Until something happened four hours into the flight.
The man suddenly unbuckled his seat belt.
“Bathroom,” he muttered.
He stood up and walked down the aisle.
For the first time in hours, I could straighten my aching leg.
Then I looked at his empty seat.
And an idea came to me.
I noticed a flight attendant approaching.
“Excuse me,” I whispered. “Could I ask you something?”
“Of course, ma’am.”
I explained everything.
How the man had been pushing into my seat.
How I’d repeatedly asked him to stop.
How my hip was hurting so badly that I could barely sit comfortably.
The attendant’s expression changed.
“Why didn’t you tell us earlier?”
“I didn’t want to make trouble.”
She shook her head.
“You’re not making trouble by asking to sit in your own seat.”
Then she checked something on her handheld device.
“Actually, we have an empty aisle seat two rows behind you. Would you like to move?”
