For hours, the woman beside me complained about my weight, my eating, and even my breathing. When I finally changed seats, I left her a little surprise that soon had the entire cabin wide awake.
At 61, I’d learned two important things: life is too short to worry about other people’s opinions, and you’re never too old for a good prank.
I was flying overnight.
I’ve lived with type 2 diabetes for years, and yes, I’m overweight. I’ve made peace with my body, although I’d be lying if I said the occasional nasty remark didn’t sting.
That October, I was flying overnight to visit my daughter and two grandchildren for Halloween.
My granddaughter, eight, wanted to be a witch, while her ten-year-old brother had requested a vampire costume.
I’d spent weeks sewing both outfits, adding enough dramatic details to make a Hollywood costume designer jealous.
I’ve made peace.
My suitcase was also stuffed with candy and decorations.
And inside my carry-on, wrapped carefully in a blanket, was a very special surprise for my grandson, who adored scary movies and Halloween pranks.
My daughter always said, “Mom, sometimes I think I’ve got three children instead of two.”
I boarded the plane.
I considered that a compliment.
I boarded the plane in excellent spirits and settled into my usual aisle seat. It made getting up easier, and I preferred having a little freedom to move without disturbing anyone.
Unfortunately, the woman sitting by the window seemed determined to ruin my good mood before we’d even taken off.
I smiled politely.
My seatmate looked about 40. She was skinny, impeccably dressed, and wore an expensive watch.
Her perfume was so strong I wondered whether she’d spilled the entire bottle on herself.
The moment I sat down, she looked me up and down, then sighed.
I smiled politely. She didn’t smile back.
“Wonderful.”
Before we’d even taken off, a baby started fussing a few rows behind us.
“Wonderful. Six hours of listening to somebody else’s child.”
Then a man across the aisle opened a bag of chips.
“Does nobody understand basic manners anymore?” she muttered.
“The battery’s dead!”
Finally, she put on a pair of expensive-looking headphones.
I thought we might have some peace.
Unfortunately, five minutes later, she ripped them off.
“You’ve got to be kidding me! The battery’s dead!”
“Maybe the flight attendant could help you charge them?” I suggested.
She tapped my arm.
“I don’t need your advice.”
I returned to my magazine. A minute later, she tapped my arm.
“Could you stop making that noise?”
“What noise?”
“That awful breathing. It’s like sitting next to a broken vacuum cleaner.”
She glared.
I blinked.
“Well, I could try holding my breath, but I don’t think I’d make it to landing.”
She glared at me. Apparently, humor wasn’t among her interests.
Trying to lighten the mood, I mentioned that I was visiting my grandchildren for Halloween.
She grimaced.
“I hate Halloween.”
“Ugh. I hate Halloween. Those disgusting decorations, creepy dolls, horrible masks. I can’t even watch horror movies without having nightmares.”
“My grandson loves all that stuff.”
“I don’t understand why people enjoy frightening each other. It’s sick.”
I pictured my grandson hearing that. He’d probably start planning a dozen pranks before she finished speaking.
Not yet.
But I simply smiled and returned to my magazine.
I had no intention of frightening anyone.
At least, not yet.
About twenty minutes into the flight, I took a snack bar from my purse. I needed to keep my blood sugar stable, and my doctor had specifically advised me not to skip snacks.
“I need it.”
My neighbor immediately noticed.
“You’re eating that?”
“I need it,” I replied.
“Of course. Have you ever thought that maybe you should eat less? You’re already taking up part of my seat!”
I stared at her.
She laughed.
“Excuse me? I’m sitting in my own seat. I’m not taking up yours.”
She laughed.
“Have you looked at yourself in the mirror? Your huge leg is spilling into my seat.”
I glanced down. Both my legs were firmly within my seat, but I pressed them together anyway.
Ten minutes later, she announced that she needed the bathroom.
My cheeks burned.
I unbuckled my seat belt and stood to let her pass.
“Why does it take you so long to get up?” she snapped. “People should know their size and think about the other passengers around them.”
My cheeks burned.
Normally, I would’ve had a comeback ready. But after so many insults, I couldn’t find a single word.
When she returned, she stopped a passing flight attendant.
“Are you blind?”
“Excuse me! Aren’t people like her supposed to buy two tickets? I’m practically being crushed!”
The attendant examined our seats.
“Ma’am, she’s sitting entirely within her own space.”
“Are you blind? Look at her!”
I opened my mouth, but the attendant gently interrupted.
I hesitated.
“There’s another available seat farther back. Would you prefer to move?”
I hesitated.
I’d paid for this aisle seat, and I hated rewarding such awful behavior.
But five more hours beside this woman sounded unbearable.
“All right,” I sighed.
I wasn’t embarrassed.
My neighbor smiled triumphantly.
Then I reached for my carry-on and remembered my grandson’s special Halloween present.
Suddenly, I wasn’t embarrassed anymore.
In fact, I had to bite my lip to keep from smiling. An absolutely wicked idea had just occurred to me.
I opened my carry-on and carefully unwrapped my grandson’s present.
Absolutely hideous.
