Here’s how to not make 200 strangers hate you before takeoff
There’s something about airplanes that turns otherwise functional adults into feral, seat-grabbing, tuna-opening, barefoot goblins. Maybe it’s the recycled air. Maybe it’s the fact that airports are stress factories designed to make you question every life decision. Or maybe it’s just that 200 strangers, each operating from different etiquette playbooks, get crammed into a metal tube and told to relax. Whatever the reason, flying has become like travelling on a Greyhound bus at 35,000 feet.
On top of that, there will always be a man in your row who thinks shoes are optional and a woman who believes the world needs to hear her podcast out loud. But you know, you don’t have to be that person. Air travel has unwritten rules—rules that separate the barely tolerable traveller from the viral TikTok nightmare.
Consider this your grown-up, Esquire-approved survival guide to not being that passenger.
The two-hour rule for domestic flights and three for international isn’t just something airlines cooked up to sell you more airport coffee. It’s the difference between gliding through security with a smirk and sweating through your shirt while sprinting barefoot across Terminal 3. If you think you’re the exception because you “travel light,” you’re not. Nobody looks suave hunched over their belt in a panic at security.
If you need to steady yourself on the way to the loo, use the overhead bins. That innocent tug on the seatback in front of you is basically a whiplash-inducing wake-up call for the poor soul who finally managed to fall asleep.
Yes, flying dehydrates you. But the answer is not three mini-bottles of whiskey before takeoff. Stay hydrated, and if you must drink, do it like an adult who knows his limits. Nobody wants to be seated next to the guy who mistakes turbulence for a conga line.
The plane is not your personal Coachella. Nobody wants to hear your Spotify Top 50, your podcast on crypto, or your toddler’s favourite cartoon theme song. The rule is simple: if it makes noise, it goes in your ears, not ours. If you “forgot” your headphones, congratulations—raw dog it.
Yes, overhead space is communal. And your hat, coat, laptop bag, tripod, and duty-free haul don’t all deserve their own compartments. Put the small stuff under the seat in front of you like the rest of us. And if you’re that guy who holds up the boarding line trying to solve a suitcase–Tetris puzzle, know this: everyone behind you already hates you.
Yes, technically your seat reclines. But etiquette isn’t about what you can do—it’s about what you should do. Reclining during meal service is sociopathic behaviour. Reclining without checking if the person behind you is mid-email is like committing laptop murder. If you’re under 6’2” on a two-hour daytime flight, maybe just… don’t. Sometimes being a decent human means sacrificing one inch of comfort.
Air travel requires buying into a fiction: that we’re not crammed together like sardines, that the guy next to you isn’t elbowing your ribs, that you’re not one armrest away from total despair. That fiction collapses the second you crack open a Tupperware of butter chicken. If it’s pungent, oily, or fish-based—save it for the ground.
Flight attendants are not your servants, therapists, or enemies. They are trained professionals keeping a couple hundred cranky adults alive at altitude. The least you can do is say “please” when asking for water, and not click your fingers like you’re hailing an autorickshaw. Pro tip: kindness is a currency in the skies. Use it.
Yes, long flights make you want to peel your shoes off. But that doesn’t give you permission to pad around the cabin in socks and soak them in whatever lurks on the lavatory floor. If you must free the feet, do so under your seat and—this is crucial—if they smell, keep them sealed. Nobody signed up for Eau de Athlete’s Foot.
By all means, strike up small talk with your seatmate—sometimes those chats lead to lifelong friendships (or at least a decent recommendation for a bar in Bangkok). But if you sense a polite smile, a single-word answer, or noise-cancelling headphones going on mid-sentence, take the hint. Not every flight is an invitation to perform your TED Talk.
The rules are simple: wait your turn, let those with tight connections through, and don’t act like the aisle is a finish line. I don't think the plane is going to leave with you standing in it.
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