‘Ma’am, are you willing to assist other passengers in the case of an emergency?’’

The flight attendant’s question should have been a no-brainer. But was I?

It was going to be a short flight. Boston to Syracuse. The chance of an emergency seemed low. But even so, good god, what kind of a deal had I struck for three extra inches of legroom?

A few weeks earlier, when I decided to splurge for the exit row, my sole concern was financial. With Expedia as my witness, the idea that I’d be deputized as a member of the Black Hawk Down team never crossed my mind.

I was settling in with my book when the flight attendant made her approach. I looked at my fellow fliers, the ones I’d stupidly paid an extra $12 to save.

There were a pair of flirtatious thirtysomethings on a business trip. When their fling ended, he would be the one hurt, you could tell. A woman with Groomed Hair and statement jewelry was in front of me — a real estate agent from the suburbs I figured, but she might sell in the Seaport, too. Two paunchy middle-aged guys wearing polo shirts with corporate logos were already planning their cocktails.

How I envied them their care-free flights. And why shouldn’t they relax? They knew that if the engines blew, the sucker in seat 8D — that’d be me — would handle things. “Do you people even care about me?’’ I wanted to shout. “We’ll see who gets off first in the unlikely event of a water landing.’’

I might well have barked that aloud, but the fear of bringing social media-induced shame on my sons stopped me. I didn’t want to mar their high school years by going viral: “Watch this Exit Row Mom Pull a George Costanza.’’

I thought about the “Seinfeld’’ episode in which George panicked when a fire broke out at a birthday party, and he pushed women and children aside so he could dash to safety.

No! I would not be that person. I would be a Sully, the hero pilot, keeping my cool while escorting my fellow passengers to safety. I removed the instruction card from the seat pocket in front of me. There were illustrations of dutiful passengers competently dispatching an exit panel that I learned could weigh up to 66 pounds.

In one scenario, a male passenger appears to throw the door out the window to allow passengers to calmly deplane off the wing, as you do. In another, a woman lowers a door that turns into a staircase and everyone strolls off, as if for a day at the beach.

I’ve seen more tension over space in the overhead compartment.

This is what I don’t understand. Every time you fly, the airlines provide a tutorial on buckling a seatbelt. But if the plane has crashed and everyone is screaming and flames are shooting up, and it’s all on you to escort everyone to safety, all you get are some lousy illustrations.

And, by the way, for anyone who chooses to sit an exit row in the future, be advised: According to the Federal Aviation Administration, your duties don’t stop with the door — that’s just the beginning. When you sit in an exit row you are also expected to be able to: “Assess whether opening the emergency exit will increase the hazards to which passengers may be exposed; Assess the condition of an escape slide, activate the slide, and stabilize the slide after deployment to assist others in getting off the slide; Pass expeditiously through the emergency exit; and Assess, select, and follow a safe path away from the emergency exit.’’

Is it just me, or does that sound harder than buckling your seatbelt?

You’d think that faced with this kind of responsibility, a lot of people would end up shirking their responsibilities. But the cabin safety manager of the International Air Transport Association, a trade association of the world’s airlines, and the international president of the 50,000-member Association of Flight Attendants-CWA, AFL-CIO, each reported that they were not aware of dereliction of duty.

In fact, the more common scenario involves multiple passengers — some not even sitting in an exit row — who try to help when an emergency breaks out, according to the president of the flight attendant’s association, Sara Nelson.

“You’ve got Type A personalities,’’ she said.

Some are so well-meaning, she added, that they initiate evacuations on their own. This I almost couldn’t believe, but apparently it happens when the plane is on the tarmac, and a can-do passenger spots a flame in the engine, which, Nelson said, is a “normal thing.’’

“People can get a little over zealous,’’ she said.

But sometimes, she said, people who have bought an exit-row seat do decide to move before the flight takes off — and performance anxiety is not usually the reason. It's the other exit-row passengers.

“Let’s get real,’’ Nelson said. “You’re packed on the plane dealing with all kinds of humanity. Sometimes you don’t feel super comfortable sitting next to a person for a whole range of reasons. It could be body odor.’’

Beth Teitell can be reached at beth.teitell@globe.com. Follow her on Twitter @BethTeitell.