She thought it would be just another routine flight, but what happened next caught her completely off guard. The person sitting next to her had a different idea, and the journey ended in a way neither of them had expected.
I was on yet another work trip, boarding a flight from New York to Los Angeles. As a 35-year-old marketing consultant, I fly so often that airports and airplanes feel like a second home. This time, I was heading to a big conference in LA and had a tight connection to San Diego for a pre-conference meeting. Everything was planned down to the minute—I couldn’t afford any delays.
I chose an aisle seat so I could exit quickly once we landed. As I reached my row, I saw that the man sitting in the window seat was already settled in. He looked like he was in his early 40s, with an air of self-importance. He was wearing a neatly pressed button-down shirt, nice slacks, and shiny shoes. He kept glancing at his fancy watch and barely noticed me as I sat down.
“No problem,” I thought. I just wanted a peaceful flight. I planned to review my notes for the meeting in San Diego, maybe catch a short nap before landing. But I had no idea that this man was about to turn my simple trip into a mini-nightmare.
About halfway through the flight, the flight attendants started serving dinner. I hadn’t eaten all day, so by the time they began the meal service, I was starving. The smell of food made my stomach rumble, and I was eager to eat, go over my notes, and then get some rest.
But then, nature called. I glanced down the aisle and saw the food cart still a few rows away. Thinking I had just enough time, I 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 saw there was a line. “Just great,” I thought. I checked my watch nervously as the minutes ticked by. By the time it was my turn, I was practically tapping my foot in impatience, worried I might miss the meal service.
When I returned to my seat, I couldn’t believe what I saw: my meal tray was gone, and the man next to me was happily digging into his second meal.
“Uh, did they bring my meal while I was gone?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
He looked up from his tray, 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, completely shocked. “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 couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I’d met some entitled people in my life, but this guy was on a whole different level. Who does something like that?
“Are you serious right now?” I asked, more to myself than to him, hoping this was some kind of joke.
He just shrugged, not bothered at all. “Relax, it’s just airplane food.”
I felt 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 my seatmate’s nerve.
Meanwhile, Mr. Important finished both meals, leaned back, and promptly fell asleep, looking as pleased as a cat that 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 guy 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 out of my frustration and back into work mode. I glanced at my seatmate, still out cold, oblivious to everything.
The plane finally touched down, and as soon as it did, I grabbed my bag, ready to run 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 hesitated for a moment, glancing at Mr. Important, still snoring away. I wondered if I should wake him up. Sure, he’d eaten my meal and acted like a complete jerk, but did that mean I should let him miss his connection?
I gave him a gentle nudge. “Hey, we’ve landed,” I said quietly.
Nothing. He didn’t even stir.
I nudged him a bit harder. “You might want to wake up; we’ve landed, and there’s a gate change.”
This time, he mumbled something I couldn’t understand and turned his head the other way, clearly not ready to wake up. Figuring that the general noise and movement 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.
It wasn’t until I arrived in San Diego and met up with my colleagues that I got the full 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 confused. 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?”
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 stressed and angry.
There was no doubt in my mind—it was him.
“Oh, that guy!” I said, feeling a bit of satisfaction. “Yeah, 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, but he 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 whole situation had frustrated me, it was incredibly satisfying to know that 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 miss a beat.