A young woman made fun of my age at the airport. Then, throughout our flight, she repeatedly flung her long hair into my face and even into my meals. Apparently, she assumed a 73-year-old woman wouldn’t dare fight back. Unfortunately for her, I’d made a rather unusual purchase at the duty-free shop shortly before boarding.
“YOU TURNED MY $800 HAIR INTO A KINDERGARTEN CRAFT PROJECT!”
More than 30,000 feet above the ground, a young woman stood in the middle of an airplane aisle. One hand was stuck to her own hair, while she used the other to point accusingly at me.
The expression on her face suggested she would have happily strangled me right there.
Every passenger turned to look in my direction.
But just two hours earlier, nobody could have predicted how we’d end up in this ridiculous situation.
Two hours before that, I’d been standing in line at an airport duty-free shop.
I wanted to buy a small gift for my granddaughter.
The line was moving painfully slowly.
And the reason was standing directly in front of me.
A young woman, perhaps twenty-eight, with blonde hair that reached almost to the backs of her knees. She was holding her phone at arm’s length in front of her face.
The name BRITTANY was spelled out in sparkling rhinestones across her phone case.
Presumably in case she ever forgot what she was called.
“Okay, guys, help me decide! Should I get this perfume or the other one?”
She held two bottles up to her phone camera.
“Excuse me, are you ready to pay for those?” the cashier asked politely.
“One second! My followers are deciding!”
Dear child, at my age, a moment that long really ought to come with a chair.
“I know! They both smell absolutely amazing! Maybe I’ll just buy both.”
The cashier announced the total.
Brittany blinked briefly.
Then she smiled into her camera again.
“Beauty is an investment, right?”
She paid.
Afterward, she picked up a perfume tester and generously sprayed her neck, her wrists, and finally her hair.
The cloud of fragrance reached me a few seconds later.
I started coughing.
“Excuse me, sweetheart. That’s quite a powerful perfume.”
“It’s from France.”
“I seriously doubt the French intended us to be able to taste it.”
The cashier made a sound suspiciously similar to a suppressed laugh.
“Guys, apparently people are already getting offended by my perfume,” Brittany informed her viewers.
Then she dramatically tossed her hair over her shoulder.
The entire blonde mane smacked me directly across the face.
“Careful, darling. Your hair just hit me.”
“Then don’t stand so close behind me.”
“I’m standing in a checkout line.”
“Ever heard of personal space?”
I took a step backward.
Brittany whipped her head to the side again.
This time, her hair struck my hand.
“Does that always need so much room?” I asked.
“What?”
“Your hair.”
“It’s called volume.”
“Oh, I see. I thought Cousin Itt from The Addams Family had finally discovered a decent conditioner.”
The cashier couldn’t contain her laughter anymore.
“Whatever. Some people just don’t know how to appreciate beautiful hair,” Brittany snapped.
At the door, she turned around one last time.
“Maybe you’re just jealous.”
“Of your perfume? Not particularly.”
She disappeared.
Her fragrance remained behind like a guest who hadn’t realized the party ended hours ago.
The cashier scanned my gift.
“Your granddaughter is a very lucky girl.”
“She’d better be. Apparently, this is the only thing she wants from me.”
I carefully tucked the gift into my handbag and headed toward my gate.
At that moment, I was absolutely certain of two things.
First, I would never see that young woman again.
And second, the gift would reach my granddaughter Emily completely unharmed.
I was wrong on both counts.
My seat was fairly close to the back of the airplane.
I reached my row at almost the exact moment a familiar cloud of fragrance arrived.
Heavy.
Sweet.
French.
“Okay, guys! We’re finally boarding! Let me show you my seat!”
An elderly gentleman who was supposed to sit in my row was struggling to lift his travel bag into the overhead compartment.
One row ahead of us, the blonde woman stopped.
She spun around dramatically to show her viewers the airplane cabin.
Her hair followed the movement a fraction of a second later.
And smacked the elderly gentleman directly in the face.
His glasses flew one way.
His bag went the other.
I caught the bag.
“Thank you very much,” he said, retrieving his glasses. “I believe I’ve just been attacked by a shampoo commercial.”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
“Should I press charges?”
