One damp sock brushed my hair three hours into the flight. The barefoot man behind me used my headrest as a drying rack, then rehung both socks after the attendant warned him. I was ready to lose my mind. Then the snack cart stopped beside me, and one harmless item gave me a wonderfully wicked idea.
Three hours into a packed flight, something damp brushed the top of my hair.
I reached up automatically.
At first, I thought somebody's blanket had slipped over my seat.
Then I smelled it.
Something damp brushed the top of my hair.
Imagine a gym locker that had been locked since Thanksgiving.
Now imagine somebody warming it in a microwave.
I slowly turned my head.
Two socks hung over the top of my seat.
They had probably been white once.
Two socks hung over the top of my seat.
The soles were gray-brown, the heels were nearly black, and the fabric around the toes looked suspiciously damp.
