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THIS MAN HAD ENOUGH! SEE HOW HE TAUGHT A SEAT-KICKING KID AND HIS MOM A LESSON!

By Nathalie February 1, 2024

Carl sank into his seat on the crowded airplane and closed his eyes, eager for
the long flight ahead to be over as soon as possible. Just as the cabin doors
were closing and the attendants began final checks, he felt a sudden jolt
against the back of his seat. He turned around to see a young boy, no more than
six or seven, sitting in the row behind him. The boy had a mischievous grin on
his face as he kicked Carl’s seat again.

“Hey there, can you please stop kicking my seat?” Carl asked in a friendly tone,
trying to get the boy to stop before things escalated. The boy’s mother sat next
to him, completely absorbed in her magazine. Oblivious to her son’s antics, she
did not look up or reprimand him. The boy’s grin widened as he geared up and
delivered another firm kick to the back of Carl’s seat.

Carl clenched his jaw in frustration. This was not how he wanted to spend the
next five hours. He contemplated alerting the mother, but hesitated to cause a
scene. The plane accelerated down the runway, and the repeated kicks continued,
each one making Carl’s seat lurch forward. He took a deep breath and braced
himself for the inevitable next jolt, realizing this was going to be a very long
and uncomfortable flight…

Just hours before, Carl had been completely at peace and in a great state of
mind. He had arrived early at the airport after a brief business trip in Boston.
The last couple of days had been a whirlwind of meetings and presentations.

As a senior project manager in a leading tech firm, he was no stranger to the
pressures of tight deadlines and high expectations. This trip had been
especially crucial, involving negotiations with potential clients that could
make or break their quarter’s targets.

During the day, he navigated through back-to-back meetings, each requiring his
utmost attention and expertise. Evenings were no less hectic, filled with
networking events and late-night strategy sessions with his team. Sleep was
minimal and restless, his mind constantly buzzing with data figures, project
timelines, and potential client queries.

Despite the exhaustion, Carl felt a sense of accomplishment. He had successfully
secured a promising deal, a testament to his hard work and perseverance. It was
these moments of success, brief and far between, that reminded him why he
endured such a demanding career.

Now, waiting at the gate of the airport, he craved nothing more than to unwind,
process the events of the trip, and mentally prepare for the upcoming
challenges. He had planned to use this flight as a much-needed break, a brief
period of disconnection from the relentless pace of his job.

He sank back in the stiff airport seat, checking his watch for what felt like
the hundredth time. Just 10 more minutes until boarding. He let out a sigh of
relief. After the nonstop hustle of this work trip, he was more than ready to
settle into his comfy business class seat for the long flight home.

As the minutes ticked by, he envisioned stretching out his legs, enjoying the
extra space and amenities. He had paid extra for the comfort of business class
after the high-stress trip. He needed this time to decompress.

Right on time, the gate agent announced boarding for business class passengers.
Eagerly, Carl jumped up and made his way to the front of the line, his boarding
pass in hand. Just a few more steps and he would be relaxing in his seat,
unwinding with a drink in hand.

But as he approached the desk, the gate agent gave him an apologetic look. “Sir,
it seems there’s been an issue with our seating. The flight is overbooked, and
we don’t have any more space in business class.”

Carl felt his excitement turning into frustration. After all the hard work he
had put into his work project, now this? He took a deep breath to steady his
voice. “What do you mean overbooked? I paid for a business class seat weeks
ago.”

The agent nodded, her expression sympathetic. “Yes, I understand you booked a
seat in business class. Unfortunately we’ve had several passengers with upgraded
tickets show up for this flight, more than we have space for. I’m so sorry for
the inconvenience, but we will need to move you to economy for this flight.”

Carl clenched his jaw, trying to hold back his rising anger. This was
unbelievable. After endless days of stressful meetings and high-pressure
negotiations, he had been looking forward to a peaceful flight home in the
spacious business class cabin.

“So, because the flight is oversold, I’m the one who suffers?” he asked, his
voice tense with frustration. “Am I expected to spend the next five hours
squeezed into this cramped seat, barely any space for my legs?” Aware of the
turning heads and curious glances from nearby passengers, he took a deep breath,
striving to keep his composure.

“I know this is frustrating, Mr. Williams,” the agent replied. “As compensation,
we can offer you a full refund for the difference in fare between business and
economy, as well as a voucher for a future flight.” Carl shook his head. A
voucher wasn’t going to relax his frazzled nerves or ease his exhaustion after
the taxing business trip he’d just been through.

