A young woman with a sketchbook arrived to take the window seat.
We both stood to let her through.
I liked that she seemed as interested in passing the time quietly as I was.
“I’m Maya,” she said as she settled in.
“Linda.”
Maya gave a nod and opened her sketchbook. I liked that she seemed as interested in passing the time quietly as I was.
Once we were airborne, I opened my book. The first chapter was exactly what I’d hoped for: a family with worse problems than mine.
A drink cart came by. I ordered ginger ale. Maya asked for water.
The man requested coffee, then frowned at the cup.
“They used to know how to serve people.”
“Is this all you have?”
The attendant, whose name tag read Daniel, nodded. “I can bring you another when we finish this section.”
“I asked for a full cup.”
“It’s hot, sir. We leave some room at the top.”
The man sighed but took it.
When he complained about the reclined seat in front of him, Maya caught my eye over her sketchbook.
After Daniel moved on, the man turned to me.
“They used to know how to serve people.”
I returned to my book.
When he complained about the reclined seat in front of him, Maya caught my eye over her sketchbook. Neither of us said anything.
About an hour into the flight, the man beside me slipped off his shoes.
He stretched his legs and checked his watch.
I noticed only because one shoe bumped my heel.
“Sorry,” he said, not sounding particularly sorry.
“No problem.”
People take their shoes off on planes. I wouldn’t, but I wasn’t going to pick a fight over it.
He stretched his legs and checked his watch.
Then he removed his socks.
The first sign of trouble was a tiny metallic click.
The man folded each sock and pushed it into his shoes as if he were getting comfortable in his living room.
I looked toward the aisle and pretended I hadn’t noticed.
The first sign of trouble was a tiny metallic click.
I assumed he’d opened a pen.
A second click followed.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him lift his left foot onto his opposite knee.
He was holding nail clippers.
Something silver glinted in his hand.
I turned my head.
He was holding nail clippers.
For a few seconds, my brain refused to make sense of the scene. Surely he’d noticed how close we were sitting. Surely he was checking a broken nail and would put the clippers away.
Click.
“Could you please wait until we land to do that?”
Something pale landed on the armrest between us.
I couldn’t tell whether the clipping had touched my sleeve. I shifted away from the armrest, conscious of how little room I had.
I closed my book with one finger holding my place.
“Excuse me,” I said. “Could you please wait until we land to do that?”
He glanced at my face and then back at his foot.
“Relax. They’re just toenails.”
Maya looked up from her sketchbook, glanced at the armrest, and raised her eyebrows at me.
“I understand, but we’re sitting right next to each other.”
“Then don’t look.”
He positioned the clippers again.
Click.
Maya looked up from her sketchbook, glanced at the armrest, and raised her eyebrows at me.
A clipping dropped beside my shoe, and I instinctively pulled my foot back.
Her expression changed from surprise to disbelief. She glanced down at her own shoes, then tucked her legs closer to the window without a word.
A clipping dropped beside my shoe, and I instinctively pulled my foot back.
“Please stop,” I said. “They’re landing on my side.”
He brushed a few pieces off his trousers.
“You don’t own the row.”
Every time his hand moved, I wondered where the next clipping would land.
I stared at him, waiting for some sign that he understood how ridiculous this was. Instead, he adjusted the clippers around another toenail.
I tried returning to my book, but I couldn’t concentrate.
My eyes kept going to the edge of the armrest. Every time his hand moved, I wondered where the next clipping would land.
My usual response to an unpleasant stranger is to disappear into myself. Rachel’s father once called it my greatest talent. I used to think that was a compliment.
For a moment, I considered asking to switch seats when an attendant passed.
I had spent years mistaking quiet for kindness. It had become automatic to swallow a complaint, even when someone else was causing the trouble.
For a moment, I considered asking to switch seats when an attendant passed. I could take my book somewhere else and forget the man existed.
I’d asked him twice. He knew exactly what he was doing.
