The aircraft had climbed to cruising altitude, the cabin lights had softened, and passengers around us were settling into their own routines.
Some were watching movies. Others were reading, sleeping, or talking quietly with their traveling companions.
Meanwhile, the man behind me continued behaving as though the airplane cabin belonged to him.
His bare foot remained on my armrest.
Every time I shifted my arm, I was reminded of his presence.
The smell was unpleasant, the intrusion was unnecessary, and the sheer audacity of his behavior made the situation increasingly difficult to ignore.
What bothered me most, however, was not simply the foot itself.
It was the attitude behind it.
When I had politely asked him to move, he had not appeared confused or embarrassed.
He had not apologized for accidentally crossing a boundary. Instead, he had deliberately refused, apparently expecting me to accept the inconvenience without complaint.
People like that often rely on the assumption that others will avoid confrontation.
