A Woman Kept Throwing Her Long Hair over Another Passenger’s Seat and Into Her Food – When She Told the Passenger to Deal with It, the Passenger Taught Her a Lesson the Whole Cabin Would Remember
“Thank you.” He retrieved his glasses. “I believe I’ve just been assaulted by a shampoo commercial.”
“I believe you have.”
“Should I file a report?”
“It would be a long form. There’s a lot of surface area.”
“I believe I’ve just been assaulted by a shampoo commercial.”
He smiled. “Harold.”
“Martha.”
“Martha, I do hope she isn’t sitting near us.”
She sat down directly in front of my seat.
Of course she did.
“Oh my God. Not you again.”
She sat down directly in front of my seat.
What a small world.”
“Are you following me?”
“No, dear. Your perfume arrived first.”
When the seat belt sign went off, she stood up in the aisle with the phone held behind her.
“Okay, guys, you asked for the back view.”
“Eight hundred dollars, guys. Look at that length. Worth every penny.”
“Are you following me?”
She turned slowly, like a rotisserie.
Then she sat down and flung the whole thing back over her seat like laundry on a line.
It landed on my tray table, down my armrest and,
one strand at a time, across my forehead.
“Excuse me. Would you mind moving your hair?”
“Not now. I’m live.”
“I’m sure your viewers are impressed. I’d be more impressed if it stayed on your side.”
“Not now. I’m live.”
“Oh my God. It’s hair.”
Harold leaned in. “Eight hundred dollars. I paid less for my first car.”
“Did it come with a steering wheel?”
“Eventually.”
I laughed. It helped, for a while.
But an hour later, I was ready to launch myself into orbit from sheer rage.
“Oh my
God. It’s hair.”
“Seriously, why are you so obsessed with my hair?”
“I’m not obsessed. I’m simply sitting behind it.”
“You’re jealous. When was the last time you had hair like this? Fifty years ago?”
My hair is short and silver now, and I don’t miss the old kind.
I raised three children and buried a husband, and I’m not apologizing for a single year.
“Actually, I had rather lovely hair during the Reagan administration.”
“Eight hundred dollars.”
She laughed. “See? Ancient history.”
Then the lunch cart arrived.
The flight
attendant’s badge said Kelly.
Brittany flung her hair back to take a selfie with her tray, and the ends went straight into my rice.
