JFK Airport was crowded, noisy, and full of stressed travelers — the usual chaos. Flights were delayed, lines stretched forever, and everyone seemed tired and cranky. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, a sharp, loud voice cut through the buzz like a siren.
“Yeah, yeah, I told her I wasn’t gonna do that. It’s not my job. I don’t care if she cries.”
Heads snapped around. Near the Hudson News store, a woman in a bright red coat stood with her phone held far out in front of her. She was FaceTiming loudly, no headphones in sight, and everyone could hear every word.
Right behind her, a small white puffball of a dog squatted right on the terminal floor, leaving a fresh mess on the shiny tiles. The dog’s rhinestone collar sparkled under the harsh airport lights, completely ignoring the chaos it was causing.
An older man, wearing a tan cap and soft eyes, stepped forward carefully. “Excuse me, miss? Your dog…” He gestured politely at the mess spreading beneath them.
She whipped her head around, eyes flashing. “Some people are so damn rude,” she snapped. Then she turned back to her phone like she owned the place. “Ugh, this guy’s staring at me like I just murdered someone. Mind your business, Grandpa.”
A gasp ran through the crowd. Nearby, a mom whispered urgently, covering her child’s eyes. “Oh my God,” she said, like it was a crime scene.
Another traveler’s voice cracked out loud. “Ma’am! You’re not going to clean that up?”
Without breaking stride, the woman waved dismissively and said, “They have people for that.”
Everyone stood frozen, mouths open, trying to process what they’d just seen.
Later, at the TSA checkpoint, I saw her again. She barged past the line like the airport belonged to her. Dropping her tote bag loudly at the front.
“Ma’am, you need to wait your turn,” a TSA agent said calmly.
“I have PreCheck,” she snapped, voice sharp. “And my dog gets anxious.”
“That’s not the PreCheck line,” the agent said, pointing across the room.
“Well, I’m going through anyway,” she said like a queen ignoring rules.
Someone behind her muttered, “Unreal.”
Then came the shoe drama.
“I’m not taking them off,” she said stubbornly.
“You have to,” the agent replied.
“I’m TSA-friendly. They’re slides.”
“They’re boots, ma’am.”
“I’ll sue.”
After a long grumble, she finally kicked off her boots, muttering like the whole world was against her. Meanwhile, her dog barked nonstop — at a baby stroller, a man with a cane, and even rolling suitcases. It was like a tiny alarm going off constantly.
At the coffee stand, she raised her voice again, cutting through the murmurs. “No, I said almond milk! Are you deaf or something?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the barista replied politely. “We only have oat or soy milk right now.”
“I said almond!”
“We can refund you if you want.”
“Forget it. You people are impossible,” she snapped, grabbed her drink, and stormed off. Her music blasted out from her phone speakers, still no headphones. Nobody could escape hearing her playlist.
Finally, I reached Gate 22, the flight to Rome. And guess who was there?
Still FaceTiming loudly, still no headphones, still letting her dog bark at every little thing. She sprawled across three chairs: her legs on one, her bag on another, and the dog stretched out on the third.
A man across the way whispered, “This can’t be real.”
A young woman quietly stood up and moved away to another row.
Two older passengers leaned in, whispering nervously, “Is she really on our flight?” Their faces showed a mix of hope and fear — hoping she was just passing through.
The dog barked at a toddler nearby. The child began crying. The parents quietly picked up their baby and walked away without a word.
Nobody wanted to sit near her. Nobody said a thing. Except me.
I stood and walked right over. Sat down next to her.
She glanced sideways at me, eyes narrowing like I was another problem in her day. I smiled warmly.
“Long wait, huh?” I said.
No answer.
The dog barked at my shoe.
“Cute little guy,” I said gently.
“He doesn’t like strangers,” she muttered.
“I get it,” I said. “Airports bring out the worst in everyone.”
She went back to her loud phone call. I leaned back in my seat and looked around. People were watching us — watching her — watching me. Tired eyes filled with hope and curiosity.
I stayed quiet, because I already knew what I was going to do.
The noise around us hummed like a low storm. She was yelling about a missing bracelet, insisting, “They’ll just have to send a new one.”
Her voice grated on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard.
Her dog chewed a discarded plastic straw wrapper, leash nowhere in sight.
My eyes landed on a couple near the window. The man rested a cane across his lap, and his wife held their boarding pass like a fragile bird.
The dog barked loudly, sharp and sudden. They both jumped, startled. The woman whispered something. The man nodded. Slowly, they gathered their things and shuffled away.
That was my moment. I breathed out slowly, almost smiling.
This woman reminded me of someone I’d served long ago when I worked customer service. She’d dump out returns on the counter and say, “Do your job,” like it was a curse.
Someone who storms through life, leaving messes for others to clean.
I remembered my mom’s advice: “The only way to deal with a bully is to smile and move smarter than they do.” I never forgot those words.
And right then, I was tired. The past month had been brutal. This gate — this exact moment — felt like the perfect time to use Mom’s wisdom.
The woman screeched into her phone again. “No! Tell him I’m not paying for that! If he wants to fight, he can take it to court. I’ve got screenshots!”
The dog jumped down and barked nonstop, high-pitched and piercing.
A gate agent peeked out to make an announcement but saw the scene and quietly ducked back inside.
I stood up.
She looked at me, annoyed. “What now?”
I smiled. “Just stretching.”
She rolled her eyes and went back to her call.
I walked a few steps away, stretched my arms slowly, then casually leaned near the window at the gate’s edge. I waited just long enough for her to think I’d left. Just enough time for my plan to take shape.
Then I walked back, sat down next to her, and pulled out my phone like we were old friends chatting.
“Flying to Paris for fun?” I asked, casually.
She stopped mid-sentence. “What?”
“Paris,” I said, nodding toward the gate monitor. “Is this work or vacation?”
She scoffed. “I’m going to Rome.”
I glanced at the big screen — it still said “ROME – ON TIME” in bold letters. Then I tapped my phone like I was checking flight updates. “That’s weird. They just sent an alert saying the Rome flight moved to gate 14B. This gate is for Paris now.”
Her face twisted in confusion. “What?”
“Yeah,” I said, scrolling as if double-checking. “Must be a last-minute change. You better hurry. Gate 14B is pretty far.”
She looked at the monitor, then at me, then back at her phone. Without question, she muttered, “Unbelievable,” stood up, and began stuffing her things back into her huge bag. The dog barked again. She yanked the leash on — finally — and dragged it along behind her.
As she stomped off, her voice echoed behind her. “Stupid airport. No one knows what they’re doing.”
No one stopped her. Not the gate agent, not the tired passengers. Everyone just watched her disappear into the crowd, leaving behind a trail of angry words and snapping paws.
I leaned back, smiled to myself. Peace at last. No barking. No yelling. Just the regular hum of the airport gate.
The screen behind me still said, “ROME – ON TIME.” And she never came back.
A quiet moment passed. Then a soft laugh escaped someone near the back. It spread like warmth — a gentle wave of relief rolling through the crowd.
A young woman gave me a thumbs-up.
A man across the aisle tipped an invisible hat.
The mom with the toddler, now happily playing with a toy truck, smiled wide and mouthed, “Thank you.”
From near the snack kiosk, someone clapped once, paused, then clapped again. A few others joined in, unsure but happy. The moment didn’t need a big celebration — just a quiet nod that something had changed.
A little girl whispered, “Yay,” hugging her stuffed bear tight.
Her parents looked less tense.
Even the gate agent, back at her podium, seemed surprised — maybe even grateful.
I exchanged glances with others around. Rome only gets one flight a day from JFK.
Oops.
