There’s nothing worse than a rude seatmate on a long flight. But when a stranger treated my husband’s seat like her personal ottoman, I didn’t just complain—I took action.
Alton and I were exhausted after a family trip, looking forward to a peaceful flight home. But the woman behind us had other ideas. She propped her bare feet on Alton’s seat, kicking it rhythmically while chatting loudly.
Alton asked her to stop—twice. The flight attendant even stepped in. But the second we were left alone, her feet were right back where they didn’t belong.
That’s when I got creative.
When the drink cart arrived, I ordered water—and waited. I poured some onto her bag under the seat, then “accidentally” spilled the rest onto her feet when she kicked again.
Her reaction was instant. “Are you serious?!” she screeched.
I blinked. “Oops—must’ve been turbulence.”
For the rest of the flight, she kept her feet firmly on the ground, whispering angrily to her friend. Alton just shook his head, amused.
As we left, she shot me a venomous look, her bag still damp. I just grinned.
Sometimes, the quietest revenge is the most satisfying.
What would you have done?
