Flight Attendant INSULTS Big Shaq Over His Necklace in First Class – Instantly Regrets It!

Shaquille O’Neal, the NBA legend, strides into the first-class cabin of a commercial flight, no introduction needed. He quickly becomes the center of attention, standing at 2.16 meters tall, his muscular frame like a living tower. Passengers around him instinctively look up, some whispering, others quickly snapping photos of the basketball icon they’d only seen on TV.

As he walks to his seat, the spacious first-class chair looks small in comparison to his imposing frame. With a familiar move, Shaq gently lowers himself and adjusts to find the most comfortable position. Around his neck glimmers a massive gold chain with an intricately designed cross pendant, a symbol not only of faith but of the man himself. It’s something he’s always worn, from his days dominating the court to his successful post-NBA life.

 

 

The flight is going smoothly until a flight attendant rushes toward him, her smile not entirely natural, as if something is making her uncomfortable. However, her gaze isn’t on him; it’s on the chain around his neck. Shaq tilts his head slightly, his deep brown eyes flickering with a mix of suspicion and intrigue.

At first, he thought the flight attendant was simply coming over to say hello or offer drinks, like most first-class attendants do. But no, she wasn’t looking him in the eye, nor was she eyeing the drink tray in her hands. Her gaze was fixed on the gold chain, as if it were something forbidden, something that shouldn’t be there.

Shaq waits, but she doesn’t speak right away. She seems to be struggling internally, as if carefully choosing her words before saying something that could provoke a reaction. After a few seconds of silence, she takes a deep breath, offers a weak smile that can’t quite hide her awkwardness, and says, “Mr. O’Neal, we would like to maintain a friendly atmosphere and ensure all passengers feel welcome.”

 

 

Her voice sounds gentle, but Shaq immediately senses the subtle insincerity in every syllable. He’s faced countless in-depth interviews, psychological games on the court, and knows when someone is trying to disguise a troublesome request. He raises an eyebrow, leaning slightly forward, his gaze sharpening.

The flight attendant swallows hard, her hands tightening around the notebook in her hand, as if searching for something to hold on to. Finally, she says, “Some passengers might feel uncomfortable with that piece of jewelry.” Shaq narrows his eyes, his lips curling into a half-smile, not because he finds it amusing, but because he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“That piece of jewelry,” he repeats, his voice deep, like distant thunder. The flight attendant keeps the smile, but her eyes reveal her growing tension. “Yes, we’re just trying to create a comfortable environment for all the passengers on this flight.”

Shaq chuckles softly, but not because he finds it funny. It’s because of the absurdity of it. A guy over 2 meters tall, who’s faced the toughest players in the NBA, won countless titles, and now he’s being called out for a necklace. But when he looks into the flight attendant’s eyes, he realizes she’s not joking.

The surrounding space seems to freeze for a moment. Shaq doesn’t rush to answer right away. He just stares at the flight attendant, his gaze calm but sharp, like a predator that had just discovered its opponent’s weak spot. “You’re telling me that a necklace could make someone uncomfortable?” Shaq’s voice is deep and slow, but each syllable carries a weight that presses down on the atmosphere.

 

 

The flight attendant seems to have anticipated this reaction, but still appears flustered. She takes a breath, trying to keep her voice calm, but unable to mask her tension. “We just want to make sure all passengers feel comfortable, sir.” Shaq slightly tilts his head, his sharp gaze seemingly inspecting every expression on her face.

His composure is not a sign of acceptance, but rather a silent challenge. He leans back, but his voice remains firm and unwavering. “If this is the airline’s rule, I want to see it in writing.” The surrounding space seems to freeze for a moment. Passengers begin exchanging puzzled glances, some subtly leaning forward, clearly waiting to see if the flight attendant could come up with a reasonable explanation.

 

 

 

But the problem is, she can’t. The flight attendant hesitates, her hand instinctively gripping the notebook she was holding, as if trying to find any explanation that might justify the situation. But she knows well that there is no rule prohibiting passengers from wearing jewelry with religious symbols, and there is certainly no clause in the airline’s policy stating that a necklace could make another passenger feel uncomfortable.

The tense moments drag on, revealing her growing anxiety. Her eyes begin to waver, her body leaning slightly back, as if subconsciously trying to retreat from the conversation. But Shaq remains seated, his gaze unwavering, never leaving her. He doesn’t need to say anything more because at that moment, the flight attendant realizes she has just backed herself into an inescapable situation.

