Ever had seatmates from hell?
Meet the newlyweds who turned my 14-hour flight into a nightmare.
They thought the plane was their honeymoon suite.
When they pushed too far, I decided it was time for some turbulence of my own making to deliver an unforgettable lesson in airplane etiquette.
They say love is in the air, but on my recent flight, it was pure chaos.
Hey there! I’m Toby, 35 years old, and I’ve got a wild story that’ll make you think twice about your next flight.
So, picture this: I’m on a plane, counting down the minutes until I can hug my wife and kid after being away overseas for what feels like forever.
Enter two entitled newlyweds who turned my flight into a full-blown nightmare.
I’d splurged on a premium economy seat for this 14-hour journey. Honestly, when you’re staring down the barrel of that many hours in a metal tube, every extra inch of legroom counts.
As I settled in, feeling pretty good about my decision, the guy next to me cleared his throat.
“Hey there,” he said, flashing a grin.
“I’m Dave. Listen, I hate to ask, but would you mind switching seats with my wife? We just got married, and, well… you know.”
I plastered on my best congratulations smile.
“That’s great, man. Congrats! Where’s your wife sitting?”
Dave pointed towards the back of the plane, his smile faltering a bit.
“That’s my Lia back there. In economy.”
Now, I’m not a monster. I get it, newlyweds want to be close.
But I’d paid good money for this seat and wasn’t about to give it up for free.
“Look, Dave,” I said, trying to keep it friendly. “I paid extra for this seat because I really need the comfort.
But hey, if you want to cover the difference, about a thousand Australian dollars, I’d be happy to switch.”
Dave’s face darkened. “A thousand bucks?
You’ve got to be kidding me.”
I shrugged. “Sorry, buddy. That’s the deal.
Otherwise, I’m staying put.”
As I popped in my earbuds, I caught a glimpse of Dave’s face. Let’s just say, if looks could kill, I’d have been a goner right there and then.
“You’ll regret this,” he muttered, just loud enough for me to hear.
Little did I know, those three words were about to turn my peaceful flight into a war zone at 30,000 feet.
First came the coughing. Not your run-of-the-mill clearing of the throat, mind you.
We’re talking full-on, hack-up-a-lung explosions that had me wondering if I should be reaching for a hazmat suit.
“You okay there, Dave?” I asked, trying to keep my cool.
He shot me a look that could curdle milk. “Never better,” he wheezed before launching into another fit.
Just as I was considering offering him a cough drop (or maybe an entire pharmacy), Dave decided to up the ante. He whipped out his tablet and started blasting an action movie without headphones.
The couple across the aisle gave us the stink eye.
“Hey, buddy,” the guy said to Dave. “Mind turning that down?”
Dave smiled sweetly. “Sorry, forgot my headphones.
Guess we’ll all have to enjoy it together.”
I gritted my teeth, my knuckles turning white as I gripped the armrest. “Dave, come on. This isn’t cool.”
He turned to me, his eyes glinting.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I making you uncomfortable? That must be awful.”
Before I could respond, a shower of crumbs rained down on my lap.
Dave had somehow managed to turn eating pretzels into an Olympic event, scattering more on me than in his mouth.
“Oops,” he said, not even trying to hide his smirk. “Butter fingers.”
I was about to lose it when I heard a giggle from the aisle. There stood Lia, Dave’s blushing bride, looking like the cat that got the cream.
“Is this seat taken?” she purred, plopping herself right onto Dave’s lap.
Now, I’m no prude, but the way they started carrying on, you’d think they’d forgotten they were on a plane full of people.
The giggling, the whispering, the… other sounds. It was like being trapped in a bad rom-com, only without the option to change the channel.
I tried to focus on my book, my movie, hell, even the safety card, anything to block out the lovebirds’ show. But after an hour of their antics, I’d had enough.
“That’s it,” I muttered, flagging down a passing flight attendant.
“Time to fight fire with fire.”
As the stewardess approached, Dave and Lia dialed up the saccharine act, all googly eyes and sweet nothings.
“Is there a problem, sir?” the attendant asked, eyeing our row with a mix of concern and suspicion.
I took a deep breath, ready to lay it all out. This was going to be good.
“Problem? Oh, where do I start?” I said, loud enough for nearby passengers to hear.
“These two have turned this flight into their personal honeymoon suite.”
The stewardess raised an eyebrow, her gaze shifting between me and the cuddling couple.
I continued, ticking off points on my fingers. “We’ve had nonstop coughing, a movie blasting without headphones, a rain of snack crumbs, and now…” I gestured to Lia perched on Dave’s lap, “this lap dance situation.”
Dave’s face flushed red. “We’re newlyweds!” he protested.
“We just want to sit together.”
The stewardess’s professional mask slipped for a moment, revealing a flash of annoyance. “Sir, ma’am, I understand you’re celebrating, but there are rules we need to follow.”
Lia batted her eyelashes. “Can’t you make an exception?
It’s our special day.”
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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