I’ve always been a patient person. I got to practice my patience when my father remarried following my mom’s death. So, when my in-laws tried to get me to break up with my husband before we could get married, I just used what I had learned earlier in life to withstand their onslaught.
You know, sometimes trying to find your place in someone else’s family can be really tricky. At least, it was for me when I met my husband’s family. See, I’m originally from Morocco, while my husband, Jeremy, was raised by an extremely conservative family from Georgia. That should be enough to give you an idea of what I faced.
Man and woman on a date | Source: Getty Images
I immigrated to the US shortly after my mother passed away. I was 11 at the time, and it felt like my entire world was coming to an end. To add to this, my dad married a new woman only a little over a year after Mom’s death. Naturally, adjusting to life in a new country and coming to terms that there was a new woman in my mom’s place was jarring.
My stepmom wasn’t a bad person, but we never got along. I think she felt insecure about the fact that she could never have kids, so she would often be mean and distant toward my sister and me. She used to try to upset us all the time by doing petty things that she knew would make us uncomfortable, but luckily my mom had taught me to always smile when people were intentionally being mean to me.
A young girl in an airplane | Source: Getty Images
This turned out to be a great defense mechanism, and my stepmom couldn’t bear that her tricks weren’t working on me. Eventually, things died down and we made our peace, but I would never forget how effective it was to just smile through whatever petty new ploy she had devised to try and upset me. It truly was one of the greatest gifts my mom had ever given me.
But my stepmom was a minor hindrance compared to Jeremy’s family. When I met them for the first time, I knew I was in for a lengthy cold war.
A woman yelling at a young girl | Source: Getty Images
I met Leona, Jeremy’s mom, and the rest of the Fergus family at one of their family dinners. By that time, I had been dating Jeremy for almost a year, and they had used every excuse to avoid inviting me to their dinners. This time, Jeremy ensured that they couldn’t weasel out of meeting me, and he even told his mom to prepare a few dishes that I could eat, since I steer clear of any pork and alcohol.
While my loving boyfriend was sure there would be something for me, I knew better than to just blindly trust people who clearly had misgivings about me to respect my personal choices, so I ate as I would before a fast and prepared myself for sitting around the dinner table while everyone enjoyed their meal.
A large dinner table with people sitting around it | Source: Getty Images
When we showed up at Jeremy’s parents’ house, the family greeted me with half-hearted smiles and quick hugs before we all settled down to eat. I knew the greetings would be awkward and stiff, but what I didn’t anticipate was Leona bringing a peppy blonde woman up to me with a huge smile and saying, “Oh, Aleah, you just have to meet Diane, Jeremy’s last girlfriend. We’re all still very close and I thought you two might hit it off.”
Diane looked slightly embarrassed, and shook my hand with a smile that seemed to say, “I’m sorry, I know, but what could I do?” I introduced myself and we exchanged a few pleasantries before she greeted Jeremy with a huge hug. She immediately launched into a conversation with him about what was going on in his life, ignoring me completely. Jeremy answered a few questions, grabbed my hand, and steered me to our seats.
A woman shaking another woman’s hand | Source: Getty Images
At the table, things just got worse. Leona opened all the dishes, and every single thing had pork in it. The mac and cheese had bacon bits in, the mashed potatoes had lard in, and even the turkey was wrapped in bacon. After unveiling all the food, Jeremy’s mom looked at me, apologized for all the pork, and offered me a drink. “I don’t drink, but I’ll gladly take a glass of water,” I said with a smile. Slightly crestfallen, Leona got up to get me one.
During the meal, the entire family kept making off-handed, passive-aggressive, and slightly racist comments clearly directed toward me. Meanwhile, Diane was showered with compliments. You’d expect she was royalty with how the family sucked up to her. But I knew exactly how to handle the situation.
A woman enjoying a glass of water | Source: Getty Images
Instead of letting my annoyance show, I once again employed my mom’s wisdom. I smiled at every so-called joke, and even threw a few of my own compliments at Diane. I told Leona how lovely the spread looked, and thanked her profusely when she went to refill my cup of water. I could see Jeremy’s mom seething at my pleasant demeanor.