He thought longingly of the wide, cushy seat he had selected, the extra
attentive flight attendants in business class who would tend to his every need.
Hoping a kinder approach might work, he shifted tactics. “Is there any chance
someone else could be moved to economy instead?” he asked, his tone laced with
desperation. “I genuinely need that business class seat today.”

The agent gave him a regretful look. “I’m so sorry, but there is just no more
room in the business cabin. I wish there was something I could do.”
Carl picked up his carry-on bag angrily. He felt his meticulously planned flight
home unraveling by the second. “This is unacceptable,” he said tersely. “I
expect much better service than this.”

With an exhausted sigh, he turned and trudged toward the economy boarding line.
So much for a relaxing end to his work trip, he thought miserably. Now he faced
five stressful hours jammed into a cramped seat, all hopes of comfort and rest
dashed.

He pictured the economy cabin packed with passengers. The noise, the crying
babies, the constant bumping of elbows as people shuffled down the narrow
aisles. It was his worst nightmare after the high-stress trip he’d just endured.

As Carl slowly made his way through the crowded line, he could feel his
frustration growing. Everywhere around him, passengers were jostling for space.
Children ran around as their exhausted parents tried to keep them in line, their
voices rising in frustration. This hectic scene only added to Carl’s own
irritation, making him increasingly annoyed with everyone around him. He started
to question how he was going to handle five hours in such a chaotic environment.

After what felt like an eternity, the gate agent finally called his zone to
board. Gripping his new ticket tightly, Carl shuffled down the jet bridge and
stepped onto the plane. To his frustration, the economy cabin was even more
cramped than he had imagined. Shoulder to shoulder, passengers wedged themselves
into narrow seats as flight attendants offered helpless shrugs.

Carl made his way down the crowded aisle, scanning the rows overhead for his
seat assignment. Finding his row, he attempted to lift his carry-on into the
crammed overhead bin, jammed full of other passengers’ luggage. After several
attempts, he managed to shove it in, the metal edges of the bin cutting into his
fingers.

Sucking in a deep breath, he plopped down in his seat. His knees immediately hit
the seatback in front of him. Carl tried to make himself comfortable, but with
his knees jammed against the seat in front of him, it was futile. He twisted and
turned, attempting to find a position that didn’t leave his legs throbbing in
pain.

The passenger next to him, an elderly woman, shot him an irritated look. “Would
you stop squirming around so much, young man?” she scolded. “Some of us are
trying to relax.”
“Sorry,” Carl muttered, leaning back with a sigh. This was going to be a very
long five hours. He glanced enviously at the passengers up in business class as
they reclined their plush seats and sipped champagne.

Gazing out the window, Carl resigned himself. Just a few more hours of
discomfort and he’d be home. He had to stay positive. For now, he would close
his eyes, retreat into his music, and imagine himself far away on a beach
vacation. However, this quest for peace was soon to be disrupted by the
mischievous kicks of a young boy seated directly behind him.

Just as the cabin doors latched shut with a muffled thud and the flight
attendants briskly moved through the aisles for final safety checks, Carl felt a
sudden, sharp jolt against his lower back. He turned around to see a young boy,
no more than seven years old, his small legs swinging wildly as he repeatedly
kicked the scratchy fabric back of Carl’s seat.

The boy’s mother sat next to him, completely absorbed in her magazine, oblivious
to her son’s antics. As another kick landed squarely against Carl’s spine, he
took a slow, deep breath, inhaling the stale airplane air. He could feel his
patience waning as the child’s dirty sneakers collided with the seat again and
again…

Carl closed his eyes for a moment, reminding himself to stay positive. This
kicking would probably only last a few minutes more until takeoff, he reasoned,
as the plane began accelerating down the runway. The roar of the engines
mounting outside made it harder to ignore each thud against his back.

Carl concentrated on calming his breath, resolutely refusing to let this minor
irritation disrupt his tranquility for the duration of the flight. Perhaps a
gentle request to the boy might do the trick and put an end to the seat kicking.

With this thought, Carl turned around, mustering his most courteous smile,
though fatigue weighed heavily on him, likely giving him the appearance of a
weary man straining to seem friendly. The recent work project had been
demanding, its stress leaving visible marks on him. The last few days had been
especially exhausting, taxing him both mentally and physically. Now, more than
ever, he needed some peace and quiet during this flight.

But the constant kicking from the boy behind him was making it increasingly
difficult to find that peace. Carl realized that he needed to address the
situation somehow. He couldn’t afford to arrive in Seattle frazzled and
exhausted. He needed to be sharp and ready for the continuous demands of his
high-stakes career.

