While he was gone, I quietly explained the situation to a flight attendant. She had noticed me pressed against the window earlier and apologized for not stepping in sooner. Then the six-foot-five man across the aisle leaned over. He had heard almost everything. “I’m happy to switch with her if you approve it,” he told the attendant. She checked the seating assignments, nodded, and within sixty seconds I was comfortably settled across the aisle.

When my seatmate returned, he stopped dead. The enormous stranger was now sitting beside the window where I had been, with both armrests properly lowered and his long legs positioned carefully inside his own space. The man stared at me. “What the hell did you do?!” I smiled. “I found someone who apparently doesn’t need all his space either.” Several passengers nearby started laughing.

He squeezed into his seat and immediately discovered something fascinating: despite sitting beside someone taller and broader than himself, nobody invaded his space. The other passenger kept his knees contained and even apologized once when his elbow briefly crossed the armrest. After ten minutes, my former seatmate finally understood exactly how unnecessary his behavior toward me had been.

He barely spoke for the remainder of the flight. When we landed, the flight attendant stopped beside me and quietly said she was sorry I had endured it for hours before asking for help. I thanked both her and the gentleman who switched seats. Then I headed toward arrivals, where my daughter was waiting with my newborn granddaughter. For years, I had made myself smaller whenever someone demanded more room. Somewhere over the Atlantic that day, I finally learned that being five-foot-two didn’t mean I had purchased five-foot-two’s worth of dignity.