A young woman mocked my age at the airport, then spent our entire flight throwing her long hair into my face and food. She thought a 73-year-old woman couldn’t fight back. Good thing I’d made one very unusual purchase at duty-free.

thing back over her seat like laundry on a line.

It landed on my tray table, down my armrest and, one strand at a time, across my forehead.

“Excuse me. Would you mind moving your hair?”

“Not now. I’m live.”

“I’m sure your viewers are impressed. I’d be more impressed if it stayed on your side.”

“Oh my God. It’s hair.”

Harold leaned in. “Eight hundred dollars. I paid less for my first car.”

“Did it come with a steering wheel?”

“Eventually.”

I laughed. It helped, for a while.

But