a carefully structured system designed to offer choice at a price. From an airline’s perspective, if one person “upgrades themselves,” others will follow, and the entire model collapses.
Passengers, of course, see it differently. For many, seat‑squatting is less rebellion and more pragmatism: a desire for comfort, a hope that an empty seat is fair game, or a belief that if no one challenges them, no harm is done. In an era where flying can feel increasingly transactional, it’s also a small attempt to reclaim a sense of control.
Still, the industry’s message is unwavering. If you want certainty, pay for it. If you gamble, expect to be moved and if you’re tempted to slip into a premium cabin for a better view or a quieter ride, remember: someone has paid for that privilege and the crew almost certainly knows who.