After weeks of nonstop work, I finally boarded my flight—craving nothing more than a few peaceful hours in the sky. My plan was simple: watch a movie, unwind, and disconnect from the world for a while. But apparently, tranquility wasn’t included with my ticket.
A young woman, probably in her early twenties, took the seat in front of me. The moment she sat down, she flipped her long, thick hair right over the back of her seat—straight onto my tray table, draping it across my screen like it belonged there.
I took a deep breath and leaned forward.
“Excuse me,” I said politely. “Would you mind moving your hair?”
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She turned around, mumbled a quick apology, and pulled it back. Problem solved—or so I thought.
Ten minutes later, the same thing happened. A cascade of hair poured over my seat again, completely blocking my view.
I asked her once more—still calm, still courteous. This time, she didn’t even look at me. She just scrolled through her phone like I was invisible.
That’s when I decided a gentle reminder in basic manners was in order.
I pulled out a few sticks of gum, started chewing slowly, and when they were perfectly sticky, I pressed tiny bits into the strands of hair hanging in front of me—one at a time, methodically and quietly.
Fifteen minutes later, she reached back, touched her hair, and froze.
“What the—what is this?!” she yelped, twisting around in shock.
Without looking up from my movie, I said evenly, “That’s what happens when you invade someone else’s space.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re insane!”
“And you’re inconsiderate,” I replied calmly. “Now, you can either sit like that for the rest of the flight and deal with it later—or I can help you cut it out right now. I’ve got scissors in my bag.”
She didn’t say another word. Instead, she gathered her hair into the tightest bun I’ve ever seen and sat perfectly still until we landed.
Finally—silence.
Finally—peace.
I leaned back, hit play, and enjoyed my movie at last—screen clear, lesson delivered.
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