From bin-hogging to speakerphone calls, these subtle flight habits quietly grate on fellow passengers—plus simple fixes to travel like a pro on any budget.

Quick preface so nobody swings at me in the aisle: this isn’t a dunk on anyone’s bank account.

I grew up lower middle class, and I’ve done a handful of the things on this list myself—usually because I was stressed, nickel-and-dimed by the airline, and trying to survive a long day with a short budget.

These behaviors aren’t “class traits.” They’re coping strategies that show up more when you’re value-hunting every step of the trip. They also happen across all income levels—money doesn’t automatically buy manners.

If any of these feel uncomfortably familiar, same. The point isn’t to shame. It’s to show the little habits that make the cabin experience harder for everyone, and to offer gentler alternatives that still respect your wallet.

1. Treating boarding like a competitive sport

I get it: you paid for basic economy, overhead space is limited, and you’ve watched enough gate agents play Tetris with carry-ons to know it might end badly. But surging the lane before your group is called, hovering at the stanchions, and blocking families or folks who actually are in Group 2 creates a tense, elbows-out vibe before we’ve even taken off.

A better move: Hang back until your group pops on the screen, then walk up with purpose. If overhead space is your anxiety (been there), gate-check the bag for free when they offer. You’ll board lighter, breathe easier, and avoid the scrum.

2. Treating the overhead bin like a storage unit

Two backpacks, a roller, a coat the size of a duvet, and a duty-free bag stuffed with snacks—crammed horizontally across the bin. That “I paid for this space” energy spreads fast, and suddenly three rows are passing your bin looking for somewhere—anywhere—to put a laptop bag.

A better move: One large item up, smaller under the seat. Coats go on top of hard luggage. Slide bags in wheels-first so more people can fit. It’s amazing how far quiet bin etiquette goes when the cabin fills.

3. Picnicking like it’s a park bench

I’m pro-snack. But hot, messy, or super-fragrant meals in a pressurized tube? Rough. Curry, fish, extra-garlicky subs, crunchy foods in crinkly bags for two hours straight—your row is silently suffering. Add a tall drink in a wobbly cup and the turbulence gods will absolutely test you.

A better move: Think low-odor, low-crumb, easy cleanup. Sandwich wrapped in paper, fruit you can bite (not peel), nuts, bars. And a small trash bag so you don’t hand the flight attendant a wet, sticky mystery bundle.

4. Bringing the living room volume to the gate (and the cabin)

Speakerphone FaceTimes, TikTok without earbuds, kids’ cartoons on full blast—airport acoustics turn private sound into public chaos. On board, it’s worse. Even quick video clips at full volume can yank an entire row out of their zone.

A better move: Pack cheap wired earbuds as a backup. If you need to call, keep it short and step away from crowded seats. I learned this the hard way after blasting a voice note at the gate and getting a laser stare from a guy trying to nap. He was right; I was loud.

5. Treating the seatback like a footrest or a punching bag

Knees into the back, constant seat-tapping, or “venting frustration” by thumping the screen like it owes you miles—nothing turns a flight sour faster. People have medical conditions, long legs, or just sensitive backs; you don’t know their story.

A better move: Move slowly, especially with the touchscreen. If you need to stretch, use the aisle when the seatbelt sign is off, or sit cross-ankled to reduce pressure on the seat in front. Your neighbor’s spine will thank you.

6. Power-reclining without a glance

Reclining is allowed. It’s also a social contract. Slamming the seat back during meal service or right after takeoff without a quick look over your shoulder can smash a laptop, a drink, or someone’s knees.

A better move: A two-second check and a gentle recline. If the person behind you is tall or has a baby on their lap, consider a half-recline or a later one. Small kindnesses travel far at 34,000 feet.

7. Turning the aisle into a personal gym

I understand the urge to stretch—I’m tall and my hamstrings are drama queens. But long, stationary stretches blocking the aisle, impromptu yoga by the galley, or hovering over seated passengers while you do calf raises? Tough on everyone, especially the crew navigating beverage carts.

A better move (and a personal fix): I set a timer for light movement every hour: ankle circles, seated figure-four, gentle neck rolls. When I do stand, it’s quick, off to the side, and I watch for carts like they’re city buses.

8. Ignoring basic scent etiquette

Strong cologne, heavy perfume, or clouds of body spray before boarding can trigger headaches or allergies in a tight space. Same with dousing a jacket in smoke and hoping nobody notices. We notice. The cabin magnifies smell like a funhouse.

