BOY DIDN’T STOP KICKING MY SEAT DURING THE FLIGHT, SO MY DAD TAUGHT HIS PARENTS A NICE LESSON
Greetings! Evelyn here, hailing from Minnesota. My dad and I were en route from Alberta to Minneapolis, a familiar journey given his business interests spanning both sides of the border.
The flight began promisingly, a picture of cozy comfort. Little did we know, barely thirty minutes in, it would devolve into an airborne ordeal. Around the forty to forty-five-minute mark, a child, roughly ten years of age, initiated a relentless assault on my seatback.
Initially, I dismissed it as playful jostling. Turning around, I addressed the young culprit with polite restraint, “Excuse me, buddy, could you please stop? I’m trying to have a peaceful flight.” His parents responded with peculiar stares, while the boy contorted his face into a grimace. Nevertheless, I harbored a sliver of hope that my message had been received.
A mere five minutes elapsed, and the percussive assault resumed, now targeting both my seat and my father’s. My dad, maintaining his composure, reiterated the request for him to stop. He actually ceased… momentarily, for perhaps ten fleeting seconds. Then, the rhythmic thumping recommenced. Bam Bam Bam…
Instead of summoning the flight attendant, my dad opted for a more direct approach. He dramatically RECLINED his seat to its maximum extent. Deprived of his kicking target, the boy could no longer reach us. It was then that his parents, with astonishing entitlement, demanded my dad return his seat to an upright position, as THEIR PRECIOUS SON’S comfort was apparently being compromised.
My dad, with unwavering politeness, declined their audacious request. AND IF YOU CAN BELIEVE THE SHEER GALL, they then proceeded to summon the flight attendant themselves! It was at this juncture that the situation truly escalated.
The boy’s father declared, with indignation dripping from his voice, “This man has reclined his seat, and my son is now deeply uncomfortable!”
My dad responded, with admirable brevity and finality, “My seat is my prerogative.”
Flight Attendant (addressing my dad): “Sir, would you prefer to maintain your seat in the reclined position?”
My dad simply replied, “Indeed, I would.”
FA: “Well then…”
As the flight attendant addressed my dad, the true extent of the unfolding spectacle began to reveal itself. The boy’s father… ⬇️…attempted to interject, but the flight attendant, with a subtle yet firm gesture, silenced him. Turning her attention back to the boy’s mother, she inquired, her voice laced with professional courtesy, “Madam, has your son been kicking the passenger’s seat in front of him?”
The mother, momentarily taken aback by the direct question, stammered, “Well, he… he might have been a little restless.”
The flight attendant’s eyebrow arched ever so slightly. “Restless to the point of repeatedly kicking the seat in front of him, despite being asked to stop?”
The father, regaining his bluster, jumped in, “But this man reclining his seat is making my son uncomfortable! It’s encroaching on his space!”
The flight attendant, remaining remarkably composed, addressed the father directly. “Sir, the seats are designed to recline. It is a standard feature of air travel. Furthermore,” she lowered her voice slightly, though it carried a new weight, “I observed your son kicking this passenger’s seat myself while approaching. I also heard both this gentleman and his daughter politely ask him to stop, requests which were seemingly ignored by your family.”
A palpable silence descended upon our small section of the cabin. The boy’s parents exchanged glances, their faces now a mixture of embarrassment and simmering resentment. The flight attendant continued, her tone now firmly instructive, “Sir, Madam, I suggest you focus on managing your son’s behavior for the remainder of the flight. Reclining a seat is within the passenger’s rights. Kicking another passenger’s seat is not.”
With a final, pointed look at the parents, she turned to my dad, a small, almost imperceptible smile gracing her lips. “Is there anything else I can assist you with, sir?”
My dad, ever the gentleman, simply shook his head. “No, thank you. I appreciate your intervention.”
The flight attendant nodded and moved on, leaving the boy’s parents stewing in their own indignation. The boy, perhaps finally understanding the gravity of the situation, or simply deprived of his target, remained surprisingly quiet for the rest of the flight. Occasionally, I would catch his parents casting glares in our direction, but they dared not say another word.
My dad, meanwhile, simply reopened his book, seemingly unfazed by the entire ordeal. I, however, couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. It wasn’t about ‘teaching them a lesson’ in a vindictive way, but rather about asserting our right to a peaceful flight and witnessing the quiet deflation of entitlement.
As we disembarked in Minneapolis, I glanced back at the family. The boy looked subdued, and for the first time, his parents seemed less puffed up with self-importance. Perhaps, just perhaps, they had learned a small lesson that day – that the world doesn’t revolve around their ‘precious son’, and that sometimes, a gently reclined seat is all it takes to restore a little peace in the skies. And for that, I was grateful for my dad’s calm and effective approach. It was a far more ‘nice’ lesson than they probably deserved, but one that was definitely needed.