Carl’s polite smile faltered slightly as he caught the boy’s attention. “Hey
there, could you please stop kicking my seat? It’s a bit uncomfortable,” he said
gently, hoping his tone would convey friendliness rather than frustration.

The boy, with a mischievous glint in his dark brown eyes, seemed to pause at
Carl’s voice. For a brief moment, he titled his head and studied Carl with an
innocent yet calculating gaze. Had his polite request worked?

Carl smiled while turning back into his seat. Maybe, just maybe, he would have a
peaceful flight after all, filled with the symphony of low murmurs and the
distant hum of the engines. However, as soon as he turned back, the boy’s grin
widened as he geared up and delivered another firm kick to the back of Carl’s
seat.

But the kicking didn’t just happen once. It started up again, this time with a
steady rhythm, as if the boy was treating Carl’s seat like a drum. Carl’s hands
curled into fists, a clear sign of his growing frustration. This flight was
supposed to be his chance to relax and unwind, not a test of his patience,
leaving him more stressed and tired than before…

“Okay, stay calm. Getting worked up will only worsen things,” Carl silently
coached himself. He took a deep breath, trying to internalize his own pep talk.
This was just a minor disturbance – surely the boy would tire of his game soon
enough. With that hope, Carl focused on regaining his composure, trusting that
before long, he’d be able to relax and enjoy the rest of the flight in peace.

As the plane smoothly taxied and ascended into the sky, Carl settled back in his
seat, his eyes drawn to the tranquil sight of clouds outside his window.
Watching the world from this high up always brought him a quiet sense of relief,
a pause from the hustle of his business world. Embracing this peaceful moment,
Carl made an effort to concentrate on the serene view, attempting to tune out
the persistent kicks against the back of his seat.

But each kick against Carl’s seat felt like a small explosion, jolting him
forward. The thin airline seat cushion provided no protection as the boy’s
sneakers collided forcefully with the plastic composite backing. Thud. Thud. The
impacts came in an unrelenting assault on Carl’s lower back and shoulders.

How could this child have so much strength and stamina in those short, stubby
legs? The kicks were growing harder, the boy putting his full weight into them
now. Each one reverberated through Carl’s tense body. He clenched his teeth,
trying hard to keep his expression neutral, hoping not to draw attention.

However, after enduring a few more forceful kicks, Carl’s patience finally
snapped. He quickly turned around and fixed a stern look on the young boy, whose
cheeky grin disappeared at once. “You sure have a lot of energy, huh?” Carl
said, his voice raised in frustration.

This outburst of frustration immediately drew the gaze of nearby passengers,
casting a momentary, awkward hush over their part of the cabin. Carl turned back
around, feeling his heart pounding from the stir he had caused. He hoped this
incident had finally caught the attention of the boy’s mother, prompting her to
intervene and put an end to her son’s disruptive kicking.

His hope, however, was short-lived. The kicking resumed, each thud against his
seat feeling more deliberate than before. Exasperated, Carl turned around again,
this time directing his plea towards the boy’s mother with a firmness tinted by
his growing anger. “Excuse me, could you please get your son to stop kicking my
seat? It’s very disturbing.”

The woman finally looked up from her magazine, her expression one of mild
annoyance. “Oh, kids will be kids,” she shrugged, her voice dismissive. “He’s
just trying to keep himself occupied on a long flight.”

Carl felt his anger boiling over at her nonchalant response. His voice, sharp
and edged with frustration, cut through the hum of the cabin. “Occupied? At the
expense of others’ comfort? Perhaps, then, it’s a good time for some parenting
lessons,” he retorted, unable to mask his irritation.

The woman’s eyes narrowed, taken aback by Carl’s blunt suggestion. “Excuse me?
Are you suggesting I don’t know how to parent my child?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” Carl snapped, his patience worn thin. “If
I had a son, I assure you, he’d learn to respect others’ personal space,
especially in such confined environments.”

The conversation quickly escalated, their voices rising above the steady hum of
the aircraft. The air around them was charged with tension, punctuated by the
sound of the boy’s sneakers rhythmically hitting the seat. Carl’s voice grew
sharper, his frustration boiling into aggression. “It’s not just about ‘kids
being kids’!” he exclaimed, his tone harsh and accusatory. “It’s about teaching
basic respect for others, something you’re clearly failing at!”

