Less than 10 years ago, I was a "first-time" air traveler. For my first flight, I flew home from Washington, D.C., after moving daughter Jessica to a university in Virginia.

Though I am not a seasoned veteran of the skies, O'Hare and Midway in Chicago, Reagan and Dulles in Washington, D.C., Kansas City International, plus a dozen others hold no mysteries for me anymore.

These days, the airplane is the branch office for business travelers. On any given flight, a dozen or more laptops boot up after the "go-ahead" sign comes from the flight crew. For me, this is the time to relax, read and view the passing scenery below.

On occasion, a fellow passenger will offer engaging conversation. Last year, a woman talked about her family's close brush with the BTK serial killer.

On a recent return flight from the cold North Country, I had a delightful conversation with an artist. She and an illustrator created a children's book that is sold in book stores. I even had the pleasure of reading it.

Earlier that week during the flight out, a man from the National Guard was my conversational companion. Imagine two men, both well muscled-which is another way of saying we were super-sized -literally sharing the armrest situated between us. We tolerated the hour and half moment of "togetherness" as best we could.

The potential for unpleasant experiences do exist while traveling. One particular day stands out. This was before Sept. 11, 2001, when increased security measures enforced stringent luggage rules.

After an unusually long layover in Chicago, I was the last passenger to board my plane. An enormous, floral print travel bag filled the entire overhead compartment.

Flight attendants were too busy finding storage space for other travelers-also due to other oversized, floral print luggage.

While waiting, I observed a passenger and her companion seated four rows back. I recalled their arrival in the waiting room, moments earlier. They used an electric vehicle and a porter to move six pieces-yes, I counted them, six pieces-of oversized, floral print luggage.

In terms the reader can understand, "oversized" luggage requires excessive force to insert said bulging luggage into the overhead compartment. In addition, the force required to extract the same luggage is even greater.

Anyway, during boarding, this couple was first in line, even though their seats were near the front. They were frequent flyers taking advantage of the system.

I witnessed similar incidents on earlier flights. My patience wore thin. As I pulled out the intruding luggage, I politely announced, "Excuse me, everyone. Whose luggage is this in my overhead bin?" The owner raised her hand. I requested she store it above her own seat.

To my surprise, the woman took the luggage back to her seat. Finding no room on the crowded plane-her overhead bin and four other compartments already created a storage crisis for other people as well-she managed to get the attention of the attendants while they were in the beginning stages of flight safety instruction.

After a hasty, futile search for space, an attendant reopened the cabin doors and ground crew placed the luggage in the plane's hold.

Other passengers watched this scenario unfold. They quietly applauded my effort for standing my ground.

Upon our arrival, as I stood up to leave, I felt a tap on my shoulder. "Excuse me, sir." As I looked over my shoulder, the owner of the floral print ensemble angrily continued, "You were very rude to me back there. You need to apologize to me!"

Without hesitation, as I turned around, I replied, "Lady, I'm sorry you feel that way. I was as polite as I could be. You knew the restrictions for carry-on luggage. Every passenger on this flight paid for one seat and the use of overhead space for luggage. Your luggage was in my space. I merely asked that you store your luggage in your space."

As I turned around to leave, I could hear quiet applause once again. Other passengers understood why I chose to make a stand. They had been there, too.

This was the "Showdown at OK Corral," or better yet, "High Noon at O'Hare." With luggage at the ready, with hands quivering and sweat streaming down my face, I faced the desperado, eye to eye-and she blinked.

No. Not really. I am over 6 feet tall. She was 5-foot-something. It was more like facing each other "puffy hair to middle of the chest." In addition, this woman was not a desperado at all. She was somebody's petite grandmother with matching floral print luggage.

However, it was high time to use a "tough love" approach on people who took advantage of other people's goodwill.

Perhaps I do need to work on being more patient. Perhaps there are people who need a little work on their behavior and attitude as well. In that frame of mind, I hope my confrontation with the person's self-centered behavior might have been the motive for her to change for the better