Travel Ergonomics

Traveling points out many interesting things about human-machine interfaces, doesn't it?

It starts when you load your luggage in the car for the trip to the airport. Your suitcase may roll sweetly as you trundle across the living room, but when you heft that puppy up into the vehicle's cargo bay, you instantly learn whether the designers did a good job with handle placement. You also get a lesson in center-of-gravity physics.

Carrying a laptop bag through miles of airport corridors tells you whether the shoulder strap is well designed. And airport toilet stalls that don't anticipate your need to keep your carry-on off the sticky floor...well, let's just not talk about those.

Then there's the airplane itself. (You know where I'm going with this, don't you? I know it's obvious and overdone, but I'm still saying it.) The seats are designed for Karen Carpenter, but you're more likely to sit next to Mama Cass. Gah. I do understand the need to sardine-pack the aircraft to ensure a profit, what with Dick Chaney raising the cost of jet fuel by causing gulf oil spills and hurricanes and stuff...but couldn't they figure out a system where you'd get to sit next to, say, one Emo Phillips for every Orson Welles? And maybe have an obnoxiousness quota, too -- one Silent Bob as a reward for every Gilbert Gottfried?

OK, I know that I'm a lot like Francis Sawyer, in that I prefer my personal space and privacy. (Please note, though: I prefer the term "introvert" to "psycho".) Perhaps the vast majority of people enjoy meeting Texans who can talk for two hours non-stop about plasticware and medical marijuana...but I'd rather stare out the window and imagine cloud animals.

I guess I learned something, though. I had no idea who made the trays that Holiday Inn Express uses for their delicious cinnamon rolls; and now I do. I also know the difference between "compostable" and "biodegradable"...as well as the difference between "I have pain" and "I wanna get high, man". And though he never came up for air, I have to admit that the fellow was pleasant enough, didn't have B.O. or anything, and had a certain country charm that reminded me of Dennis Weaver.

The fellow on the other side of me was playing some sort of golf game on his iPad. I wondered if his choice of a Lara Croft-ish avatar had any psychological significance, but what interested me more was that he had the Jimi Hendrix double-jointed thumbs thing going on. It made me a little queasy to watch; a person's hands just aren't supposed to bend like that. Ew. I found myself speculating that this gentleman's genetic anomalies made him a very poor golfer on a "real" outdoor course, but gave him an distinct advantage in cybersports.

After catching my connection in Phoenix, I sat next to a guy who claimed he was from San Jose, but didn't know enough local geography to recognize that the ocean wasn't going to be visible out the plane's right side windows at all on this trip, much less while we were over the Rocky Mountains. But he was relatively small and kept his opinions on plasticware to himself, so I have no complaints.

Anyway, the point of all this is that I now have an abrasion on my left elbow, which is what made me decide to write about ergonomics. There are many more machine-interface observations I could make, from adjusting the mirrors in the rental car to wondering how anyone could possibly have short enough legs to set the quad machine that way at the gym...but I'll spare you those. They didn't cause me any physical damage.

I got the elbow wound at my temporary desk at the office. I didn't notice it at the time, but apparently the computer desk was at the exact height to cause my elbow to constantly rub on the desk surface as I typed. I didn't notice, of course, because I become so deeply immersed in my work that I can't take time to notice things like mere loss of blood (or dehydration, or the passage of time, etc.) This intense concentration is what makes me the outstanding employee that I am, and gets me those consistent "Satisfactory" job performance ratings year after year. But it always startles me when I hop into the car after a long day's labor and suddenly notice that I have somehow become damaged.

Sigh. A lesser man would take a day off, or perhaps call a lawyer to bring a worker's compensation suit against the company. But I shall take a deep breath, slap a bandaid upon it, and stoically return to the site where the injury occured, throwing myself headlong into another day of frenzied typing, ergonomics be damned. The offending desk surface shall get no satisfaction from watching me retreat, no sir.

As for other ergonomic challenges encountered during travel, well, there's the hotel pillow designed for Andre the giant in the same room where the showerhead is designed for Billy Barty. There's the lamp knob that cannot be turned without locking pliers, and the fact that the only usable electrical outlet requires moving multiple pieces of furniture. And the mysterious operation of the hotel's Froot Loops dispenser, as well as the various toasters, waffle irons, etc. that are just begging for you to use them to burn yourself. It's a dangerous world when you're away from home.

But the job must be done, and I shall continue to brave these challenges...and will continue to document them here, as a warning to other potential travelers. Wish me luck, my friends, and have a great day!