The short flight from Lisbon to Geneva was supposed to be an easy one. I had taken the window seat in the middle rows, tucked my bag neatly under the seat in front of me, and prepared to enjoy a quiet ninety minutes in the air. A book waited in my lap, and for once, I felt relaxed.

In front of me sat a large woman in a vividly striped cardigan—emerald, scarlet, gold, the kind of garment you notice immediately. She hadn’t acknowledged anyone around her when she boarded, just shuffled down the aisle with a purse and plopped into her seat. I gave her no further thought—until the seatbelt sign had barely gone off.

With a sudden thud and a jolt, her seat flew backward. My knees, already pressed against the seat in the tight economy space, were crushed sharply.

“Ah!” I exclaimed involuntarily, then leaned forward.
“Excuse me,” I said in my most polite voice. “Would you mind lifting your seat a little? I’m really squeezed here.”

She didn’t even glance at me.
“It’s more comfortable like this,” she said flatly.

I tried to shift, pushing my legs sideways, but the space was gone. The message was clear: she had no intention of compromising.

I pressed the call button, feeling slightly guilty but unwilling to sit in pain for the whole flight. A tall flight attendant, her badge reading Marta, arrived with a professional smile.

“What seems to be the problem?”

“The passenger in front of me has reclined so far I can’t move my legs at all,” I explained.

Marta bent slightly, addressing the woman in the cardigan.
“Madam, would you mind raising your seat just a little to give the gentleman some space?”

The woman spun around with an expression of sheer outrage, as though I’d accused her of a crime.
“My back is sore. I paid for this seat. I’ll sit as I wish.”

Marta’s jaw tightened, though her tone stayed calm.
“Please consider your neighbor’s comfort. A slight adjustment is all we ask.”

With a dramatic sigh, the woman shoved the lever, raising the seat just a few centimeters.
“There. Happy?”

I forced a smile. “Well, my knees haven’t healed, but it’s definitely better. Thank you.”

She muttered something under her breath. Marta gave me the smallest, conspiratorial nod before moving along.

For the next half hour, the compromise held. I opened my book and tried to lose myself in the story, even dozed a little. Then, with no warning—bam!—the seat slammed backward again, pinning me as tightly as before.

I let out a low groan. She didn’t move. Clearly, courtesy had failed.

I sat still for a moment, breathing evenly, then glanced at the tray table in front of me. The flight attendants had just come by with drinks, and a small plastic cup of tomato juice rested on my tray. The idea arrived fully formed, and I couldn’t resist.

Carefully, deliberately, I slid the cup to the very edge of the table, just beneath the back of her seat. I sat back, hands folded, eyes innocent.

Minutes ticked by. The hum of the engine was steady, passengers murmured, and the cup of juice waited like a silent trap. Then—movement. She shifted, pushing her seat back further, and with a quick wobble, the cup tipped.

The red liquid splashed across her pale handbag and dotted the hem of her cardigan.

She bolted upright with a shriek.
“What is this?!” She twisted around, glaring at me.

I widened my eyes. “Oh no! I’m so sorry. You leaned back so suddenly, and the tray is tiny—I couldn’t stop it.”

Her face reddened, mouth opening and closing. “Flight attendant!” she barked, waving her arms.

Marta returned promptly. “What happened here?”

The woman gestured wildly. “He spilled juice all over me!”

I held up my empty hands. “I was just sitting, drinking quietly. The seat moved back, and well, the cup tipped. Physics, I suppose.”

For a split second, Marta’s lips twitched, as though she was suppressing a smile. Then she nodded briskly.
“I see. Here are some napkins, madam. And perhaps it’s best if you keep your seat upright for the remainder of the flight, to avoid further accidents.”

The woman sputtered but accepted the stack of tissues. She dabbed at her bag in silence, muttering under her breath.

From that moment until we landed, her seat remained perfectly vertical.

I leaned back as much as I could in my narrow space, opened my book again, and let the minutes drift past. Outside, the clouds slid beneath us, soft and harmless, while inside the cabin, justice had been quietly, if messily, served.