There I was, gearing up for another routine flight from New York to Los Angeles. As a 35-year-old marketing consultant, I was quite accustomed to the whole airport and flight routine. Little did I know that this particular trip would be far from uneventful.

I had everything carefully planned out for my tight connection to San Diego, where I had an important pre-conference meeting. With the conference being such a crucial event, I couldn’t afford any delays. Determined to make it a smooth journey, I even chose an aisle seat for a quick exit.

As I settled into my row, I noticed a man in his early 40s already seated by the window. He had an air of self-importance about him, barely acknowledging my presence. Clad in a sharply pressed button-down shirt, slacks, and polished shoes, he seemed anxious and constantly checked his expensive watch. I brushed it off, hoping for a quiet flight to go over my notes for the San Diego meeting.

Little did I know, this man was about to turn my simple trip into a mini-nightmare. The incident that unfolded completely caught me off guard and left a lasting impression.

The Food Fiasco

Midway through the flight, the attendants began serving dinner. Starving from not having eaten all day due to conference preparations, the aroma of food filled the cabin, intensifying my hunger. I eagerly anticipated the moment when I could dig into my meal tray, review my notes, and maybe catch a quick nap before landing.

But then, nature called. Glancing down the aisle, I hoped the food cart was still a few rows away. To my relief, it was. Seizing the opportunity for a quick restroom break, I excused myself and headed to the back of the plane, conscious not to disturb Mr. Important too much.

To my dismay, there was a long line outside the restroom. Time seemed to drag as I anxiously checked my watch. By the time it was finally my turn, the meal service had begun, and I didn’t want to miss out.

Returning to my seat, I couldn’t believe my eyes. My meal tray was gone, and the man beside me was enjoying a second helping of food! Shocked, I mustered the courage to ask, even though it was painfully obvious. “Did they bring my meal while I was gone?”

Looking up from his tray, a smug smile graced 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.”

Stunned, I uttered, “You ate my meal?”

Casually chewing, he replied, “Yeah, I was still hungry after mine, and you weren’t here. You can grab something at the airport when we land.”

The audacity of this man left me dumbfounded. Dealing with entitled individuals in the past had prepared me to some extent, but this was on another level. I stood there in silence, unable to comprehend his behavior.

“Are you serious right now?” I asked incredulously, half-hoping that this was some twisted joke.

Unfazed, he shrugged and quipped, “Relax, it’s just airplane food.”

Enraged and disheartened, I called the flight attendant for assistance. However, they regretfully informed me that they had run out of meals. The only option offered was a meager bag of pretzels.

Meanwhile, Mr. Important finished both meals, reclined in his seat, and drifted off to sleep, looking as satisfied as a cat after a successful hunt. Despite my annoyance, I focused on my work, nibbling on the pretzels and glaring at him intermittently.

Though hunger gnawed at my stomach, I reminded myself about my tight connection and the importance of not letting this jerk ruin my day. The minutes ticked away as I anxiously checked my watch, eagerly anticipating our landing.

Karma Strikes

As our plane began its descent into LA, the flight attendants made the usual announcements about landing and connecting flights. The mention of tight connections snapped me out of my frustration, bringing me back to reality. I glanced at Mr. Important, still blissfully unaware and asleep, as if the world revolved around him.

With the aircraft finally touching down, a surge of relief washed over me. I grabbed my bag, poised for a speedy dash to my next gate. However, just as I stood up, an important announcement echoed through the cabin: “Attention, passengers connecting to San Diego. There has been a last-minute gate change. You must proceed to Terminal 4, Gate 45, as quickly as possible.”

Great, a gate change! I contemplated whether I should wake up Mr. Important. While he had devoured my meal and acted like a complete jerk, leaving him to miss his connection seemed quite tempting.

As I reached for my bag in the overhead bin, I gently nudged him and whispered, “Hey, we’ve landed. You might want to wake up; there’s a gate change.”

But he remained motionless, mumbling something incoherent and turning away from me. Resigned to the fact that the commotion of disembarking would eventually wake him, I left him snoozing and hurried off the plane.

The terminal was bustling with fellow travelers, and I deftly navigated through the crowd to reach my new gate. Luckily, I arrived just in time for boarding, sinking into my seat with a sigh of relief. Finally, I had a moment to breathe.

Karma’s Lesson

It wasn’t until I met up with my colleagues in San Diego that I discovered the events that had transpired. Engaging in a conversation about our flights, one of my coworkers, Lisa, recounted an encounter she had at LAX. Her description of a disoriented, irate man matched Mr. Important perfectly.

Amused, I chimed in, “Oh, that guy! 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 didn’t budge.”

Lisa’s eyes widened with realization. “No way! That’s karma in action right there.”

I couldn’t help but agree. Despite my initial frustration, there was a sense of satisfaction in knowing that karma had intervened. While I had successfully made it to my meeting on time, Mr. Important was left stranded in LA, missing his connections and likely regretting his entitled actions.

Indeed, what goes around truly does come around. And in this instance, karma refused to let it slide.