Have you ever had terrible seatmates? Meet the newlyweds who transformed my 14-hour flight into a nightmare. They assumed the jet was their honeymoon suite. When they pushed too far, I decided it was time to create some turbulence of my own to teach them a valuable lesson in airline etiquette.

Hey, there! I’m Toby, 35 years old, and I have a fantastic story that will make you reconsider your next journey. So, image this: I’m on a plane, anxiously down the minutes till I can hug my wife and child after being gone overseas for what feels like an eternity. Enter two entitled newlyweds, who made my flight into a complete nightmare.

I had splurged on a premium economy ticket for the 14-hour voyage. Honestly, when you’re facing that many hours in a metal tube, every extra inch of legroom counts.

As I settled in, satisfied with my decision, the person next to me cleared his throat. “Hey there,” he said with a smile. “I am Dave. I’m sorry to ask, but would you mind moving seats with my wife? “We just got married, so… you know.” I put on my biggest congrats smile. “That’s excellent, man. Congrats! “Where is your wife sitting?”

Dave pointed to the back of the plane, his smile fading slightly. “That is my Lia back there. “In the economy.”

Now, I am not a monster. I get it; newlyweds want to be close. But I had paid a good price for this seat and was not about to give it up for free.

“Look, Dave,” I remarked, trying to be pleasant. “I spent more for this seat since I really need the comfort. But, hey, if you want to cover the difference, which is around a thousand Australian dollars, I’d be pleased to switch.” Dave’s face clouded. “A thousand dollars?” “You have to be kidding me.”I shrugged. “I’m sorry, buddy.” That is the bargain. Otherwise, I am remaining put.” As I inserted my headphones, I caught a glimpse of Dave’s face. Let’s just say that if looks were deadly, I’d have di:ed right then. “You’ll regret this,” he said, just loud enough to be heard.

Little did I know that those three words would convert my tranquil flight into a combat zone at 30,000 feet.
First came the coughing. Not your typical throat clearing, mind you.

We’re talking full-fledged, hack-up-a-lung explosions that made me question whether I should go for a hazmat suit. “You okay there, Dave?” I asked, attempting to maintain my composure.

He gave me a glare that could curdle milk. “Never better,” he wheezed before throwing another tantrum.

Just as I was about to hand him a cough drop (or even a whole pharmacy), Dave decided to boost the ante. He pulled out his tablet and began playing an action movie sans headphones.

The pair across the aisle gave us the stinkeye. “Hey, buddy,” the man remarked to Dave. “Mind turning that down?” Dave smiled sweetly. “Sorry, I forgot my headphones. I guess we’ll have to enjoy it together.

I gritted my teeth and grasped the armrest with white knuckles. “Come on, Dave. “This is not cool.” He turned to me, his eyes gleaming. “Oh, I apologize. Am I making you uncomfortable? “That must be terrible.”