I’m flying up to New York from London. I overhear (and see) one of the flight attendants talking to a little boy.

Flight Attendant: “Wow! You’re four years old? Are you in school?”

Little Boy: *Looking at her like she’s an idiot.* “No, I’m in an airplane.”

Flight Attendant: *Smiles, and says to the mom.* “I work with five savage gay men, and that is the most sassy thing I’m gonna hear all day.”

At the start of a very long flight, a family with two little boys files into the row across from my husband and me. The kids are constantly fighting and screaming at each other.

My husband leans over to the dad and says:

Husband: “Can you please split them up? This is really unpleasant.”

Dad: “No! I am going to let my kids be kids.”

Husband: “Okay then…” *My husband then turns to me and says in a loud voice.* “So, whattup, monkey butt?”

I glared at him, trying to stop his flow before it started.

Husband: “I said whattup, monkey butt? You’ve got to reply, not much, butt munch!”

The kids start to giggle. The dad leans over.

Dad: “Don’t swear in front of my kids.”

Husband: “A**hole, we’ve got a fourteen-hour flight, so you can either parent your children and shut them up or I will teach them a million sing-song repetitive phrases you don’t want them chanting around your parents and in-laws.”

The dad glared at us, then moved one of his children to the other side of the row and set them up to watch cartoons.

Dad: *To my husband.* “You’re a f****** a**hole.”

Husband: “Yeah, but I’m an a**hole who doesn’t have to listen to your dumb-f*** kids screeching like banshees because their dad’s too much of a soft-c*ck to give them a little guidance and teach them how to live in society.”

My husband’s a monster, but I love him because I get to sleep safely, soundly, and peacefully when he’s around.

CORRECTION: An uncensored swear word has been censored.

I’m on a flight from the USA to Canada. I travel for work, so I am a frequent flyer and am on a first-name basis with a lot of the flight attendants on this route. I overhear a passenger getting angry with one of the attendants:

Flight Attendant: “Sir! I have told you, you cannot vape on this plane! It is against the law! I was giving you the benefit of the doubt before, but I will be informing the captain, who will decide if he wants to inform authorities when we land.”

Passenger: “Stop being such a miserable old hag! It was one quick puff! It’s just a two-hour flight, so don’t get your t**ties in a twist!”

Flight Attendant: “Yes, sir, a two-hour flight, and you can’t stay away from your vape for that short period of time. I don’t think I’m the one who’s getting anything twisted. Do not make me have to talk to you again.”

The passenger sneers, but seems to realize what deep s*** they’re putting themselves into and stops causing a scene.

A little later, I am speaking to the flight attendant.

Me: “What a jerk! It must be so tiring to deal with people like that all the time.”

Flight Attendant: “Yeah… but it does make it more fun when I walk down the aisle of the plane, look certain passengers in the eyes, and call them trash.”

Side note, security was there to “greet” that specific passenger at the airport when we landed…

CONTENT WARNING: Mention of domestic abuse.

Last year, I was taking a flight to Florida to visit my parents for Thanksgiving. I’ve got mild social anxiety, and I hate getting sick, especially around the holidays, so I’m slightly annoyed and nervous when the flight attendant directs the last person to board, a woman slightly older than me, to the seat next to me. I get even more nervous about getting sick when I hear that she seems to be sniffing really hard, like she really needs to put effort into breathing. Eventually, she catches me making nervous glances in her direction and smiles.

Woman: “Don’t worry, I’m not sick.”

I start thinking that maybe she just has allergies or asthma. Even so, I’m still paranoid about sickness, and can’t get the thought out of my head… until about ten minutes into the flight, when I glance over and see that she’s looking at her phone and bawling her eyes out. I don’t say anything because it’s none of my business, and again, social anxiety, but I keep looking over at her crying and agonizing over what the hell could’ve hurt her so badly. 

The best theory that I could think of was that she had just learned that someone she loved had passed away.

Around halfway through the flight, we have to interact for some reason, probably the attendant delivering a drink, and I finally take the opportunity to say something:

Me: “Hey, uh… I don’t know what happened, but whatever it is, I’m sorry.”

Woman: “Thank you, uh… I’m… I’m leaving an abusive man.”

I’m too shocked to leave it at that, so she ends up going through a bunch of things the man did to hurt her. Among other delightful tidbits, she mentions how her best friend was killed in an armed robbery, and her gem of a boyfriend went on to say it was her fault during an argument. But the thing that boils my blood the most is when she tells me what made the dam burst: just a couple hours ago, still p***ed at getting rightfully dumped, this shining example of humanity had sent her a text saying, and I quote: “I hope your plane crashes.”

Me: “I… I’m so sorry. That’s f***ed up.”

Woman: “I know. But it’s okay. I’m done with him. I’ve got plenty of friends and family who love me, and they’ve all been texting me and telling me that they’re proud of me and vowing to be there for me no matter what. That’s why I’ve been crying. These are happy tears. I’m just so relieved that it’s over.”

Me: “That’s good… That’s great, actually. I’ve… I’ve never been in a romantic relationship, but I’ve been in a toxic friendship before. I know how hard it is to break off from someone when you think you need them.”

We go back and forth about our relationships for the rest of the flight, and find that what our respective abusers put us through matches up surprisingly well, though I see one pretty big difference…

Me: “At least you told him it was over. I never had the guts for that. My guy and I just drifted apart after high school, and eventually I realized what an a**hole he was and just stopped responding to his messages. I pretty much ghosted him. The fact that you had the guts to dump that b*****d after everything he did makes you way stronger than me.”

We’re both a lot happier and chipper by the end of the flight. About half an hour after landing, I was waiting for my bags in baggage claim, having met up with my parents by this point, when I saw the woman walk in.

Me: “Hey! Are you doing better?”

Woman: “Oh, hi! Yes, thank you. I’m all cried out now.”

We ended up talking again while waiting for our bags. I recommended a song that I felt would lift her spirits, and she shook hands with my parents and me before we parted ways.

A little extra tidbit that I found a bit amusing: During the whole conversation in baggage claim, I noticed my mom very conspicuously turned away from us. After I explained the whole context, she admitted that she saw me approach this random woman and thought I was trying to flirt with her, and got curious because that was so unlike me… until she heard the words “I’m all cried out now” and immediately broke off from her eavesdropping to avoid intruding on something serious.

I’m a frequent flyer. On this flight, I’m seated next to a self-important man, the kind who insists on being addressed as “Doctor.” He spends most of the flight chewing out a particular flight attendant. Every service interaction turns into an interrogation or insult.

The man doesn’t know he’s surrounded by about ten journalists, all on the same flight, all on our way to a conference. We sit quietly and listen to his ranting for hours.

When the plane lands, and we’re standing in the aisle waiting to disembark, he makes his big move.

Passenger: “I want your name so I can complain to your superiors about your attitude and service. You’re gonna lose your job!”

We all look at each other, stunned. I speak up, loud enough for everyone around to hear, to the flight attendant.

Me: “Mate, I work for [prestige publication]. Here’s my business card. If your supervisor has any questions about what occurred on this flight, please have them call me, and I’ll set the record straight. Your service was professional and above and beyond.”

One by one, every journalist in our group hands the flight attendant a card and says something similar.

The self-styled Doctor grows silent. Then sheepish. Then very, very small. 

He exits the plane to a wall of unfriendly looks.

Three weeks later, I board another long-haul and a familiar face greets me at the door.

Fight Attendant: “Well, look who it is!”

We laugh about the incident. He tells me he never needed to use the stack of journalist cards we gave him as the angry Doctor never filed a complaint. But he kept them anyway, just in case.