Zack Robinson got a little more than he bargained for on his flight to Atlanta. Shortly after boarding the plane in New York, the sixty-four-year-old retired police officer became uncomfortably warm. When he tried taking off his jacket, he found he was unable to get his arms out of the sleeves in his cramped middle seat.
Never one to make a scene, Robinson spent the rest of his three-hour trip in mild discomfort. Sweat pooled in his more perspirous areas. He was admirable in his determination not to inconvenience his fellow passengers by pushing his arms against them or asking someone to hold his sleeve. At the same time he began to harbor a growing resentment for the very people he swore to protect.
So self-sacrificing was Robinson, that upon arrival in Atlanta, he waited until he left baggage-claim to finally remove his jacket. Ensuring that his fellow passengers would never learn of the steaming hellscape they had trapped him in.
When asked for comment, the man explained that his flight “didn’t have enough arm room” and expressed that he would think twice about flying United Airlines for his next trip.