I reached up and pressed the flight attendant call button.
“You’re calling someone over this?”
The little light came on overhead. I watched it for a second, grateful that I’d done something ordinary instead of arguing with him again.
The man glanced at the illuminated button.
“You’re calling someone over this?”
“I’ve asked you to stop.”
“Unbelievable,” he muttered.
Then he lifted his foot again.
If he put them away before Daniel arrived, it might become my word against his.
Click.
I looked at the clippers still in his hand. If he put them away before Daniel arrived, it might become my word against his.
The couple across the aisle might have been close enough to see his bare foot and the clippers. I hoped they would tell Daniel that much.
I set my book in the seat pocket.
“Sir,” I said, “I’m going to stand up.”
“Would you mind telling the flight attendant what you saw?”
“Good for you.”
I unbuckled, stepped into the aisle, and turned toward the couple sitting across from us.
My legs felt unsteady, which annoyed me. It was a small request, and yet I was standing in a crowded aisle asking strangers to notice it.
“Excuse me,” I said. “Would you mind telling the flight attendant what you saw? I’ve asked this gentleman to stop dropping toenail clippings around our seats, and he refuses.”
The couple looked from me to the man’s bare foot.
A conversation across the aisle stopped in the middle of a sentence.
The couple looked from me to the man’s bare foot. Two passengers in the row behind us leaned forward.
The man froze with the clippers still in his hand.
“Are you serious?” he demanded.
“I asked you to stop.”
“You are making a public scene over personal grooming?”
“She did,” Maya said.
He lowered his foot.
“You are making a public scene over personal grooming?”
“I’m asking people to witness what happened.”
“You’re humiliating me!”
A few heads lifted over the seatbacks. He’d raised his voice enough to attract the attention he said he didn’t want.
The woman across the aisle covered her mouth.
“I wasn’t the one clipping my toenails beside strangers.”
The woman across the aisle covered her mouth. Her husband stared at the clippers as though he couldn’t believe they were real.
“Sit down,” the man ordered me.
I stayed where I was.
He pulled down his tray table and slapped the clippers onto it.
“I’m not sitting beside you while you’re doing that.”
He pulled down his tray table and slapped the clippers onto it.
“There. Happy?”
Before I could reply, Daniel came down the aisle.
“I asked him to stop clipping his toenails because the pieces were landing around our seats.”
“Is everything okay here?”
The man pointed straight at me.
“Ask her what she just did.”
Daniel looked between us. “Ma’am?”
“That’s not what happened. She’s been harassing me since we boarded.”
“I asked him to stop clipping his toenails because the pieces were landing around our seats. He refused, so I asked nearby passengers to act as witnesses when I complain.”
The man gave a sharp laugh.
“That’s not what happened. She’s been harassing me since we boarded. Now she’s getting other passengers involved because she can’t mind her own business.”
He was sitting there barefoot, with nail clippers on his tray table, yet somehow I was the one being accused.
I turned toward him.
“Harassing you?”
“Exactly. And I want her moved.”
He said it with such certainty that I found myself momentarily speechless. He was sitting there barefoot, with nail clippers on his tray table, yet somehow I was the one being accused.
Part of me wanted to accept whatever seat they offered and be done with it.
Daniel hadn’t seen the argument begin. For one uncomfortable moment, I wondered whether that would matter.
He looked composed, but I couldn’t read his expression. The man’s certainty made my cheeks burn; I didn’t want my conversation with a crew member to sound like an excuse.
Part of me wanted to accept whatever seat they offered and be done with it. I just wanted to reach Rachel, eat cookies in her kitchen, and forget this man existed.
She wasn’t looking at the man anymore; she was looking straight at Daniel.
Daniel looked around the row.
“Did anyone else see what happened?”
“I did,” Maya said.
She had set her sketchbook aside. She wasn’t looking at the man anymore; she was looking straight at Daniel, as though she wanted him to hear every word.
