Over the next few hours, Karen’s antics only got worse. She shifted in her seat, kicked at my legs, and elbowed me at every opportunity. She sighed dramatically, pressed the call button repeatedly, and loudly declared that her “human rights” were being violated.
By the fourth hour, I had reached my limit. “Look,” I said, turning to her with exhaustion evident in my voice. “We’re all uncomfortable. Why don’t you watch a movie or read something? Let’s just get through this flight.”
Karen glared at me. “Why don’t you stop taking up so much space? And maybe she should lose some weight!” she jabbed her thumb at the window-seat woman again.
The flight attendants were clearly at their wits’ end, whispering amongst themselves and shooting Karen disapproving looks. Finally, one of them approached. “Ma’am,” the attendant said firmly, “if you don’t calm down, we’ll have to take further action. The call button is for emergencies only.”
“This is an emergency!” Karen shouted, throwing her arms up in frustration.
By the time the plane landed, I and the other passengers were counting down the seconds to freedom. But Karen wasn’t done. As soon as the wheels touched down, she unbuckled her seatbelt and shot up, darting down the aisle before anyone else could move.
The captain’s voice crackled over the intercom, “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to New York! We’d like to recognize a very special passenger onboard today.”
The cabin fell silent, confused murmurs rippling through the rows. Karen, however, perked up, her chest puffed with self-importance. The captain emerged from the cockpit, his demeanor calm and professional as he made his way down the aisle. Karen practically glowed, assuming she was about to receive some sort of recognition.
But as he reached her row, he stopped and gestured towards her seat. “Ah, here we are! Seat 42C. Ladies and gentlemen, let’s give our special guest a round of applause!”
There was a moment of stunned silence before the cabin erupted into laughter and clapping. Karen’s face turned beet red. She opened her mouth to argue but couldn’t find the words. The captain gave her a polite nod and returned to the cockpit.
I leaned back in my seat, a grin spreading across my face. “That,” I said to the woman in the window seat, “was worth the eight hours of torture.” As we finally began to disembark, Karen was left to stew in her embarrassment. The woman and I exchanged smiles as we grabbed our bags.
“Here’s to a Karen-free flight next time,” I said.
“Cheers to that,” she replied with a laugh.
Sometimes, justice comes with a little turbulence.