“The paperwork would probably be quite lengthy. After all, we’re dealing with an enormous attack surface.”
He smiled.
“Harold.”
“Martha.”
“Martha, I sincerely hope that young lady isn’t sitting anywhere near us.”
Brittany settled into the seat directly in front of mine.
Of course she did.
“Oh my God! Not you again!”
“It’s a small world.”
“Are you stalking me or something?”
“No, sweetheart. Your perfume got here before I did.”
Later, when the seat belt sign went off, Brittany stood in the aisle and held her phone behind her.
“Okay, guys, you wanted to see my hair from the back!”
She slowly turned around.
“Eight hundred dollars! Look at that length! Worth every single penny!”
She rotated like a chicken on a rotisserie.
Then she sat down and flung her entire head of hair over the backrest as though she were hanging laundry over a clothesline.
Her hair landed on my tray table, spread across my armrest, and settled strand by strand against my forehead.
“Excuse me. Could you please move your hair back to your own side?”
“Not now. I’m live.”
“I’m sure your viewers are delighted. Personally, I’d be even more delighted if your hair stayed on your side of the seat.”
“Oh my God. It’s just hair!”
Harold leaned toward me.
“Eight hundred dollars. My first car cost less than that.”
“Did it at least have a steering wheel?”
“Eventually.”
I burst out laughing.
For a while, that helped me maintain my good mood.
But an hour later, I was so furious I was practically ready to launch myself into orbit.
“Seriously, why are you so obsessed with my hair?” Brittany asked.
“I’m not obsessed with it. I just happen to be sitting directly behind it.”
“You’re just jealous. When was the last time you had hair like this? Fifty years ago?”
These days, my hair is short and silver-gray.
And I don’t miss my old hairstyle one bit.
I’ve raised three children and buried my husband. I have absolutely no reason to apologize for any of the years I’ve lived.
“Actually, I had quite beautiful hair during the Reagan administration.”
Brittany laughed.
“See? Ancient history.”
Then the lunch cart arrived.
Kelly was the name printed on the flight attendant’s badge.
Brittany wanted to take a selfie with her meal and once again tossed her hair over the backrest.
The ends landed directly in my rice.
“Excuse me! Your hair is in my lunch!”
She didn’t even turn around.
“Then don’t eat it.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Problem solved.”
“Not exactly. I’d still like to eat the rest of my meal.”
“Oh my God, you make such a big deal out of everything.”
“You haven’t happened to see my fork up there, have you? It seems to have disappeared.”
A teenage boy across the aisle snorted with laughter.
His mother pinched his arm, although the corners of her own mouth were already twitching suspiciously.
I pressed the call button.
Kelly took away my tray and specifically asked Brittany to keep her hair on her own side of the seat.
“Yeah, yeah! Fine!”
The moment Kelly disappeared, Brittany turned back to her phone.
“Guys, apparently having hair is illegal on this airplane!”
Then she flung her blonde mane straight backward again.
“Oops.”
My replacement meal arrived.
For exactly two minutes, I was able to eat in peace.
I don’t particularly enjoy flying, so I’d ordered a small glass of white wine to calm my nerves.
When the airplane shook slightly, I held the glass steady with both hands.
Then came the hair.
Not beside my glass.
Straight into it.
The long ends swished through the wine like a paintbrush in a jar of water.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!”
“What now?!”
“Your hair is dangling in my wine.”
“Maybe someone your age shouldn’t be drinking alcohol anyway.”
“Excuse me?”
She held her phone over the backrest.
“Guys, she’s looking at me like a really angry grandma!”
“Could you please get that thing out of my face?”
“Relax. I’ve got eleven hundred people watching me right now. You’re barely a footnote.”
“Should I call Kelly again?” Harold asked quietly.
I looked at the wine I no longer wanted to touch.
“No, Harold. I think I’ve finally had enough.”
Slowly, I reached for my handbag beneath the seat.
Brittany continued streaming without a care in the world.
I took a hundred-dollar bill from my wallet and let it flutter down onto the floor beside her feet.
“Sweetheart? I think you dropped something.”
“What?”
She glanced down, bent forward, snatched up the bill, and immediately slipped it into her handbag.
