I’d had enough. I hit the call button again and asked the attendant if I could move to another seat. She said she’d check and came back a few minutes later with good news: there was a seat available in first class. I quickly gathered my things and followed her.
First class was a world apart—spacious seats, calm and quiet. I sank into my new seat, tension melting away. I accepted a complimentary drink and went back to my book. The rest of the flight was smooth.
However, about an hour before landing, I overheard flight attendants talking. After I moved, the boy had started kicking an elderly woman who took my old seat. When she asked him to stop, the mother snapped at her. It escalated, with the father arguing with the flight crew, accusing them of “harassing” his family.
As the plane landed and taxied to the gate, I saw airport security vehicles waiting. And sure enough, as we disembarked, the family was being escorted off the plane by security officers. The boy was crying, clinging to his mother’s leg, and the parents looked embarrassed, nothing like their earlier smug selves.