A young woman kept throwing her $800 hair into my food on a flight when I asked her to stop, she snapped, “Then don’t eat it!” She had no idea what I had in my purse.
I was seventy-three and flying to my granddaughter’s graduation when a curtain of blonde extensions came flying over the seat in front of me and struck me across the face.
I pushed the hair away from my coffee and leaned forward.
“Excuse me, dear. Would you mind keeping your hair on your side?”
The young woman turned around. She had long acrylic nails, glossy pink lips, and a piece of gum she was chewing loudly.
“It’s hair, lady.”
“I can see that. But it’s in my drink.”
She rolled her eyes, tossed the blonde strands over her shoulder, and returned to her phone.
Five minutes later, they came over the seat again.
This time, the ends landed right in my lunch.
“Excuse me. Your hair is in my food.”
She turned around with an annoyed expression.
“Then move your food.”
I stared at her.
“Where exactly would you like me to move it? I’m sitting on an airplane.”
A woman across the aisle shook her head.
The blonde shrugged.
“Whatever. Just don’t touch my hair.”
I pressed the call button, and a flight attendant came over. Her name tag said Monica, and she looked about as tired as I felt.
I explained what had happened.
Monica politely asked the young woman to keep her hair in front of her seat.
“Fine,” she snapped.
But as soon as Monica walked away, the girl looked back at me, smiled, and deliberately threw her hair over the seat again.
It brushed against my cheek.
“Oops.”
I looked at the long blonde strands hanging over my tray table.
I’d been polite three times.
Apparently, that was three times too many.
My name is Helen, and at seventy-three, I’ve learned that being old doesn’t necessarily mean being patient.
I raised three sons, worked in a school cafeteria for twenty-six years, and spent most of my marriage listening to my husband complain about people who had no manners.
My husband, Robert, passed away four years ago. Since then, I’d been learning to travel alone, something I never particularly enjoyed.
This flight was taking me to Chicago, where my granddaughter Kate was graduating from nursing school.
I’d been looking forward to seeing her walk across that stage for months.
Kate had worked incredibly hard, and I was bringing her a small gold necklace that had belonged to my mother.
I also had a little container of blue glitter slime tucked inside my purse.
That was for her seven-year-old brother, Danny, who had recently decided that making sticky things was the most exciting activity in the world.
I’d bought it at an airport gift shop because I knew he’d ask whether Grandma had brought him anything.
At the time, I had no idea how useful that ridiculous little purchase would become.
The trouble actually started before we boarded.
I first encountered the blonde woman at the airport coffee shop, where she was taking pictures of herself while the cashier waited for her to finish ordering.
She held up a line of at least six people while trying to decide which drink would look better on camera.
When an elderly gentleman behind her cleared his throat, she glanced over her shoulder.
“Can you relax? It’s not like you’ve got anywhere important to be.”
I remember thinking that somebody hadn’t taught that girl much about manners.
Then she ordered a large iced coffee, took two photographs of it, and left without thanking the cashier.
I was relieved when she disappeared into the crowd.
Naturally, she ended up sitting directly in front of me.
Her name was Skylar.
I learned that because she’d spent the first twenty minutes of the flight introducing herself to whoever was watching her videos.
She was twenty-six, loved expensive makeup, and apparently believed that everyone in the world was interested in watching her adjust her hair.
“These extensions cost nine hundred dollars,” she announced into her phone shortly after takeoff. “But they’re totally worth it. Look at this length!”
She stood in the aisle, turned sideways, and swung her hair around to show the camera.
The gentleman sitting beside me had to lean away to avoid getting hit.
“That’s quite a lot of hair,” he whispered.
“And apparently none of it comes with good manners,” I replied.
He chuckled.
His name was Ed, a retired accountant who was traveling to visit his daughter. We had been enjoying a pleasant conversation before Skylar decided to make herself the center of attention.
By the time lunch arrived, I’d already asked her twice to keep her hair away from me.
Then came the incident with my food.
A few minutes after Monica replaced my ruined tray, Skylar began recording another video.
She threw her head backward, sending those expensive extensions spilling over my seat again.
Several strands fell directly into my fresh cup of coffee.
I sighed.
“Young lady, could you please stop doing that?”
She turned around.
“Oh my God. Are you still complaining?”
“Your hair keeps ending up in my food and drinks.”
“Maybe you should stop sitting so close.”
Ed glanced at me.