It was a doll about the size of a small child, with a cracked, porcelain-looking face, tangled black hair, and a crooked smile that revealed two rows of yellowish teeth.
Its tiny hands had unnaturally long fingers, and its Victorian dress looked as though someone had dragged it through a cemetery.
Absolutely hideous.
My grandson was going to adore it.
It was a doll.
The doll had come with a remote control, which I discreetly slipped into my cardigan pocket.
Then I settled my new friend into my old seat and tucked my travel blanket around her.
Only a few strands of black hair stuck out.
My neighbor barely noticed. She was too busy scrolling through her phone, probably celebrating her victory.
I looked up.
I collected my belongings and walked toward my new seat.
I’d barely sat down when a shriek echoed through the cabin.
“WHAT IS THAT?!”
I looked up.
The woman had pulled away the blanket and was staring directly into the doll’s horrible face.
I leaned forward.
“AAAAAH!”
Several passengers turned around. I leaned forward.
“Oh, you found my grandson’s present!”
“YOUR WHAT?!”
“It’s a Halloween gift,” I explained cheerfully. “My grandson loves scary things. Isn’t she precious?”
“PRECIOUS?! THAT THING LOOKS POSSESSED!”
“Isn’t she precious?”
I pressed a hand to my chest.
“Well, that’s not a very nice thing to say about a lady.”
Someone across the aisle snorted.
“GET IT AWAY FROM ME!” the woman screamed, waving for the flight attendant.
The attendant hurried over.
“Is this yours?”
“What’s the problem, ma’am?”
“THAT!” The woman pointed at the doll. “I want that disgusting thing removed immediately!”
The attendant looked at the doll, then at me.
“Is this yours?”
“Yes, and I’m happy to secure her properly.”
I returned briefly.
The attendant explained that the toy itself wasn’t prohibited, provided it was safely secured.
With her permission, I returned briefly to buckle the doll into the seat.
“I can’t sit next to that horrible thing!” my neighbor protested.
“Ma’am,” the attendant replied patiently, “you requested that your previous seatmate move. She accommodated you.”
My neighbor protested.
I smiled.
“Don’t worry. She’s much smaller than I am. You should have plenty of room now.”
Several passengers burst out laughing.
The woman’s face turned scarlet.
I returned to my new seat, feeling rather pleased with myself.
I took the remote.
Then my fingers brushed against the remote in my pocket.
And I remembered that my grandson’s new friend had a few more tricks up her sleeve.
Back in my new seat, I took the remote from my cardigan pocket and examined it.
There were three little buttons, each marked with a different symbol. I remembered the shop assistant demonstrating them when I’d bought the doll.
The woman froze.
I pressed the first one.
“Khhhhhh… hhhhhh… khhhhh…”
The woman froze. Slowly, she turned toward the doll.
Its crooked smile hadn’t changed.
“Hhhhh… khhhh… haaaaa…”
“What was that?!”
The attendant approached.
I quickly switched off the sound.
The woman waved frantically at the flight attendant.
“That thing is breathing!”
The attendant approached and glanced at the motionless doll.
“Ma’am, it’s a toy.”
“What was that?!”
“I know it’s a toy! But it’s making noises!”
The attendant leaned closer and listened.
Nothing.
“Perhaps you heard something from another passenger. Please try to keep your voice down. People are resting.”
As soon as she walked away, I waited another minute and pressed the button again.
Nothing.
“Khhhhhh… hhhhh…”
“Stop it!”
The woman grabbed both armrests.
A man across the aisle lowered his book.
I released the button.
“Excuse me, are you talking to the doll?”
“It’s making sounds!”
He tilted his head to listen.
I released the button.
“Well,” he said, “right now, you’re making considerably more noise than it is.”
She twisted around.
The woman shot him a murderous glare.
I quickly raised my magazine to hide my grin.
Suddenly, she twisted around and spotted me.
“You! You’re doing this!”
I lowered my magazine.
“Me? I’m sitting all the way back here.”
I lowered my magazine.
“You left that horrible thing beside me on purpose!”
“Well, you did say you were uncomfortable sitting next to me.”
“That doesn’t mean I want to sit next to a monster!”
I gave her my sweetest grandmotherly smile.
“I thought you wanted a smaller seatmate. I even found you one who doesn’t need snacks.”
“You were uncomfortable.”
The man across the aisle burst out laughing. The woman looked ready to explode.
And I hadn’t even touched the other two buttons yet.
Eventually, the commotion died down, and the flight attendant made an announcement.
“Ladies and gentlemen, as this is an overnight flight, we’ll be dimming the cabin lights shortly. Please lower your window shades so everyone can get some rest.”
The commotion died down.
My former seatmate reluctantly pulled down her shade.
The lights dimmed, and one by one, passengers switched off their reading lamps. Blankets came out, seats reclined, and the cabin finally grew quiet.
Even my charming former neighbor stopped complaining.
From my new seat, I could just make out the doll sitting beside her, perfectly motionless.
I’d tested it at home.
Then I remembered the second button.
I’d tested it at home before packing the doll. Pressing it made those horrible little eyes glow bright red, as though something evil had awakened inside.
