Pretzel Power
I’m 6′ tall, with most of the length in my legs, and I fly a lot. Almost every plane I get in, my knees are already touching the seat in front of me. If the person in front of me reclines, the only way for me to sit is to straighten out my legs and shoot them underneath the seat in front of me.
I was probably 16 (still 6′) and the guy in front of me couldn’t have been more than 24. He reclines and his seat practically hits me in the chest. I could smell his hair, he was so close. We asked him to put the seat up a bit, but he declined.
The seat was clearly broken, and reclined a good 6 inches past the other seats in his row, so we called over the flight attendant.
She also saw the problem and asked him to put his seat up, and told him it was broken. HE SAID NO, AND SHE SAID THERE WAS NOTHING ELSE SHE COULD DO!
Great, thanks. Luckily my mom is the “pack everything you may need on a plane” mom, so I get an idea. I start eating pretzels with my mouth wide open and get crumbs all over his head and shoulders. He doesn’t notice until the crumbs are bouncing off his shoulder crumbs and into his lap. It was gross.
He turns around with a look of disgust and asks me to stop. I got great pleasure in tell him no and showing him the rest of the bag of pretzels I had to eat over him. He put the seat up. Imalawyerkid