I thought my flight would be just another routine trip, but I never imagined how things would turn out after what happened with the passenger beside me. It all started with a simple act of audacity that led to an unexpected twist.
I was on a work trip, boarding a flight from New York to Los Angeles. At 35 years old and working as a marketing consultant, I was used to flying frequently—airports and flights felt like a second home to me.
This time, I was headed to a big conference in LA, and I had 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 reached my row, I saw that the man in the window seat was already settled in. He looked to be in his early 40s and had a certain arrogant vibe about him.
He wore a crisp button-down shirt, nice slacks, and polished shoes, constantly checking his expensive watch. He barely glanced at me as I took my seat.
I shrugged it off. No big deal. I just wanted a quiet flight, maybe review my notes for the San Diego meeting, and take a short nap before we landed. But little did I know, this man was about to turn my straightforward trip into something far from relaxing.
Halfway through the flight, the attendants started serving dinner. I hadn’t eaten all day, and I was starving. The smell of food made my stomach rumble, and I was more than ready to eat, check my notes, and catch a little rest.
But just then, I felt the call of nature. I looked down the aisle and saw that the food cart was still a few rows away. I figured I had enough time, so I excused myself and headed to the restroom, careful not to disturb Mr. Important too much.
When I got to the back of the plane, I found a line for the restroom. Great, just what I needed! I checked my watch nervously, watching the minutes tick by. By the time it was my turn, I was practically tapping my foot with impatience, worried I’d miss the meal service.
Finally, I got back to my seat, only to find a shocking sight: my meal tray was gone, and the man beside me was happily devouring a second meal.
“Uh, did they bring my meal while I was gone?” I asked, even though it was pretty clear.
He looked up with a smug smile. “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, stunned. “You ate my meal?”
“Yeah,” he said casually, still chewing. “I was still hungry after mine, and you weren’t here. You can grab something at the airport when we land.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I had met some entitled people before, but this was a whole new level. Who does that?
“Are you serious right now?” I muttered, more to myself than to him, hoping this was some sort of joke.
He just shrugged like it was nothing. “Relax, it’s just airplane food.”
Trying to keep my cool, 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 was hardly a replacement for a full meal, but what choice did I have? I took the tiny bag of pretzels, feeling both defeated and furious at my seatmate’s nerve.
Meanwhile, Mr. Important finished both meals, leaned back, and promptly fell asleep, looking as satisfied as a cat who’d just caught a mouse.
I tried to focus on my work, nibbling on the pretzels and glaring at the man 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 jerk ruin my day. I kept checking my watch, counting down the minutes until we landed.
As we began our descent into LA, the flight attendants made the usual announcements about landing and connecting flights. The reminder about tight connections snapped me back to reality. I glanced at my seatmate, still completely out, snoring softly.
The plane touched down, and as soon as we landed, I grabbed my bag, ready to dash to my next gate. Just as I stood up, a flight attendant announced over the intercom, “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.”
Fantastic, I thought. Just what I needed—a gate change. I turned to leave, but then I looked back at Mr. Important, still snoozing away. Should I wake him up? He had eaten my meal and been a complete jerk, but did that mean I should leave him to miss his connection?
I nudged him lightly. “Hey, we’ve landed,” I whispered.
No response. He didn’t even stir.
I nudged him 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. Deciding he could wake up on his own, I focused on my own connection. I couldn’t miss my flight, so I hurried off the plane.
The terminal was crowded, and I had to weave through a sea of people to reach my new gate. By the time I got there, they were already boarding. I made it just in time and felt a wave of relief wash over me as I settled into my seat. I was on my way to San Diego, finally able to breathe.
When I arrived in San Diego and met up with my colleagues, I learned the rest of the story. As we were chatting, my coworker Lisa mentioned something that caught my attention.
“There was this guy at LAX who looked like he’d just woken up from a coma,” Lisa said, chuckling. “He was stumbling off the plane, completely out of it. I overheard 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?” I asked.
Lisa described him perfectly—a man in his early 40s, wearing a wrinkled button-down shirt, slacks, and polished shoes, constantly checking his expensive watch while arguing with the gate agent. His hair was a mess, and he looked both stressed and furious.
It had to be him.
“Oh, that guy!” I said, a smile spreading across my face. “He was sitting 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 up, but he just wouldn’t budge.”
Lisa’s eyes widened. “No way! That’s karma in action right there.”
I couldn’t agree more. As much as the ordeal had frustrated me, there was something deeply satisfying about seeing karma play its part. While I made it to my meeting on time, Mr. Important was stuck in LA, missing his connections and likely regretting his greedy choice.
Sometimes, what goes around really does come around. And this time, karma didn’t let it slide.
