Mr. Johnson boarded his flight to New York City and headed straight for the aisle seat he had carefully chosen.

But when he got there, a blonde woman was already sitting in it.

“Excuse me,” he said, keeping his voice steady. “That’s my seat. I booked the aisle specifically.”

The woman glanced up, completely unbothered.

“I’m blonde, I’m smart, and I’m sitting in this aisle seat until the plane lands in New York City.”

Confused and annoyed, Mr. Johnson checked her ticket—it clearly showed the middle seat.

“Your seat is the middle one,” he pointed out. “I booked the aisle because I’m six-foot-five and need the legroom. You’re maybe five-foot-one. You’ll be perfectly comfortable in the middle.”

But she simply repeated, “I’m blonde, I’m smart, and I’m sitting in this aisle seat until the plane lands in New York City.”

The woman by the window even spoke up.

“You should listen to him. My ex was only six-one, and even he always needed an aisle seat.”

Still, the blonde didn’t budge.

“I’m blonde, I’m smart, and I’m staying here.”

Defeated, Mr. Johnson waved over a flight attendant. After hearing the situation, the attendant leaned down and whispered something in the blonde woman’s ear.

Her expression changed instantly. Without a single argument, she stood up and moved to the correct middle seat.

Mr. Johnson finally settled into his aisle seat, relieved but curious.

Hours later, when the plane touched down in New York, he approached the flight attendant.

“What did you say to her?” he asked.

The attendant grinned.

“I told her the aisle seat wasn’t going to New York City.”