Chapter 1: Half My Seat
I was sixty-one, five-foot-two, and flying alone to meet my first granddaughter when the man beside me decided half my seat belonged to him.
He was broad-shouldered, maybe fifty, in an expensive quarter-zip and loafers.
Before we even took off, his knee was pressed several inches past the invisible line between our seats.
I shifted toward the window.
He spread his legs wider.
For absolutely no reason.
“Excuse me,” I said quietly. “Could you move your leg a little?”
He looked down at me and actually laughed.
“Lady, look at you. You’re tiny. You don’t need all that space.”
I thought he was joking.
He wasn’t.
For the next two hours, his thigh pushed against mine while he took the armrest, draped his jacket over the divider, and stretched one foot into my legroom.
Every time I edged away, I ended up twisted against the window.
My hip started aching.
When I asked again, he sighed dramatically.
“I’m six-three. Where exactly do you expect my legs to go?”
He was not six-three.
“Into the space you paid for,” I said.
He smirked.
“If you’re not using the space, what’s the problem?”
Then he put his headphones back on and kept eating his chips.
That sentence stayed with me.
A little later, I tried lowering my tray table, but his elbow was partly across it.
“Seriously?” I asked.
He didn’t even look up.
“You women love making everything a problem.”
I swallowed my anger.
I had spent most of my life avoiding scenes.
My late husband used to tease that I’d apologize to a chair after bumping into it.
But sitting there, squeezed into a seat I’d paid hundreds of dollars for while a stranger acted as if my small body meant I deserved less, something in me finally snapped.
About four hours into the flight, he pulled off his headphones and unbuckled his seat belt.
“Bathroom,” he muttered.
He squeezed past the passenger on his other side and disappeared down the aisle.
For the first time in hours, the seat beside me was empty.
I slowly straightened my aching leg and looked at all that space he’d spent the flight stealing from me.
Then I remembered his words.
“If you’re not using the space, what’s the problem?”
For the first time on the flight, I smiled.
