On a flight home with my husband, Alton, we were eager to get back to our own bed after a week with his parents. Everything seemed fine until the woman behind us kicked Alton’s seat repeatedly. After he politely asked her to stop, she laughed and continued.

I suggested Alton call a flight attendant. She politely asked the woman to put her feet down, but moments later, the kicking resumed.

That’s when petty Crystal decided to act.

After the drink cart came by, I poured half of my water onto the woman’s bag. She didn’t notice. Then, I took Alton’s gin and tonic and “accidentally” spilled it over her feet.

“Ew!” she shrieked, pulling her feet back. “Did you spill your drink on me?”

Feigning innocence, I smiled and said, “Oh, sorry! Turbulence.”

The woman muttered angrily to her friend but kept her feet off Alton’s seat for the rest of the flight.

As we landed, I noticed her grabbing her now-wet bag. She shot me a furious glare, but I smiled sweetly. Alton chuckled, squeezing my hand.

“Petty Crystal strikes again,” he teased.

“Sometimes, you just have to make a point,” I said, satisfied.