After three grueling days of failed meetings, canceled flights, and sleepless nights, I finally boarded a delayed flight home, desperate for peace. All I wanted was a movie, maybe a nap — anything to reset.
The woman in front of me, though, had other plans. She was young, stylish, loud on her phone, and completely oblivious to everyone around her. From blocking the aisle to staging an airplane selfie shoot, she carried herself with effortless entitlement.
When the plane began to taxi, she leaned back, flipped her long golden hair over her seat, and let it spill across my tray table — covering my laptop screen like a curtain.
I stared at it, half in disbelief, half in irritation. Surely she’d notice? But no — she scrolled on, perfectly content.
Finally, I leaned forward. “Excuse me,” I said as politely as I could. “Would you mind moving your hair? It’s covering my table.”
She looked back, surprised, muttered a casual “sorry,” and pulled it forward. Problem solved… or so I thought.
