After days of work that felt endless, I finally boarded the plane. I had been looking forward to this flight like it was salvation—a few hours to turn off my brain, dive into a movie, and just breathe. Peace. Silence. A little corner of calm in this chaos of life.
But as soon as I settled into my seat, I realized that my dreams of tranquility were about to be demolished.
In the seat in front of me sat a young woman, maybe in her early twenties. She had long, thick hair that glistened under the cabin lights. And within moments of sitting down… she flung it over my tray table, completely covering my screen.
I froze. Is this… real? I could barely see the movie I had been waiting to watch all week.
I didn’t want confrontation. I leaned forward politely and said, “Excuse me, could you move your hair, please?”
She glanced back, gave a perfunctory “sorry,” and tucked it away. I breathed a sigh of relief.
Ten minutes later… it was back. Thick strands cascading over my tray table again, blocking the screen entirely.
I tried again, calmly: “Could you please move your hair?”
Nothing. She didn’t even look at me. Pretended I wasn’t there.
And then something snapped.
ENOUGH.
I realized I had two options: either suffer through the rest of the flight with my screen hijacked, or teach this rude woman a lesson she wouldn’t forget.
I reached into my bag and pulled out three pieces of gum. Chewed them one by one, as if nothing unusual was happening. Then… I began weaving them quietly into her hair, strand by strand.
It was slow, methodical. Zen-like. Fifteen minutes passed, and still she didn’t notice.
Finally, she turned around, confusion on her face.
“What… what are you doing?” she asked, panic creeping into her voice.
I smiled sweetly. The calm before the storm.
“You’ve been ignoring me,” I said softly. “So I thought I’d help you remember to respect the people around you.”
Her jaw dropped. The sticky gum tangled in her long hair. She tried to brush it out, but the more she pulled, the worse it became. The stewardess came over, horrified, as I sat back and pretended to be shocked.
“I… I don’t know how this happened,” she stammered.
Oh, I know exactly how it happened.
By the time we landed, her hair looked like a modern art sculpture. And me? I finally got to watch my movie in peace.
Sometimes, justice isn’t loud. Sometimes it’s sticky, slow, and unforgettable.
