Four hours into the flight, the man beside me finally went to the restroom.
The second he disappeared down the aisle, I stretched my legs for the first time in hours.
My hip ached.
My shoulder hurt from being pressed against the window.
And for the first time since takeoff, both of my knees were actually pointing forward…. Continue Reading ⬇️
That should tell you how ridiculous the situation had become.
I was sixty-one years old, five-foot-two, and had spent most of my life avoiding confrontation.
But by the time Josh returned from the restroom, I had done something he clearly hadn’t expected.
I had moved.
He stopped in the aisle.
Looked at his seat.
Then looked two rows back at me.
His face turned bright red.
“What the hell did you do?!”
Several passengers looked up.
I closed my book slowly.
“I changed seats.”
“You went behind my back?”
