Then toward my window seat, which she’d tried to buy for $20.
I could almost see our earlier conversation replaying in her head.
Her mother looked at my laptop.
I didn’t remind her of her behavior; I didn’t have to.
Finally, Brenda said, “Well… that’s nice.”
“It is,” I said.
Kayla’s mother quietly returned to her seat.
Before focusing on her phone again, the teenager whispered, “I’m never letting her forget this.”
“Be merciful.”
“I can’t promise that.”
I didn’t remind her of her behavior.
***
About an hour before landing, Kayla turned back to me and leaned closer over Garry.
She held up her phone.
“Look.”
She’d made a rough edit of her travel video.
There was no dramatic window time-lapse.
Kayla turned back to me.
Instead, it began with the departure board, then showed her suitcase rolling through the terminal, the plane at the gate, her meal, the flight map, and a short window clip she’d taken near the rear galley after asking a flight attendant for permission.
It was simple.
And it worked.
At the end, she’d added text over a shot of the cabin.
“Travel tip: Check your seat number before starting international negotiations.”
It was simple.
I stared at her.
She stared back.
Then we both started laughing!
Poor Garry jerked awake.
“You didn’t!?”
“I did!”
“Does your mom know?” I whispered.
“Not yet.”
“Kayla.”
“Does your mom know?”
“I didn’t show anyone’s face. It’s just a joke,” she whispered back.
I watched it again.
“Okay. That’s pretty funny.”
She smiled.
Then she asked whether I thought she should study marketing.
I watched it again.
“If you enjoy understanding why people watch, click, buy, or scroll past something, it’s worth exploring. But don’t choose a career because some random woman on a plane told you to.”
“You’re not random anymore.”
“No?”
“You’re the woman my mom tried to remove from her seat but failed dismally.”
“You’re not random anymore.”
Brenda leaned forward and coughed from her seat because her daughter had forgotten to whisper and she’d overheard!
Kayla and I laughed!
***
When we landed, everyone stood and started collecting their bags.
Brenda avoided looking at me until we were almost off the plane.
Then she stopped beside my row.
Brenda avoided looking at me.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” she finally said.
That surprised me.
She glanced at my laptop bag.
“I shouldn’t have touched your computer. And I should’ve checked the boarding passes.”
“Thank you.”
Kayla stood next to her.
“And?”
Brenda sighed.
That surprised me.
“And you paid for that seat.”
Kayla nodded.
“Growth.”
“Don’t push it,” her mother replied.
I smiled.
***
As we walked toward immigration, Kayla caught up with me one last time.
“Hey.”
She held out her phone.
Her Notes app was open.
“Don’t push it.”
At the top, she’d written: “Things I learned on the flight.”
Underneath were notes about lighting, editing, marketing, and storytelling.
At the bottom, she’d added one more.
“Check the row number before your mother begins a diplomatic crisis.”
I laughed.
At the bottom, she’d added one more.
“That’s probably the most useful one.”
Kayla smiled.
“Thanks for not being mean to me because she was.”
That caught me off guard.
“You didn’t do anything to me.”
She glanced toward Brenda, who was waiting ahead.
“Still.”
“Thanks for not being mean to me.”
I thought about the whole ridiculous flight.
I could’ve stayed angry for hours.
Instead, I’d kept my seat, finished my report, and helped a teenager discover that the part of social media she really loved wasn’t getting attention.
It was creating something.
I could’ve stayed angry for hours.
“I hope the videos go well,” I told her.
“I’ll remember the lighting thing.”
“And the seat-number thing.”
“Mostly the seat-number thing.”
She hurried back toward her mother.
I headed toward baggage claim.
“I hope the videos go well.”
I’d boarded wanting 10 quiet hours beside a window.
I didn’t exactly get the quiet part.
But I kept my seat.
Kayla got a better video and maybe even an idea for her future.
And Brenda learned a free lesson that would’ve been avoided with only 10 seconds of reading.
Although judging by her face when we said goodbye, I suspect she’d rather have paid me the $20.
