As the flight attendants rolled the dinner cart down the aisle, I seized another opportunity. I made a point of ordering the messiest meal available—spaghetti in tomato sauce. As I ate, I made sure to create a little turbulence of my own by occasionally jostling my tray table, causing just enough spillover to send a tiny splash of sauce towards her footrest area.

Finally, the dessert came—chocolate pudding. I opened the container with a bit of extra vigor, and wouldn’t you know it, a dollop flew back towards her direction. It was accidental, of course, but I didn’t mind one bit. The sight of her recoiling her feet, now wary of further mess, was a small victory.

By the time the plane began its descent, her feet were firmly planted on her own floor space. She had learned the unwritten rule of airline etiquette: respect the space of others, lest you face minor inconveniences that sour your journey.