Flying is not a pleasant experience for everyone. Some people make sure that before they set off on their trip, they take measures to ensure their comfort. But not everyone is mindful of the same thing.
This woman knew what she required when traveling and did exactly that. However, there were others who did not see it that way…
A woman found herself in a very uncomfortable position both literally and figuratively. She was torn between prioritizing her own comfort over societal expectations. She was faced with a decision; she could either be generous or stand up for her personal space.
She was headed across the country to spend Christmas with her family. She knew when she flew, she needed to be comfortable. Considering her size, she always books an extra seat on a flight. She makes sure to pay extra to ensure her comfort.
Everything went smoothly during the check-in, and she flew by through security and boarding. It was only when she was sitting in her seat that the unpleasant experience began. A woman with her 18-month-old child was sitting next to her. She saw that there was one seat empty and promptly requested that the woman squeeze herself onto one seat so that her toddler could occupy the other one. But seeing as the original occupant had paid for both seats, she refused.
The interaction was gaining attention, and a flight attendant noticed and came by to see what was going on. When the situation was explained to the flight attendant, she asked the woman on whether she could make room for the child, but she politely declined and asserted one again that she had paid in full for both seats.
The flight attendant thankfully understood and instructed the mother to hold her child in her lap as most children that age usually do. But, throughout the journey, the mother made sure to make the woman uncomfortable with dirty looks and passive-aggressive remarks.
Later, the woman wondered whether she had been unfair in this interaction and should have relented and given up her extra seat. She took to Reddit to ask the community on whether she had been wrong.
One person, who was a mother herself and had been in a similar situation wrote, “I’ve taken 9-hour flights with an infant in my arms and shorter flights with a toddler in my lap, who was capable of sitting in his own seat and very much did not want me to hold him. Did it suck? Yes. But it was my problem alone, and as long as my child was under 24 months and I didn’t have to pay for his seat, I chose to hold him. I swear, not all of us parents are this entitled!”
Another person added, “She’s wrong for not buying a seat for her son and assuming someone else would give up a seat they paid for. Odds are she was hoping there’d be extra seats on the flight so she didn’t have to pay and used the lap thing as a loophole.”
“I’d go so far as making a complaint to the airline about their employee supporting another passenger harassing you,” another outraged Redditor wrote.
Another annoyed user said, “You should always do what you can to be as healthy as you can, but being fat isn’t a character flaw or a moral failing. We all have our own challenges in life, and you deserve not to be ashamed of your body and yourself, even if you aren’t currently meeting your goals. If the mom wants an extra seat for her kids, she should have purchased one. She’s not entitled to a seat you purchased, and you don’t need to feel bad for her bad behavior.”
While, some people could also perhaps see the mother’s side in wanting to have a comfortable flight as well. However, had that been important for her, she would have made sure to prioritize getting a seat for her child.
Who do you think is right in this conversation? Let us know in the comments! Share this with others so they can also give their two cents on the topic.
My Stepmom Gifted Me a Funerary Urn for My 17th Birthday
I always knew my stepmom, Monica, wasn’t exactly the nicest person—annoying, yes, but not evil. She was the type who would talk over me, forget my birthday, and call me “kiddo” even though I was practically an adult.
But what she did on my 17th birthday? It was the final straw.
It all started after my mom, Sarah, passed away when I was ten. After that, it was just me and Dad. We were a team—movie nights, pizza dinners, and a mutual understanding that we had each other’s backs, always.
Then Monica came along about three years ago. She wasn’t the worst, just kind of… there. She moved in, slowly took over the bathroom with her endless beauty products, and managed to inch her way into Dad’s life, whether I liked it or not.
Monica had dreams—big dreams—of opening a hair salon. I didn’t have a problem with people having dreams, but I had my own, too, and she treated me like I was an inconvenience that came with the house.
But I had a plan. College was my way out, and Dad had promised me from the time I was little that there was a college fund waiting for me. “Your mom and I set it up when you were five, Lila,” he’d say. “It’s all there, and I add to it every year.”
So, I worked hard in school, counting down the days until I could leave for college and start a life of my own.
On the morning of my 17th birthday, I wasn’t expecting much. Maybe some pancakes, a card—Dad was at work, so it was just Monica and me. But when Monica handed me a gift bag, things took a weird turn.
Inside the bag was a pink funerary urn. Yes, you read that right. An urn.
I stared at it, completely confused. “What the hell is this?” I asked.
Monica leaned against the kitchen counter, a smug look on her face. “It’s symbolic,” she said as if that explained anything.
“Symbolic of what?” I asked, already feeling a sinking feeling in my stomach.
Monica smiled wider. “It’s time to bury your college dreams, kiddo. Your dad and I decided to put that fund to better use.”
“Better use?” I repeated, my heart racing.
“Yep. We used it to help me open my salon. College is a gamble, Lila. But a business? That’s a real investment.”
I was frozen. Had they really taken my future, my college fund, and sunk it into Monica’s dream? How could my dad have let this happen?
“Life’s full of disappointments,” she added, as if that was supposed to be comforting.
I ran upstairs and slammed my door, sobbing harder than I ever had. Everything I’d worked for, everything my mom had wanted for me, was gone.
For the next few days, I barely spoke to either of them. Monica pranced around like she owned the house while I sat with the urn on my desk, a twisted reminder of what I had lost.
Then, a few days later, something strange happened.
When I got home from school, there was a note on my desk in Monica’s messy handwriting: Meet me at the salon at 6 P.M. tonight. No questions. Just trust me.
I almost laughed. Trust her? After what she did?
But my curiosity got the better of me, and against my better judgment, I went.
When I arrived at the salon, the lights were off, but the door was unlocked. Hesitant, I stepped inside. There, in the middle of the room, were Monica and my dad, both grinning.
“Surprise!” Monica shouted.
I was speechless.
“Look,” Monica said, stepping aside to reveal a shiny new sign on the wall: Dream Cuts: A Scholarship Fund in Honor of Sarah.
“What is this?” I asked, completely lost.
Monica’s smile softened. “We didn’t use your college fund, Lila. It’s all still there. The salon isn’t just for me—it’s for you, too. And for others like you. A portion of the profits will go toward funding scholarships in your mom’s name.”
I blinked, feeling like the ground was shifting beneath my feet.
“But… why make me think otherwise?” I asked, still trying to wrap my head around it.
Monica winced. “Yeah, the urn thing… That was not my best idea. I thought it would be motivational, like burying the past and embracing the future. Turns out, it was just creepy.”
Dad stepped forward, placing a hand on my shoulder. “We’ve been planning this for months. Your mom always wanted to help kids get to college. This way, her dream lives on.”
I stood there, stunned, my anger melting into something softer.
Monica looked at me earnestly. “I’m not trying to replace your mom, Lila. I just want to build something meaningful, something that helps you and others. I know I haven’t been the best stepmom, but I hope this can be a fresh start.”
For the first time in a long time, I smiled.
It wasn’t perfect, and maybe things with Monica never would be. But in that moment, standing in a salon named for my mom, I realized she wasn’t trying to destroy my future—she was trying to honor it in a way I hadn’t expected.
And yeah, I kept the urn. I planted peace lilies in it. Maybe it wasn’t the symbol Monica had intended, but it had become something new. A symbol of hope.
What would you have done in my shoes?
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