It all started with a chaotic scene at the airport that set my blood boiling. I was standing near my gate when I noticed a small dog darting around, causing a huge mess. Trash was scattered everywhere, and the dog’s owner, a woman with an air of entitlement, seemed completely oblivious. A man tried to get her attention, but she just brushed him off like it wasn’t her problem. I was furious—who did she think she was?
As I watched, the dog continued to cause trouble, knocking over a trash can. I stepped in, warning people to watch their step as a kind stranger went off to find a maintenance worker. I turned to the man who had tried to help earlier and asked, “Can you believe that?”
He shook his head in frustration. “Flying with pets is a privilege, not a right. Some people just don’t get it.”
“I’m Nora,” I said, introducing myself.
“Jasper,” he replied, shaking my hand. “Heading somewhere nice?”
“London, for work. You?”
“Tokyo. Business trip.”
We chatted for a few minutes, exchanging small talk, but the anger still simmered inside me as we parted ways. I couldn’t believe how inconsiderate that woman was. But then, to my disbelief, I saw her again near my gate.
She was sitting there, her dog still barking non-stop, and now she was blasting loud music from her phone without headphones. Other passengers were moving away, trying to escape the noise, but I had a different plan. I decided to sit right next to her.
“Are you going to Tokyo on business?” I asked her, pretending to be friendly.
She barely glanced at me and snapped, “I’m going to London.”
I widened my eyes in fake surprise. “Oh no! Then you better hurry. That flight got moved to gate 53C. This is the flight to Tokyo.”
Her eyes went wide with panic. Without even checking the monitor, she grabbed her bags and her dog and rushed off to the other gate. I couldn’t help but grin as I watched her leave. The gate monitor still clearly showed “London,” but she was too wrapped up in herself to notice.
As boarding time approached, I kept an eye out for her return. The final boarding call came and went, but there was no sign of her or her yappy dog. I settled into my seat, feeling a strange mix of satisfaction and guilt. As the plane began to taxi, it hit me—she must have missed the flight.
The woman next to me smiled as the plane took off. “First time flying to London?”
“No, I go for work pretty often. I’m Nora,” I replied.
“Mei,” she introduced herself. “I noticed that commotion earlier with the woman and her dog. Did you see her get on?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think she made it back in time.”
Mei’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really? Wow, that’s… unfortunate.”
I shrugged, trying to seem casual. “Yeah, well… karma, I guess.”
Mei nodded slowly. “I suppose. Still, it seems a bit harsh. Missing a flight is a big deal.”
Her words made me squirm in my seat. Had I gone too far? “You’re right,” I admitted, feeling the weight of my actions. “I just got so angry seeing how she treated everyone.”
Mei patted my arm gently. “We all have our moments. The important thing is to learn from them.”
As the plane soared through the sky, I couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d done. I hadn’t meant for her to miss her flight, but it felt like the universe had balanced the scales after her horrible behavior. Yet, Mei’s words kept echoing in my mind. Had I really taught her a lesson, or had I just lowered myself to her level?
The flight attendant’s voice broke through my thoughts. “Drinks, ladies?”
“Water, please,” Mei said.
I nodded. “Same for me, thanks.”
As we sipped our drinks, Mei turned to me again. “So, what takes you to London so often?”
I welcomed the chance to change the subject. “I work for a tech company. We’re expanding our European operations.”
“That sounds exciting,” Mei said, her eyes lighting up. “Any favorite spots in the city?”
We spent the next hour chatting about London, our jobs, and travel stories. It was a pleasant distraction from the guilt gnawing at me. Halfway through the flight, I excused myself to use the restroom. As I waited in line, I overheard a conversation that made my stomach drop.
“Yeah, some lady missed her flight because someone gave her the wrong gate number,” a man was saying. “She was raising hell at customer service when I left.”
I felt the color drain from my face. It was real now—I had actually caused her to miss her flight. Back in my seat, I must have looked as bad as I felt because Mei asked, “Are you okay? You look a bit pale.”
I considered lying, but the guilt was overwhelming. “Can I tell you something? Promise not to judge?”
Mei nodded, her expression serious. I took a deep breath and told her everything—the dog incident, my anger, the false gate information. By the time I finished, I felt like the worst person in the world. Mei was quiet for a moment, then she said, “Well, that was certainly… creative.”
I groaned, feeling ashamed. “I’m a terrible person, aren’t I?”
“No,” Mei said firmly. “You made a mistake, yes. But terrible people don’t feel bad about their actions.”
Her words were kind, but they didn’t erase my guilt. “What should I do?” I asked, searching for some guidance.
Mei thought for a moment. “Well, you can’t undo what’s done. But maybe this can be a turning point—a reminder to think before you act, even when you’re angry.”
I nodded slowly. “You’re right. I just hope she learned something too.”
“Maybe she did,” Mei said softly. “Sometimes it takes a shock to make us realize our behavior isn’t okay.”
As we began our descent into London, I made a silent promise to myself. I’d use this experience as a lesson, a reminder to be better, even when faced with difficult people. The plane touched down, and as we taxied to the gate, Mei turned to me one last time.
“Remember, Nora, we’re all works in progress. The important thing is to keep trying to be better.”
I smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Mei. For listening and for the wisdom.”
As we disembarked, I couldn’t help but scan the faces in the airport, half-expecting to see the woman from the gate. She wasn’t there, of course, but the memory of her, and my actions, would stay with me for a long time. I didn’t know if she’d made it back before we took off, but I hadn’t seen her aboard, and I hadn’t heard her dog.
Missing her flight wasn’t my original intention, but it felt like the universe balancing the scales for her awful behavior. Yet as I walked through the airport, I realized the scales don’t always balance so neatly. Sometimes, they just keep tipping, leaving us to find our balance in the chaos of human interactions.
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