Last night, my husband Alton and I were on a flight home after spending a week with his parents. I couldn’t wait to be back in my own bed and shower. “I’ve missed our shower the most,” Alton said as we boarded. “Mom and dad’s place is nice, but our water pressure beats theirs.” We settled in, but soon I noticed a woman behind us had her bare feet resting on Alton’s seat.

She was kicking it lightly while chatting loudly, completely ignoring how rude she was being. Alton politely asked her to take her feet down, but she just laughed and ignored him. After the safety demo, she put her feet back up. Alton asked again, firmer this time, but she rolled her eyes and continued.

I suggested he get a flight attendant, which he did. The attendant spoke to the woman, who reluctantly removed her feet only to put them back up once the attendant left. That was it. When the drink cart came around, I poured half my water bottle onto the woman’s bag wedged between seats. Then, I poured Alton’s gin and tonic right onto her feet. She screamed and pulled her feet back, glaring at me. I apologized sweetly, blaming turbulence.

After that, she kept her feet off Alton’s seat and even apologized when she accidentally kicked it during the meal. She shot me dirty looks, but I just smiled. At landing, she discovered her wet bag and gave me a furious glare. I smiled back quietly. Sometimes, a little petty revenge is exactly what’s needed to make a point—and it felt good.