About thirty minutes later, I had almost relaxed—until—bam!—her seat crashed back again, pinning my knees. “Seriously?” I muttered, but she didn’t budge. 
Diplomacy had clearly failed.
It was time for a little revenge.
Slowly and innocently, I lowered the tray, took a freshly served plastic cup of tomato juice, and placed it carefully on the edge of the table right under her seat. We waited.
Five silent minutes passed. Then she shifted—and splat!
The juice spilled onto her white bag and a bit onto her sweater.
She jumped up, turning around. “What is this?!”
“Oh!” I widened my eyes innocently. “Sorry!
You moved so suddenly… the tray is small and tricky.”
Fuming, she waved her hands and called:
“Flight attendant!
They’ve made a mess of me!”
The stewardess arrived. “What occured?”
“I was just sitting and drinking, and the seat in front of me… well, it moved back and…” I pointed.
“Physics, I guess.”
The attendant understood perfectly but kept a straight face. “Here are some napkins.
Please make sure your seat stays upright.”
The woman silently cleaned her bag, and after that, the chair stayed upright for the remainder of the flight.
