Air travel is never comfortable when you’re tall, but this flight crossed into cruel and unusual punishment territory. The moment we reached cruising altitude, the guy in 12B threw his seat back like he was launching himself into space – crushing my knees in the process. His response to my polite request? “Should’ve booked first class, junior.”
Normally I’d suffer in silence, but something about his smarmy tone flipped a switch. That’s when I remembered the powdered donuts in my backpack. What started as innocent snacking turned into a masterclass in crumb distribution – all strategically aimed at his balding spot. Each bite sent another dusting of powdered sugar onto his headrest like a delicious snowstorm.
When he finally snapped and uprighted his seat, the relief was immediate. My mom shot me a look that said “you’re grounded” and “I’m proud of you” simultaneously. As we deplaned, Mr. Recliner gave me a death glare. I responded with my brightest smile and one final donut bite that may or may not have been directly over his carry-on. Sometimes justice tastes sweet – literally.
