After I got on the plane, a woman rushed to the empty seat beside me and plopped her daughter into it. She explained she’d bought last-minute tickets and they couldn’t sit together. I felt bad for the kid, so I offered her my seat. She thanked me — barely — and I squeezed into her seat: a cramped middle seat in the very last row, beside the bathrooms.
About an hour into the flight, turbulence started. People were restless, and the smell from the back wasn’t helping. I tried to distract myself when suddenly the same woman stormed down the aisle toward me, furious.
“You need to switch back,” she snapped.
I blinked. “Why?”
“My daughter doesn’t like sitting alone anymore. I want my seat.”
I almost laughed. “Ma’am… your seat is this one now.”
She raised her voice — loud enough for half the plane to hear. “I PAID for that seat! You need to move!”
A flight attendant stepped in. I calmly explained that I had already switched with her at the beginning of the flight. The attendant asked her, “Did you agree to the exchange?” The woman reluctantly mumbled yes.
“Then he stays,” the attendant said firmly. “Seat changes are final.”
The entire back row applauded quietly.
The woman huffed back to the front — and her daughter? She waved at me and smiled.
Best middle seat I ever sat in. ✈️👏
