Ever had seatmates from hell? Let me introduce you to the newlyweds who turned my 14-hour flight into an airborne disaster. I’m Toby, 35, just trying to get home to my wife and kid after months overseas. I’d splurged on a premium economy seat—extra legroom, a bit of peace. Enter Dave, grinning like he owned the place, asking me to switch seats so he could sit with his bride, Lia—who was all the way back in economy. I politely declined unless he covered the upgrade cost, which he scoffed at.
That’s when the games began: loud coughing fits, action movies blasting without headphones, and crumbs launched in every direction. Then Lia waltzed up and parked herself right on Dave’s lap, giggling like they were in a honeymoon suite instead of a public aircraft. I tried to ignore it, but between their PDA and Dave’s smug jabs, I reached my limit. That’s when I called in backup—and let’s just say, the turbulence was just getting started…