A woman’s patience is put to the test on a long flight when her child keeps hitting his seat and his parents don’t seem to care. What starts out as a frustrating situation soon takes a surprising turn. They didn’t know that karma was just beyond the clouds, ready to teach them a lesson they would never forget.
I was excited to get away for the seven-hour trip, so I chose an aisle seat. I had a good music ready, my book in hand, and noise-canceling headphones on. I thought I had everything I needed to make it through the trip. The cabin was already full, and the air was thick and stuffy, but I didn’t mind. It looked like it would be one of those trips where you just have to hold on until you land.
Right when I thought my trip would go pretty smoothly, it began. It started out as a soft thump on the back of my seat. Not very noticeable. I didn’t pay attention to it because I thought it was a kid moving around or maybe changing his feet. We all had to find ways to relax because the flight was so long.
The beating didn’t stop, though. No, it got into a routine of kicks, each one stronger than the last.
When I turned around, I saw a boy, maybe six or seven years old, swinging his legs and smiling in a way that could only mean one thing: he was up to no good. He kept stomping his shoes on the back of my seat, making it sound like he was making music.
When I turned around, I saw his parents sitting next to him. They were glued to their phones and had no idea that their little sweetheart was leading a percussion show.
In this case, I tried to give it some time. I thought he might get tired. They might notice and do something about it. However, the kicks kept coming, this time more deliberately. The boy was having a great time making fun of me.
What seemed like forever—in fact, it was probably only an hour—I could have taken it no longer. I smiled back with what I hoped was a polite but firm look.
“Excuse me, would you mind asking your son to stop kicking my seat?” I tried to keep my voice as nice as possible as I asked.
The mom barely looked up from her phone. What did she say? She stared at me like I had just asked her to solve a hard physics problem. She yelled, “He’s just a kid!” and then went back to scrolling through whatever was so interesting on her screen.
I was shocked and blinked. “I know what you mean, but it makes me feel really bad.” Could you please—”
The dad looked up quickly, shrugged, and went back to his screen before I could finish. He seemed to be very interested in a video. The boy seemed to step it up when he saw that his parents weren’t paying attention. There were laughs as the kicks got harder. He was having so much fun with this.
I tried to stay calm by biting my lip. I didn’t want to be that person who makes a scene on a plane. Some of the kicks were getting to me, though. I was no longer able to ignore it. It made sense for me to do what I did. I hit the button to call the flight attendant.
She walked in with a friendly smile on her face, her outfit spotless, and a businesslike attitude. “How can I assist you?”
I tried to explain what was going on in a cool and logical way. The worker, let’s call her Jessica, gave the family an understanding nod and walked over to them.
Jessica said, “Excuse me, ma’am or sir.” Thank you for asking your son not to kick the seat in front of him. The passenger is bothered by it.”
The mother looked back at her phone and gave Jessica a lazy nod. The dad gave a grunt that meant he understood. And the kicking stopped for a short, happy time.
The boy seemed to have been waiting for Jessica to leave as soon as she did. The kicks came back stronger and with more purpose. He put me to the test. Let me tell you, he was ahead.
My patience was coming apart like a cheap sweater. I stood up and turned around all the way this time. “Excuse me, could you please control your child?” My voice was not the nice whisper it had been. Some people turned their heads to see what all the noise was about because I was so loud.
The mother rolled her eyes and let out a frustrated sigh, as if I were being unfair. She said it again, but this time with more anger: “He’s just a kid!” I couldn’t make out what the dad said under his breath, but it was clear what he meant: they weren’t going to do anything. What about the boy? He laughed really hard, and then he kicked even harder.
I was done. Done and done. When Jessica came back, I asked her quietly if there was any way I could move to a different place. But I pressed the call button again. I told them what was going on, feeling pretty down about it.
Jessica, bless her, smiled at me like she knew what I was saying. She said, “Let me see what I can do,” and then she walked down the aisle.
Later, after a short break, she came back with a smile that meant good news. “We have a seat available in first class,” she stated. “If you’d like to follow me?”
I already knew. Maybe a little too quickly, I grabbed my things and followed her to the front of the plane. It felt like I was in a different world when I was in first class. There were plenty of seats, it was calm and quiet, and not a single kid could be seen.
I could feel the stress going away as I sank into my new, much more comfy seat. I was given a free drink, which I happily accepted, and then I finally started reading my book. I thought this was the right way to fly. Just what I was hoping for when I got on the plane: peaceful and relaxing.
After that, the flight went without a hitch. I read a few chapters of my book, listened to music, and even watched a movie during the trip. Everything went well. But fate is said to have a funny way of making things right.
I heard a talk between the flight attendants about an hour before we were supposed to land. It looks like my old economics friends were still making trouble. The boy had found a new person to kick after I moved to first class: an old woman who had taken my place.
The mother yelled at her and told her to mind her own business when she asked him to stop being rude. Of course, things got worse very quickly. As tempers rose, the father and flight crew got into a full-on fight, with the father blaming them of “harassing” his family.
Jessica was telling another worker about this, and her voice was just loud enough for me to understand. Saying in a low voice, “The captain had to step in,” “They were threatening to have security meet us when we land.”
I felt a little guilty, but it was for the old woman and not for the parents who had caused this. I had seen for myself how annoying that family could be. Still, it was perfect justice, right?
As the plane landed and made its way to the gate, I looked out the window and saw the alert lights of airport security cars. They were ready. I was pretty sure I knew who they were waiting for.
This is what the woman sees out the window:
This is what the woman sees out the window:
Sure enough, as we got off the plane, I saw the family being led off by cops who looked very serious. The boy had been so brave and sure of himself on the flight, but now he was crying and holding on to his mom’s leg. The parents didn’t look like the cocky, rude people they had been just hours before. Their faces were red with shame.
I gathered my things and felt a sense of pleasure that I didn’t like but also couldn’t deny. Somehow, Karma stepped in when I couldn’t, and in the end, I not only got to travel in first class, but I also saw some justice done.
As I walked by the family, who were now ringed by police, I couldn’t help but smile at them. It wasn’t much—just a small curve of the lips—but it was just what I needed to feel whole again. Sometimes, the world just knows how to keep things in balance, and that day, it did a great job.
When I left the airport, my book was done, my flight had been better, and I had a story to tell that would definitely make my friends laugh the next time I told it to them.
That was interesting. If you liked this story, you might also like another one about a couple on a plane who tricks a woman out of her place and then realizes they were messing with the wrong person.
