The woman in 12B clearly thought her beautiful hair gave her special privileges. As soon as we reached cruising altitude, her golden tresses came spilling over my tray table like an unwanted curtain, blocking my movie and invading my space. A polite nudge got me an eye roll and a half-hearted hair flip, but ten minutes later, the silky invasion resumed.
That’s when I decided to fight fire with… gum. Three pieces of minty fresh chewing gum, to be exact. With the stealth of a seasoned traveler, I carefully worked each piece into different sections of her hair, making sure to distribute the sticky justice evenly.
The moment of realization was everything I hoped for. Her gasp echoed through the cabin as her hands discovered the mess. “This is what happens when you treat someone else’s space like your personal salon,” I whispered, never looking up from my screen. The manicure scissors I offered to help remove the gum sealed the deal – for the rest of the flight, her hair stayed neatly contained in a bun, and I finally got the peaceful journey I’d paid for.
