A man spent hours invading my airplane seat, stealing my comfort as if I had no right to complain. But when he returned from the restroom, he stared at his seat in disbelief and screamed, “WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?!”
I was sixty-one, barely five-foot-two, and traveling alone to meet my first granddaughter. I should have been filled with excitement, dreaming about holding that precious little baby for the first time. Instead, I found myself trapped beside a man who seemed convinced that my space belonged to him.
He was tall, broad, and dressed like someone who expected everyone to respect him. Before takeoff, his knee was already invading my side.
I moved closer to the window. He spread his legs even wider.
“Excuse me,” I whispered politely. “Would you mind moving your leg?”