The night ended and we said our goodbyes. I refrained from complaining to Jeremy about his family. I could handle it. But things didn’t get better from there. Family dinners were suddenly off-limits to anyone who wasn’t also a Fergus — although Diane was apparently an exception — so I would often spend Christmas on my own or with my sister. They never drove a wedge between myself and Jeremy, and imagine their shock when he eventually proposed.
Two sisters celebrating Christmas together | Source: Getty Images
Now, Leona and the rest of the family never bothered to learn anything about my culture. They assumed the wedding would be a regular ceremony, but Jeremy and I had planned on blending traditions. So when all the women, Diane included, showed up wearing white, I was all smiles, complimenting their outfits all the way. This didn’t go down well.
Meanwhile, my outfits were made up of every color imaginable, and I outshone them in every photo. There’s even one picture of Leona with the biggest sour expression I had ever seen. It was a wonderful day.
A traditional wedding dress | Source: Getty Images
But the unspoken feud came to a head last Christmas when Leona suggested I host. Naturally, I accepted, even though I knew she only offered because she hoped I would be overwhelmed. Fortunately, she didn’t count on the fact that I often cooked, and had been since I was a young girl. So my spread was something to marvel at.
Mashed potatoes, mac and cheese, turkey, glazed ham, Brussels sprouts, green bean casserole, roasted carrots, and potatoes, freshly baked bread, corn bread, and an entire assortment of pies. Even I was impressed. But of course, with her plan in ruins, Leona did the next best thing. She started shouting at me.
A big dinner | Source: Getty Images
“You’ve got to be kidding me! How could you of all people have managed this?! I know you hired a catering company, Aleah! Just to make me look bad. Admit it!”
Surprised at her outright anger, I looked at her, then at Jeremy. Luckily he stepped in.
“Mom, Aleah slaved away for two days to make sure we had a great Christmas dinner. I don’t think you acting like this is very mature or fair. She has been nothing but a good host, and you accuse her of being petty, like a child who had hoped to one-up someone. I think you owe her an apology, or you should leave.”
There was a long pause. Everyone wondered what would happen next, plates in hand.
A woman cooking dinner | Source: Getty Images
Leona took a deep breath and looked at me. “You won,” she muttered and sat down dejectedly. Before Jeremy could say another word, I walked over to my mother-in-law, got on my knees before her, and took her hands in mine. “Leona, this isn’t a competition. I love your son deeply and I don’t want this cold war between us.”
She looked at me with new-found respect, and I could see the hatchet was buried. The war between us ended with a big hug and a great dinner, and although we still differ about things, we have grown quite fond of each other over the last few months.
Entitled Mom on the Flight Broke My Daughter’s iPad – She Regretted It Sooner Than I Could Have Imagined
An entitled mom thought breaking my little daughter’s iPad would end her son’s tantrums. But what came next left her more panicked than I could’ve imagined. Karma works fast… even at 30,000 feet!
I, Bethany, 35 years old, never thought a two-hour flight could change so much. But there I was, settling into my seat with my five-year-old daughter Ella next to me. As the plane taxied down the runway, I breathed a sigh of relief. Ella was contentedly watching cartoons on her iPad, headphones snug on her ears…
A cheerful little girl holding a tablet | Source: Freepik
“You comfy, sweetie?” I asked, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.
Ella nodded, her eyes glued to the screen. “Uh-huh. Can I have juice later?”
“Of course,” I smiled, reaching for my book. “Just let me know when you’re thirsty.”
As I cracked open my novel, movement across the aisle caught my eye. A family of three had just sat down: a couple and a little boy around Ella’s age. He was squirming in his seat, whining loudly.
Grayscale of a little boy throwing a tantrum | Source: Pexels
“I’m bored!” he wailed, kicking the seat in front of him.
His mother shushed him. “We told you, no screens on this trip. Be a good boy.”
