I knew that booking a window seat on a 12-hour daytime train journey would be a luxury. But I figured that since I was going to be on the road for half a day, I wanted at least a little comfort. I paid extra for a specific window seat in a quiet carriage so I could look out at the scenery, lean against the wall, and read or take a nap in peace.
As I entered the carriage and sat down in my seat, I felt a pleasant anticipation – a long journey lay ahead. While I was settling in, an elderly couple approached me. The woman, about seventy years old, leaned towards me with a kind smile:
– Excuse me, could you please move? My husband would really like to sit by the window. We have seats across the aisle, but he likes to look out at nature.
I looked at the man. He didn’t say a word, he just looked at me.
I’m not heartless. I understand how nice it is to sit by the window. But I didn’t just sit there – I paid for this seat. I really didn’t want to move, so I politely said:
– Sorry, but I really prefer to stay in my seat. I reserved it specifically.
The woman lowered her eyes slightly, her smile disappeared.
I felt eyes on me, as if I had done something wrong. People in the carriage began to whisper. After a few seconds, an elderly woman called the conductor.
“She didn’t want to change,” the woman said, nodding in my direction.
The conductor looked at me, then at the couple and said in a sharp tone…. Continued
– Seats by the window are reserved separately. I can’t do anything about it. You didn’t pay for this seat, you should have thought about it earlier, instead of saving and trying to play on pity. A young girl is not obliged to change with you.
The couple said nothing more, and the guide left. I felt a strange mixture of guilt and irritation. I hadn’t done anyone any harm, I had simply not given in to something that was rightfully mine. Why should I feel guilty now?
An hour later, I noticed the man looking at his phone and the woman reading. They no longer looked in my direction.
