Opinion: To sit or not to sit?

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The EMU resides at the heart of campus. I often stop by between classes to grab a cup of coffee or some lunch and begin the day’s work. If I wish to escape the hustle and bustle of the fishbowl, I’ll find a quiet corner upstairs in which to sit. When I find myself wandering to the second floor on the northeast side of the EMU, I’m always struck by The Big Chair. At about 8 feet tall, The Big Chair is the focal point of the room. I don’t know what its purpose is, or why it’s so comically large. All I know is that its very presence unsettles me, and I don’t think I’m the only one who feels this way.
On paper, The Big Chair has everything going for it. It’s the perfect place to work and is likely the most comfortable spot in the whole EMU. Intuitively, it seems like students should all clamber for a spot on the chair. There should be a long line and arguments breaking out about whose turn it is to sit in it.
But more often than not, The Big Chair remains empty, even as the less comfortable chairs in the EMU begin to fill up. On multiple occasions, I have seen every seat and table taken in the room except for The Big Chair. When people wander into the room, rather than claim The Big Chair, they turn around and walk the other direction. In fact, the more people in the room the less likely there will be someone sitting in The Big Chair. Even when people do sit in The Big Chair, they seem hesitant to commit and instead opt to sit only on the ottoman. Why?
Maybe people think there is something wrong with the chair. Maybe they see The Big Chair empty and think that if no one else is sitting in it, there must be a reason. Maybe they assume that it’s uncomfortable or dirty or there’s some sort of problem with it that everyone else knows, but that they have missed the memo on.
My personal theory is that people view sitting in The Big Chair as a rude or attention seeking gesture. People neglect The Big Chair for the same reason that they refuse the last slice of pizza or cake at a social gathering. To sit in The Big Chair is to make a statement. It is to say, “I deserve The Big Chair,” because if you sit in The Big Chair, that means that others can not. Those who abstain from The Big Chair do so to be polite, yes. But they also do so to avoid the judgment of others. No one wants to seem rude or entitled. This is not helped by The Big Chair’s resemblance to a throne. The person who decides to sit in The Big Chair has, in a visual sense, crowned themselves ruler. The chair’s enormous size leaves the sitter dwarfed by comparison, inviting onlookers to laugh at the person’s belief that they could, in fact, be worthy of such an honor.
I dream of sitting in The Big Chair. But when I envision myself sitting in the chair, I can clearly imagine the thoughts and opinions of onlookers. “Who does she think she is, sitting in The Big Chair?” I imagine them thinking.I can see all the eyes in the room fixed on me, and I can hear their laughter at my entitlement. So instead, when I see that The Big Chair is empty, I decline to sit in it. Sometimes, I stare longingly at it, envisioning the comfort I would feel if I were to lean against the back of the chair and stretch out my legs.
Other times I avert my eyes. I don’t want to be reminded of my own cowardice. I have always wanted to sit in The Big Chair, and it would be so easy to do so. Still, I refuse. This fills me with a sense of shame. How often can I say that I have exactly what I want, right there in front of me?  If I can’t seize what I desire, even when it is so ripe for the taking, how am I supposed to accomplish the more difficult goals I have for myself?
Seeing The Big Chair empty is a visual representation of all the dreams that go unfulfilled. The empty chair is the boy in class you liked but never asked out because you feared rejection. It’s the promotion you never applied for because you assumed you wouldn’t get it. It’s the time your favorite song came on and you didn’t sing along because you didn’t want to look stupid.
It was a little humiliating to hoist myself up onto the huge ottoman and then crawl on my hands and knees to the back of the chair, but I did it. Now that I’m here leaning back against the soft fabric, I feel at peace. I feel powerful. I feel satisfied that I didn’t let another desire pass me by. It’s possible that others judge me for sitting in the chair. Maybe they think I’m rude or entitled. But, most likely, they envy me for doing what they themselves could not. So, next time I see The Big Chair empty, I will sit in it. And I suggest you do the same.