“Unless you’ve figured out how to move an airplane seat, Helen, I think you’re stuck.”
I laughed despite myself.
Skylar didn’t appreciate that.
She looked at Ed, then back at me.
“You two are obviously bored. Don’t you have some old-people stuff to talk about?”
I felt my face grow warm.
There was a time when a comment like that wouldn’t have bothered me. But lately, I’d noticed how often younger people spoke over me, ignored me, or acted surprised when I understood a joke.
I wasn’t asking for special treatment.
I simply wanted to finish my lunch without somebody else’s hair in it.
“Sweetheart,” I said, “being older doesn’t mean I enjoy having a stranger’s hair in my coffee.”
She smirked.
“Then I guess today’s not your day.”
Several passengers heard her.
One woman shook her head, while a teenage boy across the aisle whispered something to his mother.
Skylar returned to her phone, looking extremely pleased with herself.
A moment later, the hair came flying backward again.
This time, I didn’t say anything.
I sat quietly for several minutes, thinking about what to do.
Ed leaned toward me.
“Would you like me to call the flight attendant again?”
“No, thank you. I believe she’s already done everything she can.”
He looked at my untouched coffee.
“That’s a shame. You paid for that.”
“Yes, and I’d hoped to drink it without conditioner.”
Ed laughed.
Skylar had started recording another video. She held her phone high and angled her face toward the window.
I watched her for a moment.
Then I reached into my purse.
I took out a hundred-dollar bill, folded it once, and allowed it to fall near her feet.
“Excuse me, sweetheart?”
She glanced back.
“What now?”
“I think you dropped some money.”
Her eyes went straight to the floor.
She bent down, grabbed the bill, and quickly slipped it into her purse.
“Oh! Thanks.”
She didn’t even check whether it belonged to her.
“You’re very welcome,” I said.
While she was reaching down, her extensions remained hanging over my seat.
I opened the little container from the airport gift shop.
Inside was a bright blue blob of children’s slime, filled with tiny silver stars.
I took a handful and carefully worked it into the ends of the hair lying across my tray table.
Then I closed the container and put it away.
Ed watched me with his mouth slightly open.
“Helen,” he whispered, “what on earth have you done?”
“Something I may regret before we land.”
He looked toward Skylar, then back at me.
“I believe you may be right.”
I folded my hands in my lap and waited.
The first person to notice was the teenage boy across the aisle.
He was eating pretzels when Skylar sat upright and tossed her hair over one shoulder.
He stopped chewing.
“Mom,” he whispered loudly. “Look at her hair.”
His mother glanced up.
She pressed her lips together and quickly looked away.
Then Ed began making a strange coughing sound.
I knew perfectly well he wasn’t coughing.
A woman two rows behind us leaned into the aisle to see what everyone was looking at.
Skylar noticed.
“What?”
Nobody answered.
She frowned.
“Why are you all staring at me?”
The teenage boy couldn’t help himself.
“There’s something blue in your hair.”
Skylar grabbed her phone and switched to the front camera.
The scream that followed was loud enough to make several passengers jump in their seats.
“WHAT IS THAT?”
She twisted around, trying to see the back of her head.
Long strands of bright blue slime hung from her blonde extensions. Tiny silver stars glittered under the cabin lights.
She touched one of the sticky patches with her fingers.
When she pulled her hand away, the slime stretched between her hair and her acrylic nails.
“OH MY GOD!”
She looked directly at me.
“YOU OLD WITCH! WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY HAIR?”
I didn’t pretend to be innocent.
“It’s children’s slime, dear. It’s supposed to wash out.”
“YOU PUT SLIME IN MY HAIR?”
“Your hair was hanging over my lunch.”
“THESE EXTENSIONS COST NINE HUNDRED DOLLARS!”
“I heard you the first three times.”
A few passengers laughed.
Skylar pulled at another strand, making the sticky mess stretch even farther.
“STOP LAUGHING! THIS ISN’T FUNNY!”
Monica hurried down the aisle.
“Ma’am, please sit down. What’s happening?”
Skylar held out her hands.
“LOOK WHAT SHE DID TO ME!”
Monica blinked at the blue mess.
I don’t think she had ever encountered anything quite like it during her career.
“Ma’am, please stop pulling at your hair.”
“I WANT OFF THIS PLANE!”
Monica glanced toward the windows.
“We’re flying at thirty-five thousand feet. You’ll have to remain seated.”