“Well, at least you’re not completely blind yet. Thanks.”
Naturally, she took the money.
Apparently, in her world, anything that landed near her automatically belonged to her.
But her hair was so long that it could occupy two places at once.
While Brittany bent down, the long strands remained draped over her seat.
Their ends formed a large blonde pile on my tray table.
I opened the gift I’d bought for Emily.
It was a container of pink glitter slime.
I scooped out a generous amount and spread it through the ends of Brittany’s hair.
Then, just to be thorough, I worked my way a little farther up the strands.
Originally, I’d only intended to leave her a small reminder.
“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” Harold murmured.
“Then just keep your hair to yourself.”
“At my age, that’s not particularly difficult.”
Brittany straightened up again.
The teenage boy across the aisle noticed it first.
“Mom! Look!”
“Don’t stare at people.”
“But there’s something in her hair!”
“What? Why is everyone staring at me?” Brittany demanded.
Nobody answered.
The boy clapped both hands over his mouth.
Brittany turned her phone around to use the screen as a mirror.
Her livestream was still running.
Which meant her eleven hundred viewers got exactly the same view she did.
Pink.
Sparkling.
And sitting directly on her shoulder.
“WHAT IS THAT?!”
She touched the sticky substance.
When she pulled her finger away, a long string stretched between her hair and her hand.
“IS THAT SLIME?!”
“Glitter slime, sweetheart. It was actually meant for my granddaughter. But now you get to try it first.”
“YOU PUT SLIME IN MY HAIR?!”
“Your hair was in my lunch. I thought we were exchanging things now.”
“THESE EXTENSIONS COST EIGHT HUNDRED DOLLARS!”
“Yes, darling. You’ve mentioned that already. I’d advise you to stop touching them for now.”
“DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!”
The slime refused to break apart.
It stretched like a long, glittering rope from her head to her hand.
Her long artificial fingernails sank into it like forks into spaghetti.
When she finally managed to free her hand, pink strings hung between her fingers like melted cheese.
She tried wiping the sticky mess on her jeans.
Then on the armrest.
Now there was slime stuck there, too.
She shook her head.
A sticky strand slapped against her cheek and remained there.
At that moment, I felt as though I’d finally taught her a lesson.
What I hadn’t yet considered, however, was what might be waiting for me after the plane landed.
Brittany grabbed at her hair with the hand still holding her phone.
Naturally, the phone stuck to her palm.
“Mom, she’s making cotton candy!” the boy shouted excitedly.
His mother tried to quiet him.
But by then, she was laughing far too hard herself.
“YOU OLD WITCH! LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE!”
Kelly hurried down the aisle.
“Ma’am, please sit down!”
“I WANT OFF THIS PLANE RIGHT NOW!”
“Ma’am, we’re more than thirty thousand feet in the air.”
“I DON’T CARE! LOOK AT MY HAIR!”
And that brings us back to the scene where this whole story began.
A screaming young woman, an entire airplane cabin watching, and my little act of mischief stuck to the top of her head.
Kelly eventually persuaded Brittany to sit down.
Her phone was still stuck to her palm. The screen faced outward and was pointing directly at her face.
“Can somebody please turn off this livestream? I can’t do it! My fingers are stuck!”
“Please hold still for a moment.”
I took a napkin, carefully gripped the edges of her phone, and searched for the red button.
It took three attempts before I finally managed to end the stream.
The screen was smeared with slime.
Before the image disappeared, I caught a glimpse of the final comments.
HAHAHAHA!
Somebody get her some oil!
Why isn’t anyone helping her?
Dude, she threw her hair into Grandma’s food for an ENTIRE HOUR!
That grandma is my hero, seriously!
“What are people saying?” Brittany asked.
“They’re concerned about your hair.”
“Really?”
“Mostly.”
Kelly knelt beside my seat.
“Ma’am. Did you do this?”
I’d had my childish fun. Now it was time to start behaving like someone my age again.
“Yes,” I answered. “And I’m going to fix it.”
“There’s an empty seat beside her. Please try to resolve this calmly.”
I suspected there might be serious trouble waiting for me after landing.
Harold handed me the tiny bottle of olive oil that had come with my salad dressing.
Brittany glared at me.
