I boarded that flight desperate for a few hours of peace—just me, a movie, and some quiet after a hectic week. No luck: a young woman in front of me immediately swept her long hair over the seat, completely blocking my screen. I bit my tongue at first, but when I politely asked her to move it, she complied—only for her hair to tumble back a few minutes later. A second gentle request went ignored, and something inside me snapped. So I reached into my bag, pulled out three pieces of gum, and calmly—almost clinically—wove each piece into her strands,…I boarded that flight desperate for a few hours of peace—just me, a movie, and some quiet after a hectic week. No luck: a young woman in front of me immediately swept her long hair over the seat, completely blocking my screen. I bit my tongue at first, but when I politely asked her to move it, she complied—only for her hair to tumble back a few minutes later. A second gentle request went ignored, and something inside me snapped.
So I reached into my bag, pulled out three pieces of gum, and calmly—almost clinically—wove each piece into her strands, one by one, without changing my expression. It took about fifteen minutes before she realized her hair felt odd. She froze, fingers fumbling at sticky clumps, and finally gasped, “What is this?” I didn’t look away from the movie. “It’s the price of disrespect,” I said quietly. “Your options: spend the rest of the flight untangling gum from every strand, or let me trim half your hair with these manicure scissors.” I offered the tiny scissors with the same calm tone I’d used for everything else.
Her face went pale. She gathered her hair into a tight bun and didn’t move again until the plane touched down. I settled back into my seat and pressed play, savoring the hard-won silence.
Looking back, I’m still not sure if I overreacted, but I definitely got my movie time—and a valuable lesson in respect—back. What do you think: did I go too far, or was it exactly the wake-up call she needed?
