Settling into my aisle seat for a 7-hour flight, I was ready for some much-needed escape. With my book in hand, noise-canceling headphones on, and a decent playlist queued up, I thought I had everything to survive the journey. The cabin was full and the air thick and stuffy, but I was resigned to endure it.
Just when I expected a relatively uneventful trip, it began. At first, there was a faint thump against my seat, hardly noticeable. I ignored it, assuming it was a kid shifting around. But the thumping didn’t stop; instead, it got into a rhythm—kick, kick, kick—each one stronger.
I looked over my shoulder and saw a boy, around six or seven, grinning as he repeatedly kicked the back of my seat with his sneakers, like he was drumming. His parents beside him were glued to their phones, oblivious to what he was doing.