Her Hair Took Over My Airplane Seat. My Revenge Was Petty… and Delicious

All I wanted was a quiet flight—just me, a book, and a little personal space. But the young woman in front of me had other plans. The moment she sat down, her long hair spilled over the back of her seat and onto my tray table like it belonged there. I waited. I cleared my throat. Nothing. It was everywhere. Draped over my water bottle. Brushing the edge of my book. Floating into my pretzels. I could feel my eye twitch. So I reached into my tote bag and pulled out a small pack of…

I don’t ask for much on flights. A clean seat. A working air vent. And just enough personal space to pretend I’m not hurtling through the sky in a tin can elbow-to-elbow with strangers.

But apparently, that was too much to ask on Flight 1172 from Denver to Atlanta.

She boarded like she owned the cabin. Maybe early twenties, head buried in her phone, Starbucks in hand, oversized sweater hanging off one shoulder like she was en route to a photo shoot instead of a middle seat. She tossed her carry-on into the overhead bin with one hand and flipped her hair with the other—a thick, flowing wave of extensions that would make Rapunzel jealous.