On a 12-hour flight, the 10-year-old girl behind me spent two straight hours kicking the back of my seat while her mother snapped, “She’s a child. Deal with it.”
When they finally left for the restroom, I noticed something that gave me another reason to do what I should have done much earlier: call a flight attendant.
My name is Adrian, and I’m a cardiac surgeon in Chicago.
I had just finished a medical conference in Tokyo and was exhausted. My work often sends me to other cities and countries, so I’m used to long flights and difficult passengers.
But I’d never met anyone as rude as the woman sitting behind me that day.
My job demands absolute focus. Some surgeries last for hours, and one mistake can change a life forever.
So when I boarded the flight home, all I wanted was to sleep.
I’d been away for a week, and I was already imagining kissing my wife and wrapping my arms around my two sons.
Eventually, I dozed off.
I was sitting in a hot spring surrounded by snowy mountains.
Snow monkeys everywhere. They soaked peacefully, like retired accountants on vacation.
I closed my eyes. Finally, some peace.
THUMP.
Something hit me in the back.
THUMP.
A small monkey sat behind me, staring at the sky like he had never met a spine in his life.
“Hey, buddy. I’m trying to relax.”
He tilted his head.
THUMP. THUMP.
Now there were two.
“Seriously? It’s an entire mountain. Go bother someone else.”
One of them jumped up and slammed into me.
BANG.
My eyes snapped open. Seat back. Dark window. Engine hum.
Right. The plane.
I drifted off again. Five monkeys this time. One sat on my head, one pulled my ear, and one used my back as a drum.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
“What is wrong with you people?”
The biggest one stuck out his tongue.
BANG.
I woke up for real.
Someone was kicking my seat. Rhythmically. With commitment.
At first, I tried to ignore it. After twenty minutes, I turned around.
A ten-year-old girl in pink sneakers stared straight into my eyes.
THUMP.
“Are you kidding me?”
Next to her, her mother was glued to a tablet.
A Turkish soap opera, judging by the man in the expensive suit shouting at a crying woman.
She wore giant noise-canceling headphones. The tablet was plugged into a fat power bank wedged beside her seat cushion.
“Excuse me, ma’am. Could you ask your daughter to stop kicking my seat?”
She pulled off one earcup.
“She’s a child. Deal with it.”
“I noticed. She also has great aim. This has been going on for almost half an hour.”
“Then move.”
“Where? The wing?”
She rolled her eyes and went back to her show.
The girl smiled and kicked again.
Great. One of the monkeys had followed me onto the plane.
“Hey, sweetheart. Could you keep your feet down?”
“Mom says you have to deal with it.”
“Your mom says a lot of things.”
“She says that one a lot.”
“I bet she does.”
“Are you going to tell on me?”
“Only if you keep kicking.”
She kicked. Twice. Out of principle.
“Mom never does anything.”
“Yes. I noticed that too.”
I’d had three hours of sleep, a week of conference meetings, and a twelve-hour flight between me and my own bed. All I wanted was a nap. Not a miracle. A nap.
I tried a pillow. A blanket. Sitting sideways like a pretzel.
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
I turned around again.
“Ma’am, your daughter is still kicking my seat.”
“And you’re still complaining.”
“I’m consistent. It’s one of my better qualities.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t fly if you can’t stand kids.”
“I have two of my own.”
“Then you should understand!”
“I do. That’s why I taught them not to kick strangers.”
“Don’t tell me how to raise my daughter!”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m still waiting for you to start.”
She put her headphones back on, slowly, like a gunslinger holstering a weapon.
I operate on hearts for a living. I know a thing or two about rhythm. This kid had none.
An hour later, Lily got bored with my seat and tried her mother instead.
“Mom, I’m bored!”
“Watch something, honey.”
“I don’t want to!”
“Then find something else to do!”
Lily looked at the back of my seat.
BANG.
I turned around one more time.
“Listen, mister,” her mother said. “She’s a CHILD. Children get bored. Children move. If you wanted peace and quiet, you should’ve bought a private jet!”
“I’ll keep that in mind next time I’m buying groceries.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Enjoy your show.”
On the screen, the man was now the one crying.
Finally, someone on that tablet was having a worse day than me.
By the time two hours had passed, I’d counted somewhere past four hundred kicks and given up.
Then the mother pulled off her headphones.
“Lily, come on. Bathroom.”
“But I don’t need to go!”
“Well, I do. Move.”
They marched down the aisle.
Silence. Beautiful, ringing silence.
I almost cried.
Then I smelled something.
Hot plastic.
I stood and leaned over. The tablet sat on her tray, still plugged in.
The power bank beside the seat cushion looked slightly puffed up, and the cable was bent at a sharp angle.
I wasn’t inventing anything. It really smelled.
For two hours, I had begged that woman to give her daughter some attention. Now I had a feeling she was about to give Lily her undivided attention.
I pressed the call button.
A flight attendant arrived. Her name tag said Emily.
“Can I help you, sir?”
“I think something’s wrong with the electronics behind me.”
“What kind of problem?”
“It smells like overheated plastic. And the battery looks swollen.”
“Do you see any smoke?”
“No. But I figured you’d want to know before I do.”
She leaned in and sniffed. Her smile disappeared.
“Did you touch it?”
“No, ma’am. I’m a surgeon. I know better than to poke swollen things.”
“Good. Please stay in your seat.”
She called over the senior flight attendant. Two minutes later, they had unplugged everything, bagged it, and carried it off toward the galley.
I sat there looking like a Sunday school teacher.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
“Just a precaution, sir.”
“Safety first.”
I tried my best to hide my Cheshire Cat grin.
I watched the tablet disappear.
I’d spent two hours negotiating with a ten-year-old’s sneakers. Turns out, a battery was a much better listener.
The mother and Lily came back.
She sat down, reached for her tray, and froze.
“Where’s my tablet?”
I said nothing.
She checked under the seat. The seat pocket. Then she looked at me.
Her face went red.
“What did you do?!”
I looked up at her and smiled.
“Good news. Your seat’s still here.”
“You took my tablet!”
“I’m a surgeon, ma’am. Not a magician.”
“Don’t play dumb with me!”
“Trust me, I’m not enjoying this conversation enough to play anything.”
She jabbed the call button. Emily came back.
“Where is my tablet?”
“Ma’am, the power bank was overheating. We have to follow safety procedure.”
“There was nothing wrong with it!”
“It was unusually hot, and the battery was swollen. The crew will keep it until it’s checked.”
“He did this!”
She pointed at me.
“He’s angry because my daughter kicked his seat!”
I turned around slowly.
“So you did notice.”
She blinked.
“That’s not what I meant!”
“Of course not.”
“I want to speak to your supervisor!”
“I’ll ask the senior flight attendant to come over,” Emily said.
“I paid for this flight!”
“So did I,” I said quietly. “Mine didn’t include a massage package.”
She dropped into her seat and pulled out her phone.
Four percent.
Her headphones blinked red and died in her hands.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!”
“Something wrong?”
“Shut up!”
“Just checking.”
She turned the phone off and gripped it like the last lifeboat on a sinking ship.
No tablet. No headphones. No soap opera.
I put on my sleep mask.
I thought losing her show would be the worst part of her flight.
If we’re going to suffer, we’re going to suffer together.