“Linda asked him politely to wait until we landed.”
The man twisted toward her.
“Stay out of this.”
“She’s sitting in my row,” Maya said. “It’s already my business.”
Daniel nodded. “Go ahead.”
“I didn’t hear everything, but I heard him telling her to sit down. She wasn’t threatening him or anything.”
“Linda asked him politely to wait until we landed. He told her they were just toenails and said she shouldn’t look. He kept clipping. Some of it landed on the armrest.”
“She’s exaggerating,” the man said.
“She isn’t,” said the passenger across the aisle.
He leaned forward, still holding an unopened magazine.
The man looked from one passenger to another. For the first time, he seemed to have run out of things to say.
“I didn’t hear everything, but I heard him telling her to sit down. She wasn’t threatening him or anything.”
His wife added, “I saw the clippers in his hand when she stood up.”
The man looked from one passenger to another. For the first time, he seemed to have run out of things to say.
Daniel examined the armrest and the floor near our feet. He took in the exposed toes, the socks tucked under the seat, and the clippers resting on the tray.
“Are you seriously taking their side?”
The clippings were still where they’d fallen. I watched Daniel take in the armrest and the floor, grateful that I hadn’t tried to brush anything away.
“Sir,” he said, “please put your socks and shoes back on and stop using those.”
The man folded his arms.
“Are you seriously taking their side?”
“Ma’am, I can offer you another seat. There’s an empty aisle seat a few rows back, if you’d prefer it.”
“I’m asking you to follow a crew instruction.”
“And what about her? She embarrassed me in front of everyone.”
Daniel glanced at me.
“Ma’am, I can offer you another seat. There’s an empty aisle seat a few rows back, if you’d prefer it.”
Relief washed over me.
“You should have moved her ten minutes ago.”
“That would be lovely. Thank you.”
The man actually smiled.
“Finally,” he said. “You should have moved her ten minutes ago.”
Daniel stopped beside his seat.
“To be clear, sir, I’m offering her another place for her comfort. She hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“I’ll also bring you napkins so you can pick up the visible clippings.”
The smile vanished.
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“You’ll remain in your assigned seat,” Daniel continued. “I’ll also bring you napkins so you can pick up the visible clippings. We’ll arrange for the area to be cleaned after landing.”
The man stared at him.
The woman across the aisle tried to stifle a laugh. Her husband looked down at his magazine.
“You expect me to get on the floor?”
“I’m asking you to clean up what you can reach.”
The woman across the aisle tried to stifle a laugh. Her husband looked down at his magazine.
Daniel returned with the napkins. The man put on his socks and shoes, tucked the clippers into his briefcase, and bent to collect the pieces he could reach.
As I moved away, Maya touched my sleeve.
He picked up the visible scraps one at a time. I looked away, unwilling to spend another minute watching something I’d already asked not to see.
When he straightened up, he kept his eyes on his lap.
I picked up my tote and book.
As I moved away, Maya touched my sleeve.
My new seat was several rows back, beside an older woman who was doing a crossword puzzle.
“I’m glad you said something,” she whispered.
“Me too,” I said.
For once, I hadn’t disappeared.
My new seat was several rows back, beside an older woman who was doing a crossword puzzle.
“Trouble up there?” she asked.
For a moment, I caught myself listening for that metallic click.
“Someone made a poor choice involving nail clippers.”
She looked at me for a moment.
“Well. That’s a new one.”
I laughed for the first time all afternoon.
Then I opened my book and read nearly thirty pages without interruption.
For a moment, I caught myself listening for that metallic click. He was no longer beside me, but it took my nerves a little while to believe it.
Then I opened my book and read nearly thirty pages without interruption.
Rachel met me near baggage claim and hugged me.
“Good. How was the flight?”
“Please tell me you brought the cookies.”
“Two tins.”
“Good. How was the flight?”
“I’ll tell you when we get home,” I said. “But after what I’ve been through, I’m getting the couch.”