The boy’s whining intensified, and I saw his gaze lock onto Ella’s iPad.
Oh boy, I thought. This might be a long flight.
A little boy crying | Source: Pexels
Twenty minutes in, a tap on my shoulder made me look up. The mom from across the aisle was leaning towards me, a tight smile on her face.
“Hi there! I couldn’t help but notice your daughter’s iPad. We’ve decided to be responsible parents and not give our son any screen time this vacation. Would you mind putting that away? It’s making him upset.”
I blinked, stunned by her audacity. “Excuse me?”
“It’s just… it’s not fair to him, you know?”
An annoyed woman sitting in an airplane | Source: Midjourney
I took a deep breath, reminding myself to stay calm. “I’m sorry, but no. My daughter’s using it to stay calm during the flight.”
The woman’s smile vanished instantly. “Wow, really? You’d rather ruin our family trip than have your daughter take a break from her precious screen?”
“Listen,” I said, my patience wearing thin, “she’s quietly minding her own business. Your son could do the same if you’d brought him something to do.”
An annoyed woman | Source: Midjourney
The woman, let’s just call her “Entitled Mom (EM)” was visibly frustrated.
“Some parents just can’t say no to their kids these days. No wonder they all end up spoiled.”
I turned back to my book, hoping that would end the conversation. But I could feel her glare burning into the side of my head.
“Everything okay, Mommy?” Ella asked, momentarily looking up from her show.
“Everything’s fine, sweetie. Just keep watching your cartoons.”
Little girl holding a tablet in an airplane | Source: Pexels
The next hour was tense. The boy’s tantrum escalated, his wails piercing through the cabin noise.
His parents shot us dirty looks every few minutes, as if we were personally responsible for their poor planning.
“I want that!” the boy shrieked, pointing at Ella’s iPad. “It’s not fair!”
His mother leaned over. “I know, honey. Some people are just SELFISH!”
I gritted my teeth, focusing on my book. The words blurred as I tried to block out the chaos around us. Ella remained oblivious, lost in her cartoons.
Grayscale of a sad boy | Source: Pexels
Suddenly, a commotion erupted beside us. Entitled Mom had leaned across the aisle, reaching for her bag. But instead of grabbing her belongings, her arm knocked into Ella’s tray table.
Time seemed to slow as I watched Ella’s iPad slide off the tray. It hit the floor with a sickening crack, the screen shattering into a spiderweb of fractures.
Ella’s scream cut through the air. “Mommy, my iPad!”
A tablet with a shattered screen | Source: Midjourney
Entitled Mom’s face lit with fake surprise. “Oh no! I didn’t mean to do that! So clumsy of me!”
But I saw the glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes. This was NO ACCIDENT.
“What is wrong with you?” I hissed.
She shrugged, not even trying to hide her smugness. “These things happen. Maybe it’s a sign she needs less screen time.”
Two women arguing | Source: Midjourney
I was about to unleash a torrent of words that would make a sailor blush when a flight attendant appeared.
“Is everything alright here?” she asked, eyeing the shattered iPad.
Entitled Mom’s act kicked into high gear. “Oh, it was just a terrible accident. I feel awful!”
I opened my mouth to argue, but the flight attendant cut me off with a sympathetic smile.
“I’m so sorry about your device, ma’am. Unfortunately, there’s not much we can do mid-flight. Please let us know if you need anything else.”
A flight attendant smiling | Source: Midjourney
As she walked away, I turned to comfort my distraught daughter, knowing this battle was far from over. But it seemed karma had other plans.
With Ella’s iPad out of commission, the boy’s tantrum reached new heights. He bounced in his seat, kicked the chair in front of him, and yanked on the tray table.
“Sweetie, please settle down,” Entitled Mom pleaded.
“I’m bored! This is the worst trip ever!”
A little boy covering his eye | Source: Pexels
I watched from the corner of my eye, torn between sympathy for the child and a petty sense of satisfaction at Entitled Mom’s struggle.
Ella tugged on my sleeve, her eyes still watery. “Mommy, can you fix it?”
