One woman expected her flight to be just another routine trip, but the rude actions of the passenger beside her led to an unexpected twist. The journey ended in a way neither of them could have predicted.
It was supposed to be a regular work trip for me—another flight from New York to Los Angeles. As a 35-year-old marketing consultant, flying had become routine; airports and planes were almost like a second home.
This time, I was heading to a big conference in LA, with a tight connection to San Diego for a pre-conference meeting. Everything was carefully planned—I couldn’t afford any delays.
I had even chosen an aisle seat so I could make a quick exit when we landed. As I approached my row, I noticed the man in the window seat was already settled in. He looked to be in his early 40s and gave off an air of self-importance.
He wore a neatly pressed button-down shirt, nice slacks, and polished shoes, and kept glancing at his expensive watch, barely looking at me as I sat down.
No big deal, I thought. I just wanted a quiet flight. I planned to review my notes for the meeting in San Diego and maybe catch a short nap before we landed. But I had no idea that this man would turn my simple trip into a minor nightmare.
About halfway through the flight, the flight attendants started serving dinner. I hadn’t eaten all day, so by the time the meal service began, I was starving. The smell of food filled the cabin, making my stomach growl. I was eager to eat, go over my notes, and rest.
But then, nature called. I saw that the food cart was still a few rows away, so I figured I had just enough time. I politely excused myself and headed to the restroom, trying not to disturb Mr. Important too much.
When I got to the back of the plane, I found a line. Just my luck! I checked my watch, watching the minutes tick by. By the time it was finally my turn, I was practically tapping my foot, worried about missing the meal service.
When I returned to my seat, I couldn’t believe my eyes: my meal tray was gone, and the man beside me was enjoying his second meal.
“Uh, did they bring my meal while I was gone?” I asked, though it was obvious.
He looked up, a smug smile on his face. “Oh, yeah. You were taking a while, so I figured you didn’t want it. Didn’t want it to go to waste.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “You ate my meal?”
“Yeah,” he said, still chewing. “I was still hungry after mine, and you weren’t here. You can grab something at the airport when we land.”
I was shocked. I had heard of entitled people, but this was on a whole new level. Who does something like that?
“Are you serious right now?” I muttered, more to myself than to him, hoping this was some kind of joke.
He just shrugged, looking completely unbothered. “Relax, it’s just airplane food.”
Feeling a mix of anger and disbelief, I pressed the call button and asked the flight attendant if there were any meals left. She gave me an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry, but we’ve run out of meals. Would you like some pretzels instead?”
Pretzels? That wasn’t going to cut it, but what choice did I have? I took the tiny bag of pretzels, feeling both defeated and increasingly annoyed at this man’s nerve.
Meanwhile, Mr. Important finished both meals, leaned back, and promptly fell asleep, looking as pleased as a cat that just caught a mouse.
I tried to focus on my work, nibbling on the pretzels and glaring at the man, who was now softly snoring beside me. My stomach growled, but I forced myself to concentrate on my notes. I had a tight connection to worry about and couldn’t let this guy ruin my day. I kept checking my watch, counting down the minutes until we landed.
As we started our descent into LA, the flight attendants made the usual announcements about landing and connecting flights. The reminder about tight connections snapped me back into work mode. I glanced at my seatmate, who was still out cold, oblivious to everything.
The plane landed, and as soon as it did, I grabbed my bag, ready to dash to my next gate. But just as I stood up, I heard one of the flight attendants make an important announcement: “Attention, passengers connecting to San Diego. There’s been a last-minute gate change. You’ll need to head to Terminal 4, Gate 45, as quickly as possible.”
Great, I thought. Just what I needed—a gate change. I turned to leave but paused as I looked at Mr. Important, still snoring away. Should I wake him up? Sure, he had eaten my meal and acted like a jerk, but did that mean I should leave him to miss his connection?
I nudged him lightly. “Hey, we’ve landed,” I said softly.
Nothing. He didn’t even move.
I nudged him a bit harder. “You might want to wake up; we’ve landed, and there’s a gate change.”
He mumbled something unintelligible and turned his head the other way, clearly not ready to wake up. Figuring that the general commotion would eventually wake him, I decided to focus on my own connection. I couldn’t afford to miss my flight, so I hurried off the plane.
The terminal was packed with people, and I had to weave through the crowd to reach my new gate. By the time I got there, they were already boarding. I made it just in time and, as I settled into my seat, a wave of relief washed over me. I was on my way to San Diego, and I finally had a moment to breathe.
When I arrived in San Diego and met up with my colleagues, I heard the whole story. As we were chatting about our flights, one of my coworkers, Lisa, mentioned seeing someone interesting.
“There was this guy at LAX who looked like he’d just woken up from a coma,” Lisa said, laughing. “He was stumbling off the plane, completely disoriented. I heard him arguing with a gate agent because he missed his connection. Apparently, he was asleep when they announced the gate change, and by the time he woke up, it was too late.”
I couldn’t help but grin. “What did he look like?”
Lisa described him: a man in his early 40s, wearing a slightly wrinkled button-down shirt, slacks, and polished shoes, with an expensive watch he kept checking as he argued with the gate agent. His hair was a mess, and he looked both frazzled and furious.
There was no doubt in my mind—it was him.
“Oh, that guy!” I said, satisfaction creeping into my voice. “Yeah, he was seated next to me. Can you believe he ate my meal while I was in the restroom and then fell asleep? I tried to wake him, but he wouldn’t budge.”
Lisa’s eyes widened. “No way! That’s karma in action right there.”
I couldn’t agree more. As frustrating as the whole ordeal had been, there was something deeply satisfying about knowing karma had stepped in. While I made it to my meeting on time, Mr. Important was stuck in LA, missing his connections and probably regretting his decision to indulge in both meals.
Sometimes, what goes around really does come around. And in this case, karma didn’t let it slide.
