She Slammed Her Seat Into My Knees—So I Taught Her a Lesson She’ll Never Forget (2 of 3)

Comfortable for her, maybe. For me, it was torture. I tried shifting, stretching, anything—but my legs were locked in place. Deciding I wasn’t going to let this slide, I pressed the call button.

The flight attendant arrived, cheerful but professional. “How can I help?”

I explained, and she immediately leaned toward the woman. “Ma’am, would you mind adjusting your seat slightly for the passenger behind you?”

That was apparently the trigger. The woman spun around with a glare sharp enough to slice steel. “My back hurts. I paid for this seat. I’ll sit however I like.”

The attendant kept her composure. “We ask all passengers to consider each other’s comfort.”

With a sigh loud enough for the entire row to hear, the woman begrudgingly raised her seat a couple of inches. “Happy now?” she snapped.

I smiled politely. “Well, my knees haven’t grown back yet, but yes, thank you.”

The attendant gave me a discreet wink and walked on.

For a while, it seemed tolerable. But thirty minutes later—bam! Her seat shot backward again, pinning me tighter than before.

“Unbelievable,” I muttered, but she pretended not to hear. Diplomacy had failed. Something inside me decided it was time for a different strategy.

Revenge doesn’t always require words—sometimes it just needs gravity. I lowered my tray table, accepted the tomato juice offered by the attendant, and placed the cup carefully at the edge—right beneath her reclined seat.