All I wanted was a productive flight home — headphones in, thesis open, coffee in hand. But a loud slam from the seat in front sent my iced coffee flying and shattered my laptop screen in one violent motion. My thesis, my momentum — gone in seconds. The guy in 22B? Didn’t care. Not even a glance back.
I called out, furious. “You just broke my laptop!” His smug reply? “Maybe don’t bring work if you can’t handle turbulence.” Except — there was no turbulence. Just him slamming his seat like a toddler in a tantrum. I flagged the flight attendant. She gave me a look that said, good luck with that.
When I explained, she politely told me it was a “personal matter.” Translation: I was on my own. My broken MacBook wasn’t their problem. And the man? He laughed in my face and reclined even farther — as if breaking my laptop was an inconvenience to him.
I sat there fuming, vision blurry with rage. Then, a woman beside me leaned over and whispered, “I saw everything. There was no turbulence.” Her name was Elaine — and as it turns out, she wasn’t just a witness. She was a court reporter. And she was about to become my partner in sweet, strategic revenge…