The woman, her annoyance now fully transformed into outright hostility, retorted
with biting sarcasm, “Oh, thank you for the parenting lecture, Mr. Expert! Since
you seem to have all the answers, why don’t you tell me exactly how to keep my
child quiet for your majesty’s comfort?”

Carl’s face flushed with anger. “Maybe start by actually paying attention to
your child instead of burying your head in a magazine! It’s common sense, not
rocket science!” His words were loud enough to draw even more attention from the
surrounding passengers, some of whom shook their heads in disapproval.

The woman, equally incensed, snapped back, “Well, maybe if you had kids of your
own, you’d understand, but clearly, you’re just another selfish person who
thinks the world should revolve around him!”

Their voices rose above the drone of the engines, each statement more cutting
than the last. The boy, sensing the tension, had stopped kicking and was now
watching wide-eyed as the adults argued over his behavior.

The flight attendants, now at their row, attempted to calm the situation.
“Please, let’s lower our voices,” one attendant said soothingly. “We’re
disturbing the other passengers.” But Carl was beyond caring about the
disturbance. “This isn’t just about noise. It’s about teaching respect,
something that’s obviously missing here!” he shouted, his voice echoing through
the cabin.

The woman, undeterred and still fuming, shot back, “And you’re the perfect
example of respect, aren’t you? Yelling at a mother in front of her child!” The
argument had turned into a full-blown spectacle, a harsh and vivid clash of
tempers and perspectives, playing out in the confined space of the airplane
cabin.

Suddenly, the elderly woman seated next to Carl, now turned to him with a stern
but concerned look. “Young man, enough of this now,” she said in a direct,
no-frills tone. “The boy has stopped his kicking, and you dragging out this
argument will not only ruin your peace but everyone else’s here.” She gave a
pointed look around at the other passengers, some still glancing their way.

Carl looked around himself and felt his face flush with red. He was so caught up
in the argument that he didn’t even realize he had caused such a scene. He
realized the woman was right. With a deep sigh, he turned back around, trying to
refocus on the tranquility outside his window.

However, the boy’s mother, overhearing the elderly woman’s advice, couldn’t
resist a final jab. “Yes, listen to the lady. Women are always right, aren’t
they?” she said loudly, her tone dripping with sarcasm. Carl’s hands clenched
into fists once again, his anger reignited by her comment.

He struggled to maintain his composure, his mind racing with retorts. But he
remembered the advice he’d just been given and, with a monumental effort, chose
to remain silent, focusing all his energy on calming his frayed nerves. But then
the kicking started again…

Carl took a deep breath as he felt another kick against his seat. He knew he
needed to handle this situation calmly, for his own peace of mind as well as for
the other passengers. Turning around, he looked at the young boy and gave him a
gentle smile. “Hey buddy, do you think you could stop kicking my seat? It’s
making it hard for me to relax,” he said in a friendly tone.

The boy looked back at him curiously. Carl continued, “I know it’s hard to sit
still on planes. But how about we find something else fun for you to do? I have
a pencil and a notebook you can use to draw.” Just as Carl reached for his bag
to get the items, the boy’s mother leaned over sternly. “Excuse me, but do not
speak directly to my child without my permission,” she said in an accusatory
tone.

Taken aback, Carl stammered, “Oh, I was just trying to—” However, she cut him
off. “I don’t know you, so don’t talk to my son. Talk to me,” she said with a
hardened expression. Carl nodded, trying to hide his boiling anger. He had
genuinely tried to find a peaceful solution, one that would engage the boy and
provide respite from the kicking.

“I was only trying to help, since talking to you clearly doesn’t help,” he
replied, his voice tinged with a mix of surprise and frustration. Carl withdrew
his hand from his bag and turned back around, feeling a combination of disbelief
and exasperation. He wondered how anyone could be this rude.

Carl decided the best thing to do was to stay polite and keep to himself. He
wanted to forget about the whole thing and just be the bigger person. Taking a
deep breath in – a long, slow “pffffff” – he closed his eyes and let out a
gentle “pfffffff” as he exhaled. He tried to remember what his mindfulness
teacher had always said about letting go of things you can’t control. Just as he
was starting to relax and let his thoughts drift – suddenly, his peaceful moment
was shattered by a loud “thump” against his back. The sharp kick broke through
his calm, abruptly pulling him back to the frustrating reality.