“I DON’T CARE! SHE RUINED MY HAIR!”
The whole cabin seemed to be watching us now.
And although part of me felt terribly satisfied, another part was beginning to realize that I might have created a much bigger problem than I’d intended.
Monica asked Skylar to stop shouting and return to her seat.
Then she turned to me.
“Ma’am, did you put something in this passenger’s hair?”
“Yes, I did.”
She looked surprised by my honesty.
“I see. Can you tell me what it was?”
I showed her the container.
Monica read the label, examined the slime, and took a slow breath.
“Mrs. Helen, I understand there was a disagreement, but putting something into another passenger’s hair is not acceptable.”
“You’re absolutely right.”
Skylar crossed her arms.
“See? She admits it!”
Monica looked at her.
“And you were repeatedly asked to keep your hair away from the passenger behind you.”
Skylar opened her mouth, but Monica continued.
“I personally spoke to you about it earlier.”
For once, Skylar had nothing to say.
Monica explained that she would have to document the incident and that the airline might need to speak to both of us after landing.
My stomach sank.
I’d been so irritated that I hadn’t stopped to think about what might happen afterward.
The last thing I wanted was for Kate to arrive at the airport and discover that her grandmother had gotten into trouble over a jar of children’s slime.
Still, I wasn’t going to lie about what I’d done.
“Of course,” I told Monica. “I’ll cooperate.”
She nodded and went to get some warm towels.
Skylar sat down heavily.
Her hands were trembling as she examined the sticky ends of her extensions.
“This was supposed to be a good trip,” she muttered.
I looked at her.
“Where are you going?”
“Chicago. Obviously.”
“I meant why.”
She hesitated.
Then she sighed.
“I’m going to a job interview. It’s for a beauty company. I spent almost everything I had getting my hair done.”
That caught me off guard.
I looked at the blue mess clinging to her extensions.
“I see.”
“I wanted to look professional,” she continued. “And now I look ridiculous.”
She sounded much younger than she had earlier.
I thought about Kate and how nervous she’d been before her first nursing interview.
For the first time, I wondered what Skylar had been thinking about before she boarded that plane.
Perhaps she’d been worried about the interview all morning.
Perhaps that’s why she’d been so obsessed with her appearance.
It didn’t excuse how she’d treated me.
But looking at her now, I no longer felt particularly proud of what I’d done.
When Monica returned with the towels, I offered to help.
Skylar stared at me.
“Why would I let you anywhere near my hair again?”
“Because I’ve raised three boys and helped with five grandchildren. I’ve removed chewing gum, glue, peanut butter, and things I still don’t want to identify.”
Ed started laughing.
Even Skylar’s mouth twitched.
“Are you serious?”
“Unfortunately.”
I asked Monica for a little warm water and a small amount of conditioner from my travel bag.
Then I explained how Skylar could work the slime loose without pulling at the extensions.
She was reluctant at first, but after several minutes, one sticky section began to separate.
“Wait,” she said. “It’s coming out.”
“Of course. It’s washable.”
“Then why did you put so much in?”
I looked at the blue glitter still clinging to her hair.
“Because I was angry, and I wasn’t thinking very sensibly.”
She gave me a surprised look.
“I thought you were going to say I deserved it.”
“You were rude to me, Skylar. Very rude. But I shouldn’t have put anything in your hair.”
She was quiet for a moment.
Then she picked up another towel.
“Well, I probably shouldn’t have kept throwing it at you.”
“No, you probably shouldn’t have.”
“And I shouldn’t have said those things about your age.”
I glanced at her.
“That part wasn’t particularly charming either.”
She gave a small, embarrassed laugh.
We worked on the remaining slime until most of it had loosened. Her extensions were damp and looked rather unpleasant, but they hadn’t been pulled out.
I told her a proper wash would probably take care of the rest, though I offered to contribute to a salon appointment if anything remained damaged.
She studied her hair in the phone camera.
“I think it’ll be okay.”
Then she looked at me.
“I’m sorry, Helen.”
It was the first time she’d used my name.
“I’m sorry too, dear.”
A little later, Monica returned to ask whether Skylar still wanted to make a formal complaint.
Skylar looked at me, then at the other passengers.
“No. I don’t think I do.”
Monica explained that she would still be recording what had happened, and we both agreed to give our accounts when the plane landed.
The teenage boy across the aisle raised his hand.
“I saw the whole thing.”
His mother immediately lowered his arm.
