Have you ever been stuck on a flight with the kind of passengers who think the rules don’t apply to them? Well, that’s exactly what happened to me on a fourteen-hour journey that started out with high hopes and quickly spiraled into chaos thanks to a pair of entitled newlyweds who treated our flight like their personal honeymoon suite.

I’m Toby, 35 years old, and I’d been counting the minutes until I could finally hug my wife and kid after a long business trip. I even splurged on a premium economy seat to make the grueling flight more bearable. Just as I was settling in, the guy next to me—Dave—introduced himself and asked me to switch seats with his wife, who was stuck in economy. I politely declined, explaining that I had paid a hefty fee for the extra comfort, but offered to switch if he reimbursed the thousand Australian dollars I had spent. Dave was less than thrilled and muttered, “You’ll regret this,” setting the tone for what was to come.

From there, things got ugly. Dave began hacking up a storm, clearly trying to irritate me. Then he blasted an action movie on his iPad without headphones, claiming he’d forgotten them. His snack habits were just as disruptive—he managed to get more crumbs on me than in his mouth, and didn’t even bother to apologize. As if that wasn’t enough, his wife Lia suddenly appeared and sat on his lap, acting like we were in some cheesy rom-com rather than a packed plane.

I tried to ignore them, burying my face in a book and pretending they weren’t practically making out a foot from my face. But after an hour, I’d had enough and flagged down a flight attendant. I calmly explained that these two had turned our row into a circus. She took one look at the scene—Lia perched on Dave’s lap, popcorn-worthy chaos all around—and told them they had to follow airline safety rules. Lia pouted, fluttered her lashes, and asked for an exception since they were “celebrating,” but the attendant stood her ground. When they refused to comply quietly, the stewardess ordered both of them back to economy class for their disruptive behavior.

Dave tried to protest, but she reminded him the seat upgrade had been a courtesy—and that courtesy had just expired. As they shuffled past, red-faced and defeated, I couldn’t resist a sarcastic, “Enjoy your honeymoon,” which earned me a few chuckles and even a thumbs-up from an older man across the aisle. That little victory sip of whiskey and cola that followed was made sweeter by the sudden calm that settled over the cabin. But the drama wasn’t over. Later, during a bout of turbulence, Lia stood up and insisted she needed to use the front bathroom because of a “medical emergency.”

Dave backed her up, saying the rear bathroom was “occupied.” A different flight attendant hesitantly allowed it, clearly not informed of their earlier antics. As they tried to pass my row, I stood and blocked them, reminding them loudly that they were supposed to stay in the back. They tried to brush me off, but I flagged down the original flight attendant and explained the situation. She quickly set things straight and sent them back to economy, this time threatening to get the air marshal involved if they didn’t comply. The rest of the flight was gloriously peaceful. As we landed in LAX, the captain’s announcement was music to my ears.

I was finally going home. As I gathered my things, the stewardess thanked me for my patience and professionalism, and I returned the gratitude, commending her for how she handled the situation. As I passed Dave and Lia’s row one last time, I couldn’t resist a final jab—“Hope you learned something today. Enjoy your honeymoon!” Dave’s face turned crimson, but he stayed silent. Walking off that plane, I felt victorious and ready to move on. The moment I saw my wife and child waiting for me, all the frustration faded. In the end, the lesson was clear: love may be in the air, but basic manners should be too.