I was boarding a plane in Orlando on Wednesday, preparing to depart for San Francisco.
I had started the week on Sunday, flying from Connecticut to Seattle to work wth Microsoft. On Tuesday, I flew to Orlando to speak at a finance conference. Now I was boarding a plane on that same day to fly to San Francisco for more work.
As a result, my ears were popping a bit. Fluid was caught in my right ear, and from time to time, my ear would pop.
I’m standing in the aisle of the plane. I’m sitting in 23C, but the overhead bin over that seat is closed, indicating it’s full. But I see that the bin over row 21 is open. So I take my roller bag and lift it to place it in the overhead bin.
Then my ear pops. I lose my balance. I manage to hold onto my roller bag, but I sway and turn, and as I do, my backpack, which is on my back, swings and hits the man seated in 21F.
Clocks him in the head. Really clobbers him.
He shouts in pain.
A flight attendant named Sabrina is standing beside me. She sees the whole thing.
I turn and begin apologizing profusely,
The man looks at me and says, “No.” He’s firm, rude, and angry.
“No, I’m really sorry,” I say. “I lost my balance. My ear popped. I lost my equilibrium.”
“No,” he says again, and wags his finger at me.
So now I’m annoyed. I didn’t mean to hit him, and I wasn’t being careless. It was an accident. I understand that getting clobbered by a backpack isn’t fun, but there’s no reason to be rude. So I lean in a little and say, “It must be hard to be so infallible in a world of imperfection, but some of us are just human. We make mistakes. I’m very sorry.”
I’m admittedly aggressive and ominous. I’m looming over him.
“Fine,” he says, still scowling at me.
“Thank you,” I say and move to my seat.
A couple of minutes later, Sabinra brings the man an ice pack. He places it over his left eye. He’s two rows ahead of my and in the opposite side of the plane, so I can see him clearly.
I guess he’s really hurt.
I take a photo of him and his ice pack and send it to Elysha.
A couple of minutes later, Sabrina checks on me. “Are you okay?”
I tell her I’m fine. “Keep an eye on that guy,” I say, pointing. “He’s the one who got hurt.”
Halfway through the flight, I’m watching a movie and typing on my laptop when the man leaves his seat and approaches me. Now it’s his turn to lean in and loom. “Are you the man who hit me?”
“Yes,” I say. “Again, I’m so sorry. It was an accident.”
“I’m just so goddamn angry,” he says. “You really screwed up my eye. I want you to know that United Airlines said I should press charges against you, but I’m not going to.”
At this moment, two thoughts enter my mind:
- I don’t think United Airlines told him to press charges. Maybe they said to file a claim of some kind in case the injury is worse than it appears, but press charges? No. He’s lying.
- Why tell them about the possibility of pressing charges if you’re not going to actually do it? He’s only here to scare me. He’s attempting to enact some petty revenge.
So I go into action. I say:
“You should definitely press charges. I think that would be a great idea.”
“No,” he says, “I don’t want to.”
“No,” I say, “You should. I want you to. I want four cops at the gate ready to take me down when we arrive. Handcuffs and everything. You should do it. You took the time to come over here and talk to me, so definitely press charges. I think that would be amazing.”
“I’m not going to,” he says, looking confused.
“Do it,” I say. “Please. You press those charges.”
He scowls and returns to his seat.
A moment later, Sabrina appears. She says she’d like my email address in the event they need to contact me. She asks again if I’m okay.
“I’m great,” I say. “Worry about him.”
The remainder of the flight is uneventful. After landing, we stand and wait to deplane. I try to get the man’s attention. I want to apologize again because I really do feel bad about hitting him
I also want to encourage him one more time to involve the police before it’s too late.
He won’t look in my direction.
As he leaves, Sabrina, who is standing beside me, says, “Listen, you don’t know the worst part. He has a glass eye. You hit his only good eye. Can you believe it?”
“My name is Matthew Dicks,” I say. “I can definitely believe it. This kind of thing happens to me all the damn time.”
As I am approaching the plane’s exit, I hear the pilot, first officer, and another flight attendant, who are standing in the forward galley, talking about me. I hear one of them say, “So he was in 23C? Two rows behind…”
Then I’m gone. Up the jetway, hoping for police at the gate.
None were there, of course. It was sadly peaceful and empty.
But as I walk away, a United Airlines representative calls out. “Mr. Hanson! Mr. Hanson!”
“I’m not Mr. Hanson,” I say.
“Did you get hit by luggage on the plane?” he asks.
“No,” I say. “I was the guy who did the hitting. I think Mr. Hanson is somewhere ahead of me.”
“Oh,” he says, and laughs. “Have a good night.”
Four days later, and no email from Sabrina or United Airlines yet.
I didn’t think there would be.
I’ve dealt with bullies like Mr. Hanson before:
Former teachers and professors.
Former bosses and coworkers.
Kids on the playground and guys on the basketball court.
A man in line at Disney World.
A woman in line at Trader Joe’s during the pandemic.
Many more.
There are people who use the threat of legal action, violence, or some other form of retribution without any intention of following through.
All talk. No bite.
But these bullies can really frighten people. Ruin their day. Place fear in their hearts for a long time.
I know many people who would’ve been justifiably worried about Mr. Hanson pressing charges against them. They would’ve heard his veiled threat and been anxious for the rest of the flight. Maybe still anxious right now, waiting for the phone to ring or the police to show up on their doorstep.
I hate these bullies with their lies, bluster, and meaningless threats, which is why I did what I did,
I felt very bad about hitting Mr. Hanson, but then I felt less bad when he acted like a bully, which is why I bullied him in return.
The worst thing a bully can ever face is another bully.