“Sweetheart, this isn’t school.”
Several people laughed.
Skylar sank a little farther into her seat.
Then she turned toward me.
“By the way, I think I owe you something.”
She opened her purse and pulled out the hundred-dollar bill.
“I figured out this probably wasn’t mine.”
I took it from her.
“Thank you. I was wondering when you’d remember.”
“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did.”
She stared at me for a moment.
Then she started laughing.
Not the mocking laugh she’d used earlier, but a real one that made her cover her mouth with both hands.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“So my grandchildren keep telling me.”
When the captain announced that we were beginning our descent, I returned to my original seat.
Ed leaned toward me.
“Well, Helen, that was certainly an interesting flight.”
“I’d prefer the next one to be a little quieter.”
He smiled.
“I’ve traveled quite a bit, but I’ve never seen anyone settle an argument with a hundred-dollar bill and children’s slime.”
“Neither have I.”
He laughed so hard that Monica came over to make sure he was all right.
After landing, Skylar and I spoke briefly with an airline representative.
We explained what had happened, and both acknowledged our parts in it.
A few other passengers confirmed that Skylar had repeatedly ignored the requests to move her hair.
The representative recorded our statements and reminded us that disagreements should always be brought to the crew.
I couldn’t argue with that.
By the time everything was finished, I was nearly forty minutes late meeting Kate.
She was waiting outside baggage claim with a large sign that read, “WELCOME, GRANDMA HELEN!”
When she saw me, she rushed over and hugged me.
“Grandma! What took so long? I was starting to worry!”
“Oh, sweetheart, you wouldn’t believe the flight I had.”
She stepped back.
“Why? What happened?”
Before I could answer, my phone buzzed.
It was a message from my oldest son.
Mom, please tell me that isn’t you in the airplane video.
I stared at the screen.
Apparently, someone had recorded part of the incident and posted it online.
Kate took one look at the video.
Her mouth fell open.
“GRANDMA!”
I sighed.
“Yes, dear. That’s me.”
She watched another few seconds, then covered her face.
“You put slime in somebody’s hair?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Kate stared at me in disbelief.
Then she began laughing so hard that she had to lean against her suitcase.
“Grandma, you’re seventy-three!”
“I’m aware of that, thank you.”
She wiped her eyes.
“Please tell me you didn’t get arrested.”
“No, but I did receive a rather serious lecture from a flight attendant.”
Kate hugged me again.
“I can’t believe you.”
“Neither can I, to be honest.”
As we headed toward the parking garage, I noticed Skylar standing near the baggage carousel, struggling to gather her bags.
She looked up and recognized me.
For a moment, we simply stared at each other.
Then she smiled.
“Bye, Helen. Have a good time with your granddaughter.”
“You too, Skylar. And good luck with your interview.”
She touched the damp ends of her hair.
“Thanks. I’m going straight to my hotel to wash this.”
“I think that’s an excellent idea.”
She laughed and rolled her suitcase toward the exit.
The next afternoon, I sat in a crowded auditorium watching Kate receive her nursing diploma.
When her name was announced, I stood and cheered louder than anyone around me.
Kate spotted me from the stage and waved.
For a few wonderful minutes, I forgot about the airplane, the video, and the embarrassing conversation I’d had with the airline representative.
After the ceremony, we took pictures outside with the whole family.
My son asked whether I was planning to become famous on the internet.
I told him I hoped not.
Kate wrapped her arms around my shoulders and kissed my cheek.
“I’m glad you made it, Grandma.”
“So am I, sweetheart.”
As we walked toward the car, she suddenly remembered something.
“Hey, didn’t you say you bought Danny a present at the airport?”
I stopped.
The blue glitter slime.
I’d completely forgotten about it.
I reached into my purse and pulled out the little container, now almost empty.
Kate stared at it.
Then she looked at me.
“Grandma, please tell me that wasn’t his present.”
I gave her an apologetic smile.
“I’m afraid your brother’s gift had a rather unfortunate encounter with a woman’s hair.”
Kate shook her head, laughing.
“Poor Danny.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll buy him another one.”
She took my arm as we continued walking.
“Maybe get him something that doesn’t stick to people.”
I considered that for a moment.
“Yes, dear. I think that’s probably wise.”
And when we stopped for ice cream on the way home, I let Danny choose any toy he wanted from the store next door.
He picked a little remote-controlled car.
I was so relieved that I bought it without even looking at the price.