I was prepared for a long flight from London to New York. After a grueling swimming competition, I was exhausted and just wanted to sleep. I settled into my middle seat, hoping for a quiet journey. The woman in the window seat looked equally tired, and we exchanged weary smiles.

Then came Karen, the aisle-seat passenger who would ruin our flight. From the moment she sat down, she started huffing and shifting, clearly unhappy with her spot.

“Oh boy,” the window-seat woman sighed.

As the plane took off, Karen pressed the call button three times in quick succession. A flight attendant approached.

“Ma’am, how can I help you?”

“This seat is unacceptable!” Karen snapped loudly enough for nearby rows to hear. “I can’t even breathe next to these two!”

She glared at me and the woman next to the window, who was trying to disappear into her seat.

“I’m sorry, but we’re fully booked today. There’s nowhere else for you to move,” the attendant replied.

“You mean there’s not one seat available on this flight? What about business class?” Karen demanded.

“Unfortunately, no,” the attendant said.

“Then I want them moved! I paid for this seat, and it’s not fair I have to be squished!” Karen elbowed me in the arm for emphasis.

Trying to stay calm, I said, “We’re all just trying to get through this flight. There’s nothing wrong with the seating.”

“Nothing wrong? Are you kidding me?” Karen barked.

She continued her tirade for what felt like hours, kicking my legs and elbowing me. By the fourth hour, I was done.

“Look,” I said, “we can either keep this up or try to make the best of it. Why not watch a movie?”

She shot back, “Why don’t you tell her to go on a diet? And why don’t you learn to book seats that fit you?”

All while, she kept pressing the call button.

Finally, a flight attendant approached her again. “Ma’am, if you don’t calm down, we’ll have to ask you to stay seated and stop pressing the call button unless it’s an emergency.”

“Oh, this is an emergency!” Karen shouted. “My rights are being violated!”

The rest of the flight dragged on with her sighing and muttering, making everyone miserable.

When we finally landed, I was relieved. But Karen shot out of her seat, ignoring the seatbelt sign and the attendants calling her back. She rushed to the front, standing by the curtain separating business class from economy.

Then, the captain’s voice came over the intercom: “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to New York! We have a special guest onboard today.”

A collective groan rippled through the cabin.

“We ask everyone to remain seated as I greet this special passenger.”

Karen perked up, looking smug. The captain, a calm man, approached her.

“Excuse me, ma’am. I need to get past you.”

“Oh, of course,” she said, surprised.

He guided her back down the aisle, stopping at our row.

“Ah, here we are,” he said, his voice booming. “Ladies and gentlemen, our special guest is sitting in seat 42C. Can we all give her a round of applause?”

Silence followed, then laughter and clapping erupted throughout the cabin. Karen’s face turned bright red. She stood frozen, humiliated, as the captain took a bow.

“That was worth the eight hours,” I said, leaning back with a grin.

As we filed out, the window-seat woman said, “I’m glad it’s over. Let’s hope we don’t end up next to a Karen again!”

“Here’s hoping,” I replied, finally able to laugh.