I was on a flight from Chicago to Seattle, completely exhausted and needing to eat soon — I have Type 1 diabetes, and managing my blood sugar isn’t optional. Just as I opened a protein bar, the woman next to me hissed, “Could you not? Our son is sensitive.”

Their kid, around nine, wasn’t disabled — just bratty and sulking with his arms crossed. I sighed and decided to wait for the food cart, thinking I’d avoid the drama.

When the flight attendant finally came around, I politely asked for a Coke and a snack box. But the dad interrupted: “No food or drinks for this row.”

I hit the call button.

He glared at me and snapped, “Our son throws tantrums if people eat near him. Be considerate.”

Then the mom leaned across me and told the flight attendant, “She won’t be having anything, thank you.”

That’s when I’d had enough.

I looked the flight attendant straight in the eye and said — loud enough for half the plane to hear — “Actually, I will be eating. I’m diabetic and won’t risk my health because some strangers don’t want to parent their kid.”

The attendant nodded and handed me my snack.

The couple didn’t say a word the rest of the flight.

Sometimes, standing your ground is the only choice.