What I thought would be just another routine work trip turned into an unexpected story of entitlement, frustration, and a satisfying twist of karma. The journey didn’t go as planned for one of my fellow passengers, and by the end of it, neither of us got what we expected.
It was a typical flight for me, boarding from New York to Los Angeles as part of my job as a 35-year-old marketing consultant. I travel a lot, so navigating airports and flights is second nature at this point. This time, I was headed to a major conference in LA, with a tight connection to San Diego for a pre-conference meeting. Every detail of the trip was meticulously planned, and I couldn’t afford any delays.
I had strategically picked an aisle seat to ensure a quick exit. When I arrived at my row, I saw the man in the window seat already settled in. He looked to be in his early 40s, dressed sharply in a button-down shirt, pressed slacks, and polished shoes. He barely acknowledged me as I sat down, too busy glancing at his expensive watch with an air of self-importance.
No big deal, I thought. I just wanted to get through the flight, review my notes for the meeting, and maybe squeeze in a short nap before landing. Little did I know, this man would turn my simple flight into an infuriating ordeal.
Halfway through the flight, the attendants started serving dinner. I hadn’t eaten all day, so by the time the food cart made its way toward us, I was starving. The smell of food only made my hunger worse. I was ready to eat, review my notes, and then relax for the rest of the flight.
But, just as the meal cart was approaching, nature called. I figured I had enough time before the food reached our row, so I excused myself and headed to the restroom, careful not to disturb Mr. Important too much.
Unfortunately, there was a line at the restroom, and I grew more anxious by the minute, worried that I might miss my meal. By the time I returned to my seat, I was met with an unbelievable sight: my meal tray was gone, and the man beside me was happily eating his second meal.
“Did they bring my meal while I was gone?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
He looked up with a smug smile. “Oh, yeah. You were gone a while, so I figured you didn’t want it. Didn’t want it to go to waste.”
I stared at him, completely dumbfounded. “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.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I had heard of entitled people before, but this was on a whole new level.
“Are you serious right now?” I asked, more to myself than to him, hoping it was some kind of joke.
He just shrugged, entirely unfazed. “Relax, it’s just airplane food.”
Feeling a mixture of anger and disbelief, I hit the call button and asked the flight attendant if there were any meals left. She apologized with a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, we’ve run out of meals. Would you like some pretzels instead?”
Pretzels? That wasn’t going to satisfy my hunger, but what choice did I have? I accepted the tiny bag of pretzels, feeling defeated and more annoyed than ever at my seatmate’s audacity.
Meanwhile, Mr. Important polished off both meals, leaned back in his seat, and promptly fell asleep, looking as smug and satisfied as a cat who had 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 in protest, but I forced myself to concentrate on my notes. I had a tight connection to worry about, and I wasn’t going to let this jerk ruin my day.
As the plane began its descent into LA, the flight attendants made the usual announcements about landing and connecting flights. Hearing the reminder about tight connections snapped me out of my frustration and back into work mode. I glanced at my seatmate, still fast asleep, oblivious to everything going on.
As soon as the plane touched down, I grabbed my bag, ready to dash to my next gate. But before I could leave, 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 glanced at Mr. Important, still snoozing away, and debated whether or not to wake him. Sure, he had eaten my meal and been a total jerk, but did that mean I should leave him to miss his connection?
I nudged him lightly. “Hey, we’ve landed,” I said quietly.
Nothing. He didn’t even stir.
I nudged him a little harder. “You might want to wake up; we’ve landed, and there’s a gate change.”
This time, he mumbled something, rolled over, and continued sleeping. Figuring the commotion would eventually wake him up, I decided to focus on my own connection. I couldn’t afford to miss my flight, so I hurried off the plane.
By the time I reached my new gate, 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 the stress of the flight was finally behind me.
When I arrived in San Diego, I caught up with my colleagues and heard the rest of the story. One of them, Lisa, mentioned seeing a man at LAX who looked completely disoriented, arguing with the gate agent because he had missed his connection.
“He looked like he’d just woken up from a deep sleep,” Lisa said, laughing. “He was stumbling around, trying to figure out what had happened.”
I couldn’t help but grin. “What did he look like?”
Lisa described him—a man in his early 40s, slightly wrinkled shirt, expensive watch, and an air of frustration.
It was him.
“Oh, I know him,” I said, satisfaction creeping in. “He was the guy who ate my meal on the plane while I was in the restroom. I tried to wake him up when we landed, but he wouldn’t budge.”
Lisa’s eyes widened. “No way! That’s karma in action right there.”
I couldn’t agree more. While I made it to my meeting on time, Mr. Important was stuck in LA, likely regretting his decision to indulge in both meals.
Sometimes, karma works faster than expected—and this time, it didn’t let him off the hook.
