It was just another routine flight from New York to Los Angeles for me, a 35-year-old marketing consultant accustomed to the hectic world of business travel. With a major conference awaiting me in LA and a tight connection to San Diego, I had everything meticulously planned out.
I chose an aisle seat, hoping to make a swift exit. As I approached my row, I noticed the man in the window seat. He exuded an air of self-importance, dressed impeccably in a button-down shirt and slacks. He barely acknowledged me as I took my seat, preoccupied with his expensive watch.
The flight was proceeding as expected until the meal service began. Starving from a busy day of preparation, I eagerly anticipated the food. However, just as the cart approached, nature called. I glanced at the aisle and saw the cart was still a few rows away, so I decided I had enough time to visit the restroom.
Airplane food | Source: Shutterstock
When I finally returned to my seat, my heart sank: my meal tray was gone. The man beside me was savoring his second meal with a smug smile on his face.
“Uh, did they bring my meal while I was gone?” I asked, my voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and anger.
He looked up, still chewing. “Oh, yeah. You were taking a while, so I thought you didn’t want it. Didn’t want it to go to waste.”
I was dumbfounded. “You ate my meal?”
“Yeah,” he said nonchalantly. “I was still hungry after mine, and you weren’t here. You can grab something at the airport.”
Stunned by his audacity, I tried to stay calm. I called the flight attendant and asked if