The pre-flight jitters had finally subsided. He had managed, with some careful planning and a deep breath, to board the plane relatively unnoticed. Securing the two seats he had purchased – the window and the middle – was a small victory. As an obese man, flying was always a source of anxiety. The narrow seats, the judging stares, the constant feeling of being “too much” – it was all incredibly draining. That’s why he always booked two seats when traveling alone, a financial burden he willingly shouldered for the sake of his own comfort and the comfort of those around him. He settled in, carefully lifting the armrest between his two seats. This work trip was important, and he needed to arrive feeling rested and prepared. He closed his eyes, imagining the successful meetings ahead, the satisfaction of a job well done. He was almost lulled into a peaceful state when he heard the unmistakable sound of someone approaching.
His eyes fluttered open, and he saw them: a couple, radiating an air of self-importance. The woman, perfectly coiffed and dressed in designer clothes, surveyed the seating arrangement with a critical eye. The man, equally polished, simply *assumed* the situation. Without a word, he plopped down in the middle seat, effectively occupying the space he had paid for.
“Excuse me,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. “I’m sorry, but I actually paid for both of those seats.”
The man scoffed, a dismissive sound that immediately set his teeth on edge. “Seriously? You paid for *two* seats? It’s EMPTY. RELAX,” he said, his tone dripping with condescension. He remained firmly planted in the seat, completely disregarding the fact that someone had legitimately purchased that space. The woman offered a thin, insincere smile but didn’t intervene.
He tried to reason with them, explaining his situation, his need for the extra space. He tried to explain the discomfort and anxiety that flying often caused him. But the man was having none of it. He started bumping into him deliberately, invading his personal space. “I’M NOT MOVING. DEAL WITH IT,” he snapped, his voice rising.
He could have called the flight attendant. He could have made a scene, demanded his rights. But a different idea sparked in his mind, a slow-burning ember of retribution. He smiled, a wide, unsettling smile that clearly unnerved the man. He reached into his bag and pulled out a can of protein farts spray he had purchased online, for just such an occasion.
With a mischievous glint in his eye, he discreetly sprayed a liberal amount of the foul-smelling concoction under the man’s seat. The effect was immediate. A wave of noxious odor filled the air, a pungent blend of rotten eggs and gym socks. The man recoiled, his face contorting in disgust. The woman gagged, pulling a silk scarf over her nose. Passengers nearby began to cough and wrinkle their noses. “What is that AWFUL smell?!” the man exclaimed. The obese man simply smiled sweetly and replied, “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe someone had some bad airplane food?” The couple, utterly defeated and surrounded by the stench of his silent revenge, had no choice but to request a different seating assignment. As they gathered their belongings and scurried away, he settled back into his two seats, a sense of profound satisfaction washing over him. Sometimes, the best revenge is a silent, and incredibly smelly, one.
