Oh no, you didn't!

Okay so we survived the commuter flight to Chicago and tore across O'Hare to reach our transatlantic flight.

We discovered the week before we left that United had changed our flight departure times. So instead of the 2.5 hour layover in Chicago, we only had 45 minutes on paper to race from domestic arrivals to international departures.

If you've ever been to O'Hare, this meant going from F terminal all the way over to C terminal. We could take a shuttle bus but we've tried that in the past and its often faster to walk.

Walking means hauling your carryon baggage. I generally travel with the theory that they are going to a) lose my luggage and/or b) my luggage will arrive late. This theory has always worked well, even in the post 'No more than 3 ounces per containre, crammed into a 1 quart baggie' world we live in.

After being glided thru the spacious business and first class sections, we were crammed into economy. Crammed is a kind word for prepare yourselves to be treated like those crabs they catch on that Discovery show and shove into holding tanks.

But wait, you can upgrade yourself for 100$ US for which you get 5 more inches in Economy Plus!

Now 5 inches or 10 cm for my fellow Canadians, what does that mean to you? For me, its about the span between my pinkie and my thumb when I do the surfer hand jesture. That doesn't seem like a lot of room but it can mean more than you think, at least to some.

To us on this particular flight, it was the difference between having your knees up around your shoulders when you eat or having the capacity to actually get into your seat.

For the two French tourists returning home in the Economy Plus section directly in front of us, it meant not enough room. They had those heavenly five extra inches but that wasn't enough.

No, they had to recline their seats be to the fullest extent so that they might stretched ou like those in the business section. Forget that there actually might be people behind them who might actually like to move.

My husband had to eat his dinner and spend about 7.75 hours with his knees jammed up around his ears. I on the other hand had a 45 minute reprive while I ate my dinner and sipped my cranberry juice.

I had not sooner finished said juice when the seat in front of me reclined with such a snappy action that had I not drank my juice it would have landed on my lap, staining my one of three pairs of mommy jeans I had for my trip.

The flight attendant stood next to me when the seat flew back and her eyes were as wide as mine. Now, why didn't I say anything? Would it have made much difference? I doubt it.

Actions speak louder than words. My husband is as polite as they come. Me, I'm passive aggressive. Being such a person, I banged my knees rather hard on the back of the seats to express my displeasure.

The reaction? Both travellers jumped with shock at the action and moved the seat in front of me by about an inch. Honestly, what do you expect when you inpinge on what little room your fellow travelers have? Just because you can recline your seats, doesn't mean you should.

I had been told the French were snotty but this was not a good start to our French holiday. Thankfully, their fellow country men and women made up for this international incident.