Roughly forty minutes later, he woke, stretched, and took off his headphones. Then he stood to use the restroom, apparently deciding shoes were unnecessary.
The oversized plastic jewels caught the cabin lights with every step he took down the aisle. Another passenger noticed and burst out laughing, someone farther back began giggling, and soon several rows of people were watching the man’s feet. Even a passing flight attendant struggled to keep her expression professional.
He scowled at the attention: “What?”
Nobody answered. He looked down and turned red, wheeling around to face me: “What the hell did you do?!”
I greeted him with my sweetest smile: “Oh, you noticed! I thought your feet might enjoy some decoration while they were breathing.”
“You humiliated me!”
“I asked you to move your foot three times. You refused.”
“And you were incredibly rude about it.”
“I want to speak to whoever’s in charge here!”
A flight attendant came over to find out what was happening: “Sir, what’s the problem?”
“Look at my feet! This woman did this while I was sleeping!”
She looked at his decorated feet: “Well, sir, I suggest you put your shoes on. And please keep your feet within your own seating area.”
“That’s not the point!”
He bent down and started yanking at the rings. The purple one slipped off easily, but the pink one remained stubbornly in place. Diane offered him a napkin: “Here. This might help you get a better grip.”
“I don’t need your help!”
He nearly fell before the ring came loose. A passenger behind us let out a snort: “Oh, for heaven’s sake!”
He stuffed the ring into his pocket and stomped toward the restroom, still displaying those unmistakable pink toenails. Diane bent toward me, thoroughly amused: “I think he’s going to remember you.”
I gave a quiet laugh: “Oh, I’m counting on it.”
He had no idea I recognized him, and I certainly had no intention of revealing that while we were still on the plane. And if he believed a surprise pedicure would be his worst experience that week, he had another unpleasant surprise coming.
THE RETURN HOME
By the time I arrived home, exhaustion was catching up with me: “Mommy!”
Megan sprinted along the hallway and launched herself into my arms: “Did you miss me?”
“Yes! Did you bring me something?”
I laughed: “Well, somebody has their priorities straight.”
I unpacked the Barbie polish set and the plastic rings I hadn’t used. Megan gasped at the sight: “Oh my gosh! Mom, they’re beautiful!”
She examined the rings, then noticed the open bottles: “Wait. Why are some of these bottles open?”
“Funny story, sweetheart. I had to borrow a little polish on the airplane.”
“For what?”
I sat beside her and recounted the incident. By the time I described the absurdly large rings, Megan was almost rolling across the floor with laughter: “Mom! You gave a grown man a Barbie makeover?”
“Only his feet.”
“Did he like it?”
“Not particularly.”
“That’s amazing!”
She dissolved into another fit of giggles: “What color did you use?”
“Almost every shade. His big toe was hot pink, and I gave the others a lovely assortment.”
“Mom! That’s amazing!”
She selected the brightest bottle and immediately began painting her own toenails. I reminded her about our schedule: “Careful, sweetheart. We have an early morning tomorrow.”
“Why? Do you have to work?”
“I have a very important meeting.”
“With who?”
“Some people I’ve never worked with before.”
Megan paused to inspect her freshly painted toe: “Are you nervous, Mom?”
“A little. I’m meeting some people I’ve never worked with before.”
“You’ll be fine. You’re really good at talking to people.”
“That’s sweet of you.”
She held up her polish bottle with a knowing expression: “And if anyone’s mean, you know what to do.”
I couldn’t help laughing: “I don’t think that’s appropriate office behavior.”
“Well, it worked on the airplane!”
I couldn’t argue. After finishing her nails, I tucked her into bed and kissed her forehead: “Goodnight, my little troublemaker.”
“Goodnight, Mommy. Good luck tomorrow!”
I turned out the light, smiling. Tomorrow would be interesting.
