Who controls the window?
A few weeks ago, I boarded my flight back to the States after my trip to Spain. I'd ended up with a window seat and was looking forward to getting some great shots from the air since it was a daytime flight. After I settled in, a man sat beside me in the middle but he seemed rather uncomfortable. Fidgeting, he futzed with his phone, adjusting his earbuds, bumping me several times. Ignoring him, I figured he'd calm down in a minute since we were about to depart. However, he spread out his legs, ending up with his right foot in between my feet. I glared at him, and when he didn't notice this in the least, I gave his foot a hard tap with mine. And he didn't budge. Giving up, I removed my shoes and tucked my feet up onto my carry-on under the seat in front of me. The plane began to move, he continued to send texts to whomever. He shifted a bit more, his shoulder now firmly resting on mine. Debating about saying something, I pushed him hard with my shoulder instead. With no