I hugged her close. “I’m sorry, sweetie. We’ll have to get it looked at when we land. How about we read a book instead?”
A little girl crying in an airplane | Source: Midjourney
As I reached into my bag for another book, chaos erupted across the aisle.
The boy, in a fit of hyperactivity, had knocked over Entitled Mom’s coffee cup. The dark liquid spread across her lap and splashed into her open handbag.
“No, no, no!” she cried, frantically trying to save her belongings.
In her haste to rescue her bag, something fell out and landed on the floor. Yikes! It was a small blue booklet. I took a closer look and gasped. It was her PASSPORT!
Coffee spilling from a cup | Source: Midjourney
Before anyone could react, her son’s foot came down on the fallen document, grinding it into the coffee-soaked carpet.
God, you should’ve seen Entitled Mom’s face. It was EPIC!
She snatched up the passport, but the damage was done. The pages were soaked through, stuck together in a soggy mess. The cover was warped beyond recognition. It looked like a water-logged, soggy piece of toast.
A startled woman | Source: Pexels
“Ma’am?” A flight attendant approached. “Is that your passport?”
Entitled Mom nodded, speechless for once.
“I’m so sorry, but I have to inform you that a damaged passport could cause serious issues when we land. Especially if you’re traveling internationally.”
Entitled Mom’s eyes widened in panic. She turned to her husband, seeking a way out. “What are we going to do? Our connecting flight to Paris leaves in three hours!”
Side view of a flight attendant | Source: Midjourney
Her husband shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. Maybe we can explain at customs?”
As they bickered, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of malevolence.
As the plane began its descent, Entitled Mom was frantically dabbing at her ruined passport with tissues, muttering under her breath. Her son, exhausted from his earlier tantrums, had finally fallen asleep.
An anxious man | Source: Midjourney
I leaned over to Ella, who was reading her storybook with a big smile. “Great job, sweetie! You’re a real bookworm!”
She beamed at me, her earlier distress over the iPad forgotten. “Can we bake cupcakes when we get home, Mommy?”
“Absolutely,” I promised, ruffling her hair. “And maybe we can bake some cookies too!”
A soft whimper from across the aisle drew my attention. Entitled Mom was on the phone, her eyes brimming with panic.
Grayscale of a woman holding a phone | Source: Midjourney
“Yes, I understand it’s last minute, but we need to reschedule our entire trip. No, we can’t make the connecting flight. Because… because my passport is ruined.”
I couldn’t help but overhear as she explained the situation, detailing how she’d have to go through the process of getting an emergency passport before they could continue their journey.
As we began to taxi to our gate, Entitled Mom caught my eye as we stood to disembark.
An anxious woman with her eyes downcast | Source: Midjourney
For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of remorse in her eyes. But then her son started whining again, and the moment passed.
“Ready to go, Ella?” I asked, helping her gather her things.
“Can we get ice cream at the airport, Mommy?”
“I think we deserve a little treat, don’t you think?!” I laughed.
A boy opening his mouth | Source: Pexels
As we made our way off the plane, I couldn’t help but reflect on the bizarre turn of events. What had started as a simple two-hour flight had turned into a lesson in karma, patience, and the unpredictability of travel.
I glanced back one last time to see Entitled Mom still frantically trying to salvage her ruined passport. It was a grim reminder that our actions, good or bad, often have unexpected consequences.
A frustrated woman holding her head | Source: Pexels
Turns out, it wasn’t just Ella’s iPad that got ruined on that flight. Entitled Mom ended up losing something much more valuable!
As we walked hand in hand towards the baggage claim, I squeezed Ella’s fingers, thankful for the perspective this chaotic flight had given me. Sometimes, the best lessons come from the worst experiences.
Have you ever encountered a nightmare neighbor on a flight? Share your own flight horror stories in the comments!
Lady with a little girl leaving an airport | Source: Midjourney
Here’s another story: An entitled rich man mocks a poor boy shining shoes in an underpass. He learns a brutal lesson the very next day.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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