Rude parents demanded that I not eat on the plane — “because their child might throw a tantrum.” But I calmly put them in their place.
My name is Elżbieta and I’m happy with my life. I work as a marketing consultant and I often travel across the country, helping companies rethink their strategies. Last year, I visited 14 cities. Flights, hotels, and suitcases have become part of my lifestyle.
But there’s one thing that always requires my attention — I have type 1 diabetes. I’ve been living with this diagnosis since I was twelve and I have to constantly monitor my blood sugar levels, carry insulin and snacks with me.
My illness doesn’t define me, but it does require discipline from me and understanding from others. Usually, that’s not a problem — friends, colleagues, and even flight attendants are very understanding.
But not this time.
During the flight from Chicago to Seattle, I felt the familiar dizziness and trembling hands — my blood sugar had dropped sharply. I sat in my seat by the aisle next to a family — a couple and their roughly nine-year-old son. The boy was completely absorbed in playing on his tablet and seemed more spoiled than sensitive.
When I pulled a protein bar out of my bag to stabilize my condition, the boy’s mother asked me… not to eat.
— “Our son is very sensitive,” she said, pointing at the food. “He might start screaming. It’s better not to provoke him.”
I politely tried to explain, but she interrupted me:
— “It’s just a three-hour flight. You can manage without eating.”
I put the bar away, deciding to wait for the drink cart. But after 40 minutes, when I finally asked the flight attendant for a Coke and a snack, the boy’s father spoke up:
— No eating or drinking in this row. Our son can’t stand when someone eats near him.
Meanwhile, the boy calmly continued playing, not noticing anyone. And I was already feeling really unwell.
When the flight attendant returned with the cart, the mother again tried to refuse on my behalf:
— “Better not bring her anything to eat. Our son has sensory issues, he might start crying.”
At that moment, I said calmly but firmly:
— “I have type 1 diabetes. If I don’t eat now, my condition could deteriorate rapidly. I need to eat — immediately.”
Silence fell around us. The flight attendant immediately handed me what I had asked for. A few passengers exchanged glances. Someone nodded in understanding.
— “Everyone has their own difficulties,” the woman said. “You should show some empathy.
— Your child is sitting with a tablet, eating candy, and not noticing anyone — I replied. — Empathy means respecting others’ health, not ignoring it.
After that, they didn’t interfere anymore. I calmly ate, my blood sugar stabilized, and the rest of the flight went smoothly.
Later, the mother tried once again to explain the “specific needs” of her child, but I politely and respectfully replied:
— You have the right to care for your child. I have the right to care for my health. If you believe your son cannot tolerate the presence of other people — it might be better to book an entire row or choose a private flight.
This situation reminded me of something important: taking care of your own health is not impolite — it’s a necessity. Just because an illness isn’t visible doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. And no one has the right to expect us to risk our health for someone else’s comfort.
Let everyone remember this: someone’s health is always more important than someone else’s momentary comfort.
