They say love is in the air, but on this flight, it was pure chaos. I’m Marigold, a 60-year-old grandmother heading home to see my granddaughter, Selene, and my son’s family after a long trip abroad. I was counting down the minutes until I could hug them. Then, two entitled newlyweds turned my 14-hour flight into a battle at 30,000 feet.
I’d splurged on a premium economy seat for this journey. At my age, every inch of legroom feels like a gift from above.
As I settled in, feeling good about my choice, the young man next to me cleared his throat.
“Hi there,” he said, flashing a grin. “I’m Torin. I hate to ask, but could you switch seats with my wife? We just got married, and, well… you know.”
