
by Dr Rahim Said
Stepping on someone’s toes is never ideal. It’s even worse when it happens in a metal tube hurtling through the sky at 815 km per hour, 39,000 feet above sea level.
But in my defence, the cabin lights were dimmed, and the victim of my accidental assault was barefoot — well, sock-footed.
And let’s be honest. Anyone who chooses to traverse a long-haul flight sans shoes is practically begging for some form of aviation mishap.
What puzzles me, though, is this: how could I have possibly stepped on his toes if his feet were tucked neatly beneath the seat in front of him?
Simple physics suggests that toes kept in their assigned seating area remain untouched. But alas, logic is often left at the boarding gate.
He must have been blissfully stretching out like an entitled prince, oblivious to the fact that his appendages were trespassing into the sacred passageway of economy class.
The result? A startled yelp pierced through the hum of the engines, followed by an outburst of Cockney-accented rage.
Now, I’m no Sherlock Holmes, but from the way he overreacted, I had my doubts about his Britishness. More likely, he was a local chap returning home, sporting an accent he picked up from too many reruns of EastEnders and a life of studying abroad on his parents’ dime.
Alamak! The modern affliction of Overseas Syndrome — where one must prove one’s worldliness by pretending their home country is a mere layover.
Anyway, after his theatrical display of pain and suffering, he fell asleep again, his rebellious foot creeping ever so slightly back into the aisle, almost daring me to rechallenge it.
I took solace in this undeniable evidence: I was not at fault. The foot had ventured into no man’s land of its own volition. Economy class is a battlefield of unspoken negotiations — armrest skirmishes, reclining seat feuds, and yes, footsie incidents that are far from romantic.
Of course, stepping on someone’s toes isn’t just a literal offence; it’s also an idiomatic nightmare.
As Reddit wisdom helpfully explains, it’s what happens when you unwittingly interfere in someone else’s domain.