After three straight days of nonstop work, I finally boarded my flight — exhausted, drained, and dreaming of one thing: peace. A movie, a nap, maybe even a glass of wine. Just a few quiet hours above the clouds.
But apparently, the universe had other plans.
As soon as I settled into my seat and pulled out my tablet, it happened. A girl in the row ahead — maybe in her early 20s, with thick, show-offy hair down to her waist — leaned back… and flung her long locks over her headrest and onto my tray table.
Right across my screen.
At first, I stayed calm. I tapped her shoulder and politely asked if she could move her hair. She apologized sweetly and did.
But ten minutes later, the hair was back — even more spread out, like she was trying to claim real estate on my tray.
This time, I asked again — firmer. No response. She pretended not to hear me.
That’s when I snapped.
I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t cause a scene. Instead, I reached into my bag, unwrapped three pieces of gum, and started chewing — slowly.
Then, while she scrolled on her phone, totally oblivious, I began pressing little balls of gum into her silky strands. One. Two. Three.
Fifteen minutes later, she shifted — and froze.
“What the…?” she whispered, grabbing her hair in horror.
I didn’t even look up from my screen as I said, “That’s what happens when you disrespect someone’s space.”
“You’re insane!” she hissed.
“And you’re rude,” I replied calmly. “You’ve got two options: keep flying with gum in your hair and enjoy a fun little haircut later… or I can lend you the manicure scissors from my bag and help right now. Your call.”
She stared at me, pale as a ghost.
I leaned in slightly. “If you toss your hair back here one more time, you’ll need a wig for your next flight. And I cut very neatly — even in turbulence.”
She didn’t say another word. Just sat upright like a statue, hair twisted into the tightest bun I’ve ever seen.
I finally got to enjoy my movie in peace — and let me tell you, it was the most satisfying flight I’ve had in years.