A better move: Go light or neutral the day you fly. If you smoke, wear a top layer you can stash in the overhead so the scent doesn’t sit in the cabin for hours.

9. Treating flight attendants like hurdles, not humans

Snapping fingers, blocking the galley to argue about a bag, demanding exceptions delivered with a sigh—crew members catch the worst of collective stress. Many of the rules you hate (bag fees, seat assignments, beverage limits) weren’t invented by the person pouring your seltzer.

A better move: Polite, concise, grateful. If something’s wrong, ask for help once and accept the answer. My batting average for upgrades and fixes went up the day I stopped performing my frustration.

10. Turning the row into a group chat

Talking with your travel buddy is normal. Keeping up a running commentary at full volume for three hours, leaning across a stranger to swap phones, or treating your middle-seat neighbor as a captive audience? That’s a lot. Not everyone wants to meet new best friends at altitude.

A better move: Read the room. Short bursts, inside voice, and if your neighbor’s headphones go on, that’s your cue to taper.

11. Pretending the armrest treaty doesn’t exist

There’s an unspoken rule: window gets the wall, aisle gets the lean, middle gets both armrests. The middle seat is a tax on comfort; the armrests are the refund. Hogging both because you boarded earlier or have broader shoulders makes a hard seat harder.

A better move: Offer an inch. If you’re in the middle, claim your space politely. If you’re not, give it generously.

12. Turning budget pain into public performance

The lower middle class often feel the sting of à-la-carte everything—carry-on fees, seat fees, snack fees—more than anyone, because it hits a tighter budget. The temptation to vent at the gate agent, the crew, or the stranger next to you is real. But turning frustration into theater stresses everyone in earshot and rarely changes the policy.

A better move: Pre-decide your non-negotiables (e.g., pay for a seat assignment near the front, bring a personal item only, pack your own food). Control the controllable and let the rest go. Calm travelers have more options; angry ones get fewer.

13. Treating kids like entertainment for the cabin (or like nobody else exists)

Two extremes show up: letting kids run wild in the aisle or expecting the entire plane to empathize with every squeal, or snapping at a toddler for being a toddler and ignoring basic needs. Neither works. People will forgive noise and motion if they see effort and courtesy.

A better move: Snacks, new small toys, pressure-easing sippy cups, and seat-kicking prevention (a rolled blanket behind little heels helps). Apologize once if things go sideways, then focus on your kid. Most of us are rooting for you.

14. Treating cleanliness as optional

Leaving peanut shells, wipes, and cans stuffed into the seatback, or handing flight attendants sticky trash during descent slows everyone’s exit and makes the crew’s job harder.

A better move: Bring a small trash bag for your row. Toss it during service or take it off the plane. Five extra seconds; ten points to Team Humanity.

15. Acting like the rules don’t apply when you’re tired

Headphones during safety demo, standing while the plane’s taxiing, arguing about the seatbelt sign—fatigue plus entitlement equals turbulence. Safety requests aren’t suggestions, and ignoring them delays everyone.

A better move: Treat the last fifteen minutes like part of the flight, not an optional cooldown. Buckle, stow, listen, land.

A quick story I still think about

On a red-eye to JFK, I watched a chain reaction from Row 23. A guy in 22B boarded early, filled the entire bin with a roller and two shopping bags laid sideways, then took a call on speaker while the line stood still. A woman reached Row 22, looked up at the impossible bin, and quietly asked a flight attendant for help.

The guy in 22B rolled his eyes. The attendant smiled, rearranged his bags correctly (wheels in), and suddenly there was space for three more. The woman said “thank you” like she meant it. The guy in 22B put away his phone. And the row exhaled.

It took thirty seconds to turn tension into teamwork. Not because someone got scolded, but because someone modeled decent travel citizenship under pressure. Every flight gives us that choice: be the person who creates friction, or the person who removes it.

The bottom line

Flying on a budget is a contact sport because airlines designed it that way. When you’re juggling fees, tight schedules, and tighter seats, the instinct is to protect yourself first—board earlier, grab space, vent faster, play louder. I get it.

But the hidden upgrade is courtesy.

It costs nothing, travels light, and somehow makes the food taste better and the seat feel bigger.

If you want a smoother flight without paying a dime extra, try this: move slowly, pack thoughtfully, keep your volume soft, and give the people around you the benefit of the doubt. The cabin is a tiny village for a few hours. Be the neighbor you’d want at 30,000 feet.