My grandson was going to go absolutely wild over that feature.
I touched the remote in my pocket.
Perhaps I’d had enough fun.
I pressed the button.
Then I remembered being told that even my breathing was unbearable.
I pressed the button.
Two blood-red eyes suddenly lit up in the darkness.
The woman turned her head.
For two glorious seconds, she didn’t make a sound.
The woman turned.
Then she unleashed a scream so loud I thought the pilot might hear it through the cockpit door.
“It’s looking at me!”
The entire cabin erupted.
A sleeping passenger jolted upright, knocking his pillow onto the floor. Someone dropped their phone, while another man struggled to untangle himself from his blanket.
“Its eyes!”
“What’s happening? Are we landing?!” someone shouted.
Meanwhile, my former seatmate had pressed herself against the window, pointing a trembling finger at the doll.
“Its eyes! They were red! I saw them!”
Naturally, I’d already released the button.
The flight attendant hurried over and switched on the overhead lights.
“Bright red!”
There sat my grandson’s doll, looking as innocent as a creature with cracked skin and rotten-looking teeth possibly could.
“Ma’am, what’s going on now?” the attendant asked.
“That thing’s eyes were glowing! Bright red! Like something from a horror movie!”
The attendant leaned closer to inspect it.
Several passengers laughed.
The doll didn’t move.
“I’m not seeing anything unusual.”
“Because it stopped! I’m telling you, it was looking directly at me!”
From somewhere across the aisle, a man muttered, “Maybe it doesn’t like your perfume.”
Several passengers laughed.
I looked up innocently.
I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I nearly hurt myself.
Then the woman suddenly twisted around and pointed straight at me.
“She’s controlling it! I know she is!”
I looked up innocently.
I raised my eyebrows.
“Controlling what?”
“The doll! She’s making it do things!”
I raised my eyebrows.
“I’ve been sitting here quietly. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“Get that thing out of here!” she demanded, turning back to the attendant. “I’m not spending another minute beside it!”
The attendant looked toward me.
“Ma’am, if your doll has electronic features, could you please make sure they’re switched off? We need to let everyone rest.”
“Of course,” I replied sweetly. “Wouldn’t dream of disturbing anyone.”
The woman gave an outraged gasp.
The attendant looked toward me.
I tucked the remote deeper into my pocket.
But judging by the way she was glaring at the doll, my former neighbor wasn’t ready to let the matter go.
“I want that doll confiscated!” the woman demanded. “Put it somewhere I can’t see it!”
The flight attendant remained remarkably patient.
“That’s ridiculous!”
“Ma’am, we can’t confiscate a permitted toy simply because you dislike its appearance. Its electronic features will remain switched off.”
“That’s ridiculous! She’s been tormenting me!”
The attendant folded her hands.
“Ma’am, this passenger gave up her seat because you said you were uncomfortable. Since then, we’ve received several complaints about your shouting.”
“That lady hasn’t bothered anyone.”
The woman stared at her.
“So you’re taking her side?!”
“I’m trying to make sure everyone can enjoy the rest of their flight.”
A man sitting behind her leaned forward.
“That lady hasn’t bothered anyone since she moved. You’re the one waking everybody up.”
The woman stared at her.
Another passenger chuckled.
“At least the doll isn’t complaining about how much space it needs!”
Laughter rippled through the surrounding rows.
The woman looked around, apparently expecting someone to defend her.
“Then I’m moving!”
Nobody did.
“Fine!” she snapped. “Then I’m moving!”
The attendant checked for another available seat and directed her farther down the cabin.
My former neighbor snatched up her handbag and phone, muttering something about being trapped on an airplane full of lunatics.
“You’re a horrible woman.”
As she passed my row, she stopped and leaned toward me.
“You’re a horrible woman,” she hissed.
I gave her my warmest grandmotherly smile.
“And you have a wonderful Halloween.”
She marched away without another word.
She passed my row.
I watched her disappear behind the curtain separating the cabin sections.
Then I looked toward my old seat.
My little porcelain-faced friend was still sitting there, smiling.
For once, I couldn’t have agreed with her expression more.
Once the woman was gone, I caught the flight attendant’s attention.
“Of course, ma’am.”
“Would it be possible for me to return to my original seat?”
“Of course, ma’am. Just please keep the doll’s electronic features switched off and put it away.”
“Absolutely. She’s caused enough excitement for one night.”
I retrieved my little monster, tucked her safely into my carry-on, and settled back into my aisle seat.
I grinned.
For the first time since boarding, I could actually relax.
A few minutes later, the attendant brought me some water. She glanced at the tangled black hair sticking out of my bag.
“Your grandson must have quite a sense of humor.”
I grinned.
She laughed.
“Oh, he gets that from me.”
She laughed and continued down the aisle.
I leaned back, imagining my grandchildren’s faces when they saw their costumes and presents. I could practically feel their little arms wrapping around me.
Then I patted my carry-on affectionately.
I’d bought that doll to give my grandson the scare of his life. Turns out, it had already given me the best flight of mine.