 

 

The entire first-class cabin is waiting for an answer, and she has none. The atmosphere in the first-class cabin grows tense, as if someone had just lowered the temperature by a few degrees. No one speaks, but all the passengers’ gazes are fixed on Shaq and the flight attendant, who stands frozen, her face stiff, as if trapped in a situation she can’t escape.

A nearby passenger speaks up, breaking the tense silence. “Would you say this to someone wearing a headscarf or another religious necklace?” The question is like a punch to the logic behind the earlier request. The flight attendant freezes, her eyes clearly wavering, as if she’d been pushed to the edge and didn’t know how to back away.

It’s no longer just a simple conversation; this has become a much larger issue, and she’s starting to realize that. The atmosphere in the first-class cabin grows even more tense, as if the cabin pressure had dropped slightly, not enough to feel suffocating, but it’s no longer as relaxed as before. Soft whispers turn into hushed murmurs, and the passengers’ eyes are no longer focused on their phone screens or magazines; instead, they’re directed at the towering man and the flight attendant standing before him.

Shaq maintains his usual calm demeanor, but anyone observant would have noticed that the muscles in his shoulders had tensed. He doesn’t need to appear angry; his mere presence, his silence, is enough to make everyone understand he’s not pleased. His deep, steady voice breaks the increasingly thick tension in the air. “I’ve flown hundreds of flights, but I’ve never heard anything as ridiculous as this.”

The flight attendant seems to have anticipated this reaction, but still appears flustered. She takes a breath, trying to keep her voice calm, but unable to mask her tension. “We just want to make sure all passengers feel comfortable, sir.” Shaq slightly tilts his head, his sharp gaze seemingly inspecting every expression on her face.

His composure is not a sign of acceptance, but rather a silent challenge. He leans back, but his voice remains firm and unwavering. “If this is the airline’s rule, I want to see it in writing.” The surrounding space seems to freeze for a moment. Passengers begin exchanging puzzled glances, some subtly leaning forward, clearly waiting to see if the flight attendant could come up with a reasonable explanation.

 

But the problem is, she can’t. The flight attendant hesitates, her hand instinctively gripping the notebook she was holding, as if trying to find any explanation that might justify the situation. But she knows well that there is no rule prohibiting passengers from wearing jewelry with religious symbols, and there is certainly no clause in the airline’s policy stating that a necklace could make another passenger feel uncomfortable.

The tense moments drag on, revealing her growing anxiety. Her eyes begin to waver, her body leaning slightly back, as if subconsciously trying to retreat from the conversation. But Shaq remains seated, his gaze unwavering, never leaving her. He doesn’t need to say anything more because at that moment, the flight attendant realizes she has just backed herself into an inescapable situation.

The entire first-class cabin is waiting for an answer, and she has none. The atmosphere in the first-class cabin grows tense, as if someone had just lowered the temperature by a few degrees. No one speaks, but all the passengers’ gazes are fixed on Shaq and the flight attendant, who stands frozen, her face stiff, as if trapped in a situation she can’t escape.

A nearby passenger speaks up, breaking the tense silence. “Would you say this to someone wearing a headscarf or another religious necklace?” The question is like a punch to the logic behind the earlier request. The flight attendant freezes, her eyes clearly wavering, as if she’d been pushed to the edge and didn’t know how to back away.

 

It’s no longer just a simple conversation; this has become a much larger issue, and she’s starting to realize that. The atmosphere in the first-class cabin grows even more tense, as if the cabin pressure had dropped slightly, not enough to feel suffocating, but it’s no longer as relaxed as before. Soft whispers turn into hushed murmurs, and the passengers’ eyes are no longer focused on their phone screens or magazines; instead, they’re directed at the towering man and the flight attendant standing before him.

Shaq maintains his usual calm demeanor, but anyone observant would have noticed that the muscles in his shoulders had tensed. He doesn’t need to appear angry; his mere presence, his silence, is enough to make everyone understand he’s not pleased. His deep, steady voice breaks the increasingly thick tension in the air. “I’ve flown hundreds of flights, but I’ve never heard anything as ridiculous as this.”

The flight attendant seems to have anticipated this reaction, but still appears flustered. She takes a breath, trying to keep her voice calm, but unable to mask her tension. “We just want to make sure all passengers feel comfortable, sir.” Shaq slightly tilts his head, his sharp gaze seemingly inspecting every expression on her face.

