Thirty-five thousand feet above the ground, Brittany stood screaming in the aisle, one hand stuck to her $800 hair extensions and the other pointing straight at me. Every passenger was staring. Two hours earlier, I’d met the twenty-eight-year-old blonde at duty-free, where her knee-length hair, expensive perfume, and livestream had already tested everyone’s patience. By pure luck—or punishment—she ended up sitting directly in front of me on the flight.

For the next hour, Brittany repeatedly threw her hair over the seat, covering my tray, brushing my face, landing in my lunch, and eventually dipping straight into my wine. Even after the flight attendant warned her, she laughed and did it again while entertaining her online audience. Finally, I’d had enough. I dropped a hundred-dollar bill near her feet. As expected, Brittany bent forward to grab it, leaving twenty inches of her precious extensions spread across my tray. I quietly opened the present meant for my granddaughter.

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