“Excuse me,” I said politely. “Could you please move your leg?”
He looked at me and laughed.
“You’re tiny! You don’t deserve all that space!”
I couldn’t believe what I’d heard.
For the next four hours, he behaved as though my seat belonged to him.
His thigh pressed against mine. He occupied the entire armrest, pushed his elbow into my space, and even stretched his foot beneath my seat.
My hip began to ache.
Several times, I asked him to stop.
Each time, he either ignored me or made another insulting remark.
“Lady, I’m six-foot-three. Where do you expect me to put my legs?”
“In the space you paid for,” I answered.
He rolled his eyes.
“If you’re not using the space, what’s the problem?”
Then he put on his headphones and laughed to himself.
I stared out the window, fighting back tears of frustration.
