I was in first class on a flight to New York when a cashmere blanket came sailing through the air and landed squarely on my lap. A flight attendant hurried over and crouched beside my seat. “I’m so sorry, ma’am,” she murmured. “Miss Tiffany, in the row ahead of you, insists on absolute quiet. She says she can’t tolerate the slightest sound.” “She’s offering five hundred dollars if you’d be willing to move to an empty seat in business class.” I set down my water glass, offered a tight smile, then picked up the blanket and tossed it back where it came from. “I’ll pay five hundred and one. *She* can move.” The blanket draped itself over the woman’s face in the row ahead. She ripped it off and shot to her feet, her finger pointed directly at me. “Who do you think you are, talking to me like that?” “Do you know who I am? Bruno Santoro owns this airline, and he’s my boyfriend.” “If you don’t get off this plane, I’ll make sure you’re on a no-fly list for every ai......
