#freak2fr

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I've been flying for nine years, but nothing compares to the nightmare I call "Duchess Diana"—a woman who brought her own red carpet, demanded we install a throne, and tried to charge other passengers for the privilege of breathing her air.

She boarded our 6-hour flight dragging an actual red carpet runner and wearing a sash that read "World's Most Important Person." Not joking. She had two assistants carrying velvet ropes and a folding chair decorated with fake jewels.

The moment she stepped on, she handed me a laminated list of 47 demands, including having the pilot personally greet her, dimming all cabin lights except a spotlight on her seat, and playing classical music whenever she walked to the bathroom.

But here's where it got insane—she started charging passengers.

"Excuse me," she told the man across the aisle, "looking at me costs $20. Photography is $50. If you want to speak to me, that's $100 per word."

She had a actual cash box and everything.

When I tried to intervene, she pulled out a fake badge claiming she was "International Royalty Inspector" and threatened to have our airline's "royal certification" revoked.

Then she demanded we rearrange the entire seating chart because "commoners shouldn't sit higher than royalty." She wanted everyone in rows 1-10 moved to the back so she could have her "royal court space."

The breaking point came when she stood up mid-flight and announced she was "holding court." She literally started taking appointments from passengers who wanted to "petition the crown."

An elderly man jokingly played along and asked for permission to use the bathroom. She made him kneel in the aisle and charged him $30 for a "royal bathroom decree."

That's when passenger 14C—a quiet businessman—started laughing uncontrollably.

"Diana, what the hell are you doing?"

The entire cabin froze.

"You're my ex-wife! You work at Subway! You don't even have a passport!"

The man stood up, still chuckling. "Folks, meet Diana Patterson from Cleveland. She makes sandwiches for $12 an hour and hasn't paid child support in two years."

Diana's face went white as he continued, "The 'assistants'? Those are her unemployed brothers. The crown? She stole it from a Halloween store. And that cash box? It's empty because she spent her last $200 on this costume."

The entire plane turned to stare as Diana desperately tried to maintain character.

"I don't know this peasant," she declared, but her voice was shaking.

Then her phone rang. The ringtone? "Sweet Caroline" by Neil Diamond.

She answered without thinking: "Hi Mom... No, I'm not bothering people again... Mom, I can't talk, I'm being royal right now..."

Her ex-husband reached into her cash box and pulled out a Subway name tag that read "Diana - Sandwich Artist."

"She's supposed to be at work right now," he announced. "She called in sick to play dress-up on this plane."

The fake jewels started falling off her chair. The sash was clearly made from a bedsheet with marker writing. And when she stood up to storm off, her "royal cape" got caught in the seat and ripped, revealing it was actually a shower curtain.

But the final blow came when a flight attendant found her "royal documents"—a folder full of overdue bills, eviction notices, and a court order for unpaid child support.

Diana spent the rest of the flight crying in the bathroom while her brothers quietly folded up the red carpet.

When we landed, her ex-husband made sure everyone heard him say, "Diana, your manager called. You're fired from Subway too."

She tried to make a dignified exit, but tripped over her own red carpet and face-planted in the jetway.

The crown rolled all the way to baggage claim.