 

His composure is not a sign of acceptance, but rather a silent challenge. He leans back, but his voice remains firm and unwavering. “If this is the airline’s rule, I want to see it in writing.” The surrounding space seems to freeze for a moment. Passengers begin exchanging puzzled glances, some subtly leaning forward, clearly waiting to see if the flight attendant could come up with a reasonable explanation.

But the problem is, she can’t. The flight attendant hesitates, her hand instinctively gripping the notebook she was holding, as if trying to find any explanation that might justify the situation. But she knows well that there is no rule prohibiting passengers from wearing jewelry with religious symbols, and there is certainly no clause in the airline’s policy stating that a necklace could make another passenger feel uncomfortable.

The tense moments drag on, revealing her growing anxiety. Her eyes begin to waver, her body leaning slightly back, as if subconsciously trying to retreat from the conversation. But Shaq remains seated, his gaze unwavering, never leaving her. He doesn’t need to say anything more because at that moment, the flight attendant realizes she has just backed herself into an inescapable situation.

 

The entire first-class cabin is waiting for an answer, and she has none. The atmosphere in the first-class cabin grows tense, as if someone had just lowered the temperature by a few degrees. No one speaks, but all the passengers’ gazes are fixed on Shaq and the flight attendant, who stands frozen, her face stiff, as if trapped in a situation she can’t escape.

A nearby passenger speaks up, breaking the tense silence. “Would you say this to someone wearing a headscarf or another religious necklace?” The question is like a punch to the logic behind the earlier request. The flight attendant freezes, her eyes clearly wavering, as if she’d been pushed to the edge and didn’t know how to back away.

It’s no longer just a simple conversation; this has become a much larger issue, and she’s starting to realize that. The atmosphere in the first-class cabin grows even more tense, as if the cabin pressure had dropped slightly, not enough to feel suffocating, but it’s no longer as relaxed as before. Soft whispers turn into hushed murmurs, and the passengers’ eyes are no longer focused on their phone screens or magazines; instead, they’re directed at the towering man and the flight attendant standing before him.

 

 

Shaq maintains his usual calm demeanor, but anyone observant would have noticed that the muscles in his shoulders had tensed. He doesn’t need to appear angry; his mere presence, his silence, is enough to make everyone understand he’s not pleased. His deep, steady voice breaks the increasingly thick tension in the air. “I’ve flown hundreds of flights, but I’ve never heard anything as ridiculous as this.”

The flight attendant seems to have anticipated this reaction, but still appears flustered. She takes a breath, trying to keep her voice calm, but unable to mask her tension. “We just want to make sure all passengers feel comfortable, sir.” Shaq slightly tilts his head, his sharp gaze seemingly inspecting every expression on her face.

His composure is not a sign of acceptance, but rather a silent challenge. He leans back, but his voice remains firm and unwavering. “If this is the airline’s rule, I want to see it in writing.” The surrounding space seems to freeze for a moment. Passengers begin exchanging puzzled glances, some subtly leaning forward, clearly waiting to see if the flight attendant could come up with a reasonable explanation.

But the problem is, she can’t. The flight attendant hesitates, her hand instinctively gripping the notebook she was holding, as if trying to find any explanation that might justify the situation. But she knows well that there is no rule prohibiting passengers from wearing jewelry with religious symbols, and there is certainly no clause in the airline’s policy stating that a necklace could make another passenger feel uncomfortable.

 

 

The tense moments drag on, revealing her growing anxiety. Her eyes begin to waver, her body leaning slightly back, as if subconsciously trying to retreat from the conversation. But Shaq remains seated, his gaze unwavering, never leaving her. He doesn’t need to say anything more because at that moment, the flight attendant realizes she has just backed herself into an inescapable situation.

The entire first-class cabin is waiting for an answer, and she has none. The atmosphere in the first-class cabin grows tense, as if someone had just lowered the temperature by a few degrees. No one speaks, but all the passengers’ gazes are fixed on Shaq and the flight attendant, who stands frozen, her face stiff, as if trapped in a situation she can’t escape.

A nearby passenger speaks up, breaking the tense silence. “Would you say this to someone wearing a headscarf or another religious necklace?” The question is like a punch to the logic behind the earlier request. The flight attendant freezes, her eyes clearly wavering, as if she’d been pushed to the edge and didn’t know how to back away.

It’s no longer just a simple conversation; this has become a much larger issue, and she’s starting to realize that. The atmosphere in the first-class cabin grows even more tense, as if the cabin pressure had dropped slightly, not enough to feel suffocating, but it’s no longer as relaxed as before. Soft whispers turn into hushed murmurs, and the passengers’ eyes are no longer focused on their phone screens or magazines; instead, they’re directed at the towering man and the flight attendant standing before him.

 

 

Shaq maintains his usual calm demeanor, but anyone observant would have noticed that the muscles in his shoulders had tensed. He doesn’t need to appear angry; his mere presence, his silence, is enough to make everyone understand he’s not pleased. His deep, steady voice breaks the increasingly thick tension in the air. “I’ve flown hundreds of flights, but I’ve never heard anything as ridiculous as this.”

The flight attendant seems to have anticipated this reaction, but still appears flustered. She takes a breath, trying to keep her voice calm, but unable to mask her tension. “We just want to make sure all passengers feel comfortable, sir.” Shaq slightly tilts his head, his sharp gaze seemingly inspecting every expression on her face.

His composure is not a sign of acceptance, but rather a silent challenge. He leans back, but his voice remains firm and unwavering. “If this is the airline’s rule, I want to see it in writing.” The surrounding space seems to freeze for a moment. Passengers begin exchanging puzzled glances, some subtly leaning forward, clearly waiting to see if the flight attendant could come up with a reasonable explanation.

But the problem is, she can’t. The flight attendant hesitates, her hand instinctively gripping the notebook she was holding, as if trying to find any explanation that might justify the situation. But she knows well that there is no rule prohibiting passengers from wearing jewelry with religious symbols, and there is certainly no clause in the airline’s policy stating that a necklace could make another passenger feel uncomfortable.

 

 

The tense moments drag on, revealing her growing anxiety. Her eyes begin to waver, her body leaning slightly back, as if subconsciously trying to retreat from the conversation. But Shaq remains seated, his gaze unwavering, never leaving her. He doesn’t need to say anything more because at that moment, the flight attendant realizes she has just backed herself into an inescapable situation.

The entire first-class cabin is waiting for an answer, and she has none. The atmosphere in the first-class cabin grows tense, as if someone had just lowered the temperature by a few degrees. No one speaks, but all the passengers’ gazes are fixed on Shaq and the flight attendant, who stands frozen, her face stiff, as if trapped in a situation she can’t escape.

A nearby passenger speaks up, breaking the tense silence. “Would you say this to someone wearing a headscarf or another religious necklace?” The question is like a punch to the logic behind the earlier request. The flight attendant freezes, her eyes clearly wavering, as if she’d been pushed to the edge and didn’t know how to back away.

It’s no longer just a simple conversation; this has become a much larger issue, and she’s starting to realize that. The atmosphere in the first-class cabin grows even more tense, as if the cabin pressure had dropped slightly, not enough to feel suffocating, but it’s no longer as relaxed as before. Soft whispers turn into hushed murmurs, and the passengers’ eyes are no longer focused on their phone screens or magazines; instead, they’re directed at the towering man and the flight attendant standing before him.

 

 

Shaq maintains his usual calm demeanor, but anyone observant would have noticed that the muscles in his shoulders had tensed. He doesn’t need to appear angry; his mere presence, his silence, is enough to make everyone understand he’s not pleased. His deep, steady voice breaks the increasingly thick tension in the air. “I’ve flown hundreds of flights, but I’ve never heard anything as ridiculous as this.”

The flight attendant seems to have anticipated this reaction, but still appears flustered. She takes a breath, trying to keep her voice calm, but unable to mask her tension. “We just want to make sure all passengers feel comfortable, sir.” Shaq slightly tilts his head, his sharp gaze seemingly inspecting every expression on her face.

His composure is not a sign of acceptance, but rather a silent challenge. He leans back, but his voice remains firm and unwavering. “If this is the airline’s rule, I want to see it in writing.” The surrounding space seems to freeze for a moment. Passengers begin exchanging puzzled glances, some subtly leaning forward, clearly waiting to see if the flight attendant could come up with a reasonable explanation.

But the problem is, she can’t. The flight attendant hesitates, her hand instinctively gripping the notebook she was holding, as if trying to find any explanation that might justify the situation. But she knows well that there is no rule prohibiting passengers from wearing jewelry with religious symbols, and there is certainly no clause in the airline’s policy stating that a necklace could make another passenger feel uncomfortable.

 

 

The tense moments drag on, revealing her growing anxiety. Her eyes begin to waver, her body leaning slightly back, as if subconsciously trying to retreat from the conversation. But Shaq remains seated, his gaze unwavering, never leaving her. He doesn’t need to say anything more because at that moment, the flight attendant realizes she has just backed herself into an inescapable situation.

The entire first-class cabin is waiting for an answer, and she has none. The atmosphere in the first-class cabin grows tense, as if someone had just lowered the temperature by a few degrees. No one speaks, but all the passengers’ gazes are fixed on Shaq and the flight attendant, who stands frozen, her face stiff, as if trapped in a situation she can’t escape.

A nearby passenger speaks up, breaking the tense silence. “Would you say this to someone wearing a headscarf or another religious necklace?” The question is like a punch to the logic behind the earlier request. The flight attendant freezes, her eyes clearly wavering, as if she’d been pushed to the edge and didn’t know how to back away.

It’s no longer just a simple conversation; this has become a much larger issue, and she’s starting to realize that. The atmosphere in the first-class cabin grows even more tense, as if the cabin pressure had dropped slightly, not enough to feel suffocating, but it’s no longer as relaxed as before. Soft whispers turn into hushed murmurs, and the passengers’ eyes are no longer focused on their phone screens or magazines; instead, they’re directed at the towering man and the flight attendant standing before him.

Shaq maintains his usual calm demeanor, but anyone observant would have noticed that the muscles in his shoulders had tensed. He doesn’t need to appear angry; his mere presence, his silence, is enough to make everyone understand he’s not pleased. His deep, steady voice breaks the increasingly thick tension in the air. “I’ve flown hundreds of flights, but I’ve never heard anything as ridiculous as this.”

 

 

The flight attendant seems to have anticipated this reaction, but still appears flustered. She takes a breath, trying to keep her voice calm, but unable to mask her tension. “We just want to make sure all passengers feel comfortable, sir.” Shaq slightly tilts his head, his sharp gaze seemingly inspecting every expression on her face.

His composure is not a sign of acceptance, but rather a silent challenge. He leans back, but his voice remains firm and unwavering. “If this is the airline’s rule, I want to see it in writing.” The surrounding space seems to freeze for a moment. Passengers begin exchanging puzzled glances, some subtly leaning forward, clearly waiting to see if the flight attendant could come up with a reasonable explanation.

But the problem is, she can’t. The flight attendant hesitates, her hand instinctively gripping the notebook she was holding, as if trying to find any explanation that might justify the situation. But she knows well that there is no rule prohibiting passengers from wearing jewelry with religious symbols, and there is certainly no clause in the airline’s policy stating that a necklace could make another passenger feel uncomfortable.

The tense moments drag on, revealing her growing anxiety. Her eyes begin to waver, her body leaning slightly back, as if subconsciously trying to retreat from the conversation. But Shaq remains seated, his gaze unwavering, never leaving her. He doesn’t need to say anything more because at that moment, the flight attendant realizes she has just backed herself into an inescapable situation.

 

 

The entire first-class cabin is waiting for an answer, and she has none. The atmosphere in the first-class cabin grows tense, as if someone had just lowered the temperature by a few degrees. No one speaks, but all the passengers’ gazes are fixed on Shaq and the flight attendant, who stands frozen, her face stiff, as if trapped in a situation she can’t escape.

A nearby passenger speaks up, breaking the tense silence. “Would you say this to someone wearing a headscarf or another religious necklace?” The question is like a punch to the logic behind the earlier request. The flight attendant freezes, her eyes clearly wavering, as if she’d been pushed to the edge and didn’t know how to back away.

It’s no longer just a simple conversation; this has become a much larger issue, and she’s starting to realize that. The atmosphere in the first-class cabin grows even more tense, as if the cabin pressure had dropped slightly, not enough to feel suffocating, but it’s no longer as relaxed as before. Soft whispers turn into hushed murmurs, and the passengers’ eyes are no longer focused on their phone screens or magazines; instead, they’re directed at the towering man and the flight attendant standing before him.