The boy, emboldened by his mother’s dismissive attitude, had apparently decided
to restart his little game. Each kick rattled Carl’s seat, grating on his last
nerve. Something in Carl snapped. Enough was enough. If this woman refused to
parent her child properly, he would have to take matters into his own hands…

“It’s time to teach this terrible woman and her son a lesson,” Carl thought to
himself. He stared intensely ahead, formulating a plan for revenge. So engrossed
was he in his scheming that he barely noticed the repeated kicks – ‘thump,
thump, thump’ – against his seat.

After several minutes he had figured out a creative approach to get through to
the mother and son. He quickly waved to one of the stewardesses to come over.
“Excuse me,” Carl said as the stewardess approached. “Could I please get a cup
of water, as cold as possible?”

“Certainly, sir,” the stewardess replied with a polite nod, moving towards the
galley. Carl waited patiently, his plan taking shape in his mind. When the
stewardess returned, she handed him a plastic disposable cup filled with
ice-cold water. Carl thanked her and then carefully held the cup, contemplating
his next move.

As the plane continued its smooth flight, Carl could feel the tension in his
body. He held the cup of ice-cold water, its chill seeping into his fingers. He
glanced back briefly, noticing the young boy still grinning mischievously, his
feet poised for another round of kicks. The mother, still engrossed in her
magazine, remained oblivious to the situation brewing behind her.

Carl took a deep breath, steadying his nerves for what he was about to do. He
had to time this perfectly. He waited, the cold water condensing on the outside
of the cup, forming tiny droplets that slid down onto his hand.

Then, as if on cue, another kick landed squarely against the back of Carl’s
seat. It was the final straw. Carl feigned a startled reaction, jerking forward
dramatically. In his exaggerated movement, he ‘accidentally’ tipped the cup of
water backward. The ice-cold water sloshed out of the cup, spilling over the
unsuspecting mother.

The mother let out a startled yelp, her magazine dropping to the floor as she
felt the cold water drench her clothes. The boy, too, was caught off guard, his
eyes widening in shock as small droplets of cold water splashed over him. “I’m
so sorry!” Carl exclaimed, turning around with a look of feigned concern. “I was
just so startled by the kick. I didn’t mean to spill this water.”

The mother, now visibly flustered and damp, struggled to find words. “What
the—why would you—” she stammered, her previous composure shattered by the
unexpected drenching. Carl continued, “It’s quite difficult to hold onto things
when one’s seat is being kicked repeatedly, you see.”

The passengers around them had seen everything that happened. Their reactions
were mixed. Some nodded sympathetically at Carl. They seemed to understand his
frustration, probably having been annoyed by seat kicking themselves. Their
faces showed they felt sorry for Carl.

However, not everyone felt the same way. A few passengers shook their heads in
visible disapproval, their whispers weaving through the cabin air. Carl could
catch only fragments of their hushed yet critical conversations. Phrases like “A
grown man…” and “absolutely ridiculous…” floated to his ears, their tones laced
with judgment.

The boy, now silent and wide-eyed, seemed to realize the consequence of his
actions. His playful grin had faded, replaced by a look of surprise and a hint
of regret.
The flight attendants quickly arrived at the scene, offering towels and
apologies. “Is everything alright here?” one of them asked, concern evident in
her voice.

Before the woman could even respond, Carl nodded, managing a calm response.
“Yes, it was just an unfortunate accident. I got startled and spilled my water.”
He gave a meaningful glance towards the boy and his mother, ensuring his message
was clear.

The mother, now dabbing at her wet clothes with a towel, avoided Carl’s gaze,
her earlier defiance replaced with embarrassment. The boy sat quietly, no longer
kicking, perhaps pondering the direct result of his earlier actions.

For the remainder of the flight, the seat behind Carl remained still. No more
kicks came. The mother and her son sat quietly, their earlier bravado dampened
by the cold splash of reality. Carl leaned back in his seat, a small smile
playing on his lips.

As the plane began its descent, Carl looked out his window feeling a sense of
satisfaction. His unorthodox method had succeeded in stopping the incessant
kicking and teaching that rude mother and son a lesson they wouldn’t soon
forget. Still, as he watched the clouds drift by below, a hint of unease crept
in. Had he gone too far? While effective, his revenge clearly disrupted the
flight and upset other passengers.

Carl considered the irony of how in trying to defend his peace and quiet, he had
sacrificed both – if only temporarily. But he quickly dismissed any misgivings.
They had started it after all! He had simply finished it, creatively and
decisively.

Still, Carl sighed, realizing he hadn’t gotten the relaxing flight home he had
hoped for. He gathered his things as the plane touched down. There was no use
dwelling on it now. What’s done is done. He had just one thought as he stepped
off the plane: next time, he was definitely springing for first class.

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