I never thought I’d have to defend my right to eat a protein bar on a flight. But on a trip from Chicago to Seattle, I found myself doing just that—arguing with entitled parents who believed their child’s “sensory sensitivities” outweighed my medical needs. I’ve lived with type 1 diabetes since I was twelve. Managing it means acting fast when my blood sugar drops—something that couldn’t wait.
As the plane taxied, I felt my glucose crashing. I quietly reached for my protein bar, only to be asked not to eat because it might bother their son. Against my instincts, I agreed to wait for the snack cart, even as my symptoms worsened—sweaty, shaky, lightheaded. I was putting their comfort ahead of my health, and I knew it.
When the cart finally came, they doubled down—asking the flight attendant to skip our row entirely. That’s when I spoke up, loud enough for nearby passengers to hear: “I have diabetes. I have to eat now, or I could pass out.” The attendant immediately brought me food. The parents objected, but the people around us backed me up without hesitation.