“Why should I let you anywhere near my hair again?”
“Because I know how to remove the slime. And I promise I won’t put any more in.”
I tested it on a single strand.
One drop of oil.
A little patience.
And the slime began to loosen.
“Don’t you dare touch the attachments holding my extensions!” Brittany warned.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
I’d raised three children.
One of them had shown a remarkable talent for getting chewing gum tangled in his hair when he was little.
Compared with that, this glitter slime was almost easy.
Kelly returned and leaned down toward us.
“Would you like us to arrange for the police to meet the aircraft after landing?” she asked Brittany.
“Yes!” Brittany snapped. “Absolutely!”
Kelly looked toward me.
“I understand,” I said.
But then this rude young woman surprised me one more time.
“I’ll need to document the incident,” Kelly explained. “I’ll come back to speak with you before we land.”
Then she continued down the aisle.
Brittany examined the oily ends of her hair.
“These extensions cost almost all the money I had for this month.”
“Then why did you spend so much on them?”
“Because I wanted to look good.”
“But you already looked good before.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then try explaining it to me.”
She fell silent for a moment.
“Everyone online looks perfect. Perfect hair, perfect skin, everything.”
“And you think buying all those things will make you happy?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“That’s a rather expensive maybe.”
“I couldn’t really afford the perfume either,” she admitted quietly. “I’m twenty-eight, and I already feel old.”
“Oh, sweetheart. You’re talking to a seventy-three-year-old woman.”
“I know.”
“And I’m having a perfectly wonderful time. Apart from this flight.”
She almost smiled.
I didn’t lecture her.
Sometimes, hands can accomplish more than a long speech.
“Your hands look like my grandma’s,” Brittany suddenly said.
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
“Yes. She used to braid my hair when I was little.”
“Does she still do that?”
“No. She passed away a few years ago.”
I gathered three clean strands of hair between my fingers.
“Well, I haven’t forgotten how to braid.”
By then, all the slime had been removed.
What remained were extensions that were rather oily but completely undamaged.
I braided her long hair into a simple plait so it wouldn’t fall over the backrest again.
“So they’re not ruined?” Brittany asked.
“They’re quite oily now, but wash them thoroughly twice, and they’ll be fine.”
“I haven’t worn a braid in years.”
“It suits you. You’re a pretty girl, Brittany. You don’t need to spend eight hundred dollars to prove it.”
She studied her braid for a while.
Then she spoke quietly.
“I’m sorry I kept throwing my hair in your face. And I’m sorry about what I said about your age.”
“That was rather rude.”
“I know.”
I secured the end of the braid.
“And I’m sorry I put slime in your hair.”
“Yeah. That was pretty mean, too.”
“It was.”
Brittany examined her hairstyle once more.
“Still, thank you for fixing everything.”
“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”
A few minutes later, Kelly returned.
“Ma’am, regarding the police: Would you still like us to contact the authorities after landing?”
Brittany hesitated.
“No. I’ve changed my mind.”
Kelly nodded and continued down the aisle.
Once she was gone, I turned back toward Brittany.
“Why did you change your mind?”
“Because I know how that video looks,” she muttered.
“And how does it look?”
“Like I deserved it.”
“I might have put that a little more kindly. But I can’t say I completely disagree.”
She laughed softly.
Now I wasn’t sure whether I should tell her the rest.
“Oh, and sweetheart, I believe you picked up something of mine earlier.”
“What?”
“A hundred dollars.”
“THAT WAS YOUR MONEY? I THOUGHT IT WAS MINE!”
“Of course you did, darling.”
I pretended to believe her.
It seemed like the kindest thing I could do for both of us at that moment.
Brittany took the bill out of her handbag and handed it back to me.
“Apology accepted.”
Then I returned to my seat.
Harold had kindly kept it available for me.
“Would you care to have coffee with me after we land?” he asked.
“Are you this forward with every woman you meet on an airplane?”
“Only the dangerous ones.”
I laughed.
At that moment, the captain announced that we were beginning our descent.
My granddaughter Emily would be getting a check instead of her present.
And over the weekend, we’d go shopping together for a new container of glitter slime.
This time, however, I would make absolutely certain it ended up with my granddaughter.