Shaq maintains his usual calm demeanor, but anyone observant would have noticed that the muscles in his shoulders had tensed. He doesn’t need to appear angry; his mere presence, his silence, is enough to make everyone understand he’s not pleased. His deep, steady voice breaks the increasingly thick tension in the air. “I’ve flown hundreds of flights, but I’ve never heard anything as ridiculous as this.”

The flight attendant seems to have anticipated this reaction, but still appears flustered. She takes a breath, trying to keep her voice calm, but unable to mask her tension. “We just want to make sure all passengers feel comfortable, sir.” Shaq slightly tilts his head, his sharp gaze seemingly inspecting every expression on her face.

His composure is not a sign of acceptance, but rather a silent challenge. He leans back, but his voice remains firm and unwavering. “If this is the airline’s rule, I want to see it in writing.” The surrounding space seems to freeze for a moment. Passengers begin exchanging puzzled glances, some subtly leaning forward, clearly waiting to see if the flight attendant could come up with a reasonable explanation.

 

 

But the problem is, she can’t. The flight attendant hesitates, her hand instinctively gripping the notebook she was holding, as if trying to find any explanation that might justify the situation. But she knows well that there is no rule prohibiting passengers from wearing jewelry with religious symbols, and there is certainly no clause in the airline’s policy stating that a necklace could make another passenger feel uncomfortable.

The tense moments drag on, revealing her growing anxiety. Her eyes begin to waver, her body leaning slightly back, as if subconsciously trying to retreat from the conversation. But Shaq remains seated, his gaze unwavering, never leaving her. He doesn’t need to say anything more because at that moment, the flight attendant realizes she has just backed herself into an inescapable situation.

 

 

The entire first-class cabin is waiting for an answer, and she has none. The atmosphere in the first-class cabin grows tense, as if someone had just lowered the temperature by a few degrees. No one speaks, but all the passengers’ gazes are fixed on Shaq and the flight attendant, who stands frozen, her face stiff, as if trapped in a situation she can’t escape.

A nearby passenger speaks up, breaking the tense silence. “Would you say this to someone wearing a headscarf or another religious necklace?” The question is like a punch to the logic behind the earlier request. The flight attendant freezes, her eyes clearly wavering, as if she’d been pushed to the edge and didn’t know how to back away.

It’s no longer just a simple conversation; this has become a much larger issue, and she’s starting to realize that. The atmosphere in the first-class cabin grows even more tense, as if the cabin pressure had dropped slightly, not enough to feel suffocating, but it’s no longer as relaxed as before. Soft whispers turn into hushed murmurs, and the passengers’ eyes are no longer focused on their phone screens or magazines; instead, they’re directed at the towering man and the flight attendant standing before him.

Shaq maintains his usual calm demeanor, but anyone observant would have noticed that the muscles in his shoulders had tensed. He doesn’t need to appear angry; his mere presence, his silence, is enough to make everyone understand he’s not pleased. His deep, steady voice breaks the increasingly thick tension in the air. “I’ve flown hundreds of flights, but I’ve never heard anything as ridiculous as this.”

 

 

The flight attendant seems to have anticipated this reaction, but still appears flustered. She takes a breath, trying to keep her voice calm, but unable to mask her tension. “We just want to make sure all passengers feel comfortable, sir.” Shaq slightly tilts his head, his sharp gaze seemingly inspecting every expression on her face.

His composure is not a sign of acceptance, but rather a silent challenge. He leans back, but his voice remains firm and unwavering. “If this is the airline’s rule, I want to see it in writing.” The surrounding space seems to freeze for a moment. Passengers begin exchanging puzzled glances, some subtly leaning forward, clearly waiting to see if the flight attendant could come up with a reasonable explanation.

 

 

But the problem is, she can’t. The flight attendant hesitates, her hand instinctively gripping the notebook she was holding, as if trying to find any explanation that might justify the situation. But she knows well that there is no rule prohibiting passengers from wearing jewelry with religious symbols, and there is certainly no clause in the airline’s policy stating that a necklace could make another passenger feel uncomfortable.

The tense moments drag on, revealing her growing anxiety. Her eyes begin to waver, her body leaning slightly back, as if subconsciously trying to retreat from the conversation. But Shaq remains seated, his gaze unwavering, never leaving her. He doesn’t need to say anything more because at that moment, the flight attendant realizes she has just backed herself into an inescapable situation.

The entire first-class cabin is waiting for an answer, and she has none. The atmosphere in the first-class cabin grows tense, as if someone had just lowered the temperature by a few degrees.