String theory begins by telling its audience that most of nature remains hidden from us in tiny, curled up dimensions of space. You can’t see them, but they’re there.
I have discovered where theses dimensions are and can verify to you for the first time they are hidden as promised. They may be found on United Airlines’ 757 Jets, wedged into the Economy Plus section of the aircraft.
I purchased one of these seats on Monday, fully expecting to benefit from the promised extra dimensions of “space” and “spaciousness” United assured me were unavailable to the lesser beings in steerage, folks who were too cheap to pay for the priviledges and high living to which your author has grown accustomed.
When I got to 11D, visual inspection proved that this Economy Plus seat was no larger than the seats at the back of the plane, the so-called non “Plus” section. But knowing the eye can deceive, I sat.
It was then I confirmed that the extra dimensions of physical space were hidden as predicted. For I could not wedge my 6’2″ 195 lb frame into the seat such that I could sit straight. Also, the mis-named “head” rest dug into my should blades, items which are still nowhere near my head.
This would have been tolerable if not for the man who shortly arrived, wishing to pile into 11E, the middle seat. He was two inches shorter than I and about twenty pounds heavier. He too must have been up on his physics, but he was not a string-theory man. He probably subscribed to Lee Smolin’s rival non-hidden dimensions quantum theory.
I say this because when he saw the space into which he would have to maneuver, he became quite angry. He must have realized that the dimensions of space which were promised were not there, thus implying that his quantum theory was false.
He became incensed and started throwing his elbows around trying to find the seat belt. He grumbled and swore. He took up both armrests and growled at the seat back in front of him as if daring it to say something.
After huffing a solid five minutes, he reached down and pulled out a book from his satchel. I never managed to see the cover, which the man was purposely hiding. But I saw large letters on the back cover which read, “A**holes Finish First.”
Very well, I thought, a Harvard man. An MBA, surely. So I slowly but forcefully put my right elbow on the armrest on the millimeter of exposed surface the man left open. I said to him, “The Pauli exclusion principle at work, eh?”
He looked at me like I spoke an incomprehensible foreign language, opened his mouth, but decided against saying anything and went back to his book. And there he sat for the rest of the trip.
I would have written about this earlier, but it was only this morning I regained feeling in my upper limbs, which had become numb after the prolonged flight.