As I walked into Heathrow Airport that morning, I felt completely drained, every muscle in my body aching from a week filled with non-stop swimming competitions. That day, I really needed a peaceful flight more than ever. I’m Logan, 27 years old, and I compete in freestyle swimming events, often traveling to various meets across the globe. That weekend, I wrapped up a tough meet in London—my arms were still heavy from the finals. All I craved was to settle into an airplane seat, slip in some earplugs, perhaps take a melatonin pill, and let myself drift off until we touched down in New York.

Since my swim sponsor arranged this flight at the last minute, I ended up in economy, squeezed into a middle seat. It’s not ideal for someone my height—I’m six-two with broad shoulders from all those years of swimming. But you know what? I told myself I’d make it through. It takes eight hours to fly from London to JFK. Then I would be back home. I had promised my little sister that I would drop by to see her as soon as I landed, perhaps even surprise her at her campus. That was the bright side, a reason to stay positive.

I got to the gate at about 8 a.m., yawning and pulling my rolling suitcase behind me. The flight was almost at capacity, and the waiting area buzzed with activity—families, business travelers dressed in sharp suits, and couples sporting travel pillows around their necks. I just wanted to get on the plane fast, settle into my seat, and tune everything out. The overhead screen flickered to life, confirming that our flight was on schedule. Great. I searched through my things for my boarding pass, looking for my seat number: 24B, right in the middle. I let out a deep sigh. Still, I kept telling myself it was just eight hours. I’m capable of managing that.

At last, they called for boarding, and I joined the line with my group. With my eyes barely open from sheer tiredness, I slowly made my way down the jet bridge. As I boarded the plane, the flight attendants welcomed me with warm smiles. I located 24B, stowed my little carry-on in the overhead compartment, and settled into the seat with a sigh of relief. To my right, the aisle seat remained unoccupied, while to my left, a petite woman in her late twenties occupied the window seat. She had glasses perched on her nose and her curly hair was elegantly pinned back with a tidy barrette. She offered me a warm nod. “Looks like we’ll be neighbors for a while,” she said, her voice gentle and warm.

I gave a slight smile. “Absolutely, fingers crossed for a quiet time ahead so we can just relax.”

She let out a soft laugh. “Trust me, I’m planning to sleep through the whole flight.” She introduced herself as Sasha. I found out that she was on her way home after a working vacation in London. We shared a few friendly comments before the conversation faded, as others arrived and began to organize their bags. I slipped on my earphones, ready to drift off to sleep at any moment. I had this nagging feeling that if I skipped sleep, my body would definitely protest after that grueling swim routine. One by one, the plane filled up, row after row. In the background, babies were crying, overhead bins were being slammed shut, and flight attendants were urging everyone to take their seats. Before long, we were just about set to push back from the gate.

But then, just as I thought everything was set, she arrived: a woman who plopped down in the aisle seat next to me at the very last second, clearly irritated. She had a sleek bob haircut, and her coat looked quite luxurious. As soon as she took a seat, she shot me a quick look, frowned, and then turned her glare towards Sasha too. I gave a courteous nod, but she didn’t acknowledge it. She wrestled with her overstuffed bag, trying to cram it under the seat while muttering a few choice words to herself. She looked annoyed at everyone else, even though the overhead bins were clearly packed. My nerves tingled—some people just seem to bring a storm cloud along wherever they go. “Oh boy,” I thought, “I really hope this doesn’t turn into a disaster.”

The flight attendant informed us that we were getting ready for takeoff, reminding everyone to fasten their seatbelts and put their tray tables up. Sasha and I followed the instructions, but the woman in the aisle seat was busy digging through her bag, completely ignoring what was being said. The flight attendant kindly asked her to put away her belongings, and the woman reacted with an eye roll and an exaggerated sigh. She finally gave in, but her expression was full of irritation. If I had a bit more energy, I could have prepared myself for what was coming. But I was just too exhausted to give it any thought. I chose to simply drift away for a bit.

After taking off, the plane leveled out at its cruising altitude. Sasha had her eyes shut tight, arms crossed, as if she were attempting to drift off to sleep. I nodded to myself, thinking, “That’s a great idea,” and then I shut my eyes. Then, the dreaded call button beeped—once, twice, and then three times in quick succession. I jolted awake and noticed the woman in the aisle seat, her finger hitting that overhead button over and over again. I held back a groan. It seemed like she was calling for the flight attendant. However, hitting it that many times in a row was just overkill.

The flight attendant approached, her face showing a mix of politeness and fatigue. “Yes, ma’am?” What can I do for you?”

The woman’s voice carried a distinct sharpness. “This seat is just absurd.” “I’m feeling a bit squished, stuck between these two… taller or bigger folks.” She shot me a disapproving glance, then turned her gaze to Sasha, even though Sasha was rather small. “I really need some more room.”

I noticed Sasha shift at the mention of larger individuals. She gazed at me, her expression reflecting the same bewilderment I felt. Even though I’m tall, I didn’t mean to take up so much space. Sasha was certainly not large in any way. The flight attendant managed to put on a smile. “I apologize, ma’am, but the flight is fully booked.” “We’re unable to relocate you to another place.”

“Just go ahead and move them!”“The woman snapped.” “I bought this seat.” I can’t just sit here for eight hours all cramped up like a sardine.

The flight attendant’s smile grew a bit strained. I get why you’re feeling frustrated. I’m sorry, but we’re completely booked at the moment. “All the seats are filled.”

The woman let out an exasperated sigh, folding her arms across her chest. “Is that all there is?” Do I really have to put up with this misery for the whole flight?”