Airplane etiquette is simple: don’t be the person who reclines without warning, especially when someone’s knees are already crushed behind you. Unfortunately, the businessman in front of me didn’t get the memo—so I had to teach him a lesson, one crumb at a time.
At six feet tall, I’m used to cramped flights. But this guy? He didn’t just recline—he slammed his seat back like he was auditioning for a wrestling match. My knees screamed in protest.
“Sir,” I said politely, “could you ease up a bit? I’ve got zero space back here.”
He barely turned his head. “Not my problem. I paid for this seat.”
Even the flight attendant couldn’t reason with him. That’s when I noticed my mom’s snack stash. A bag of pretzels. Perfect.
I ripped it open and started chewing like I was in a crunching competition. Crumbs cascaded onto his suit like edible confetti. He stiffened, swatting at his shoulders.
“Hey!” he barked.
“Sorry,” I said, not sorry at all. “These pretzels are super messy.”
Then—achoo!—a dramatic sneeze sent another crumb storm his way.
Within seconds, his seat shot upright. Victory.
As we disembarked, my mom shook her head, laughing. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”
