Mr. Johnson boarded his flight to New York City and approached the aisle seat he had booked.

To his surprise, a blonde woman was already sitting there.

“Excuse me,” Mr. Johnson said, trying to stay calm. “That’s my seat. I specifically booked it.”

The woman looked up and said confidently, “I’m blonde, I’m smart, and I’m sitting in this aisle seat until the plane lands in New York City.”

Frustrated, Mr. Johnson checked her ticket. It clearly showed she was assigned to the middle seat.

“Your ticket says you’re supposed to sit in the middle,” he said, pointing to her ticket. “I booked this aisle seat because I’m six-foot-five, and I need the extra space. You’re what, five-foot-one? You’ll be fine in the middle seat.”

The blonde, unfazed, 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 in the window seat chimed in, “You should listen to him. My ex was tall—only six-foot-one and he always needed the aisle seat to avoid feeling cramped.”

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

At his wits’ end, Mr. Johnson called over a flight attendant. He explained the situation, and the attendant nodded before leaning down to whisper something in the blonde’s ear.

Suddenly, the blonde’s expression changed. Without a word, she moved to the middle seat.

Relieved, Mr. Johnson sat down in the aisle seat.

After the plane landed in New York, his curiosity got the better of him. He approached the flight attendant and asked, “What did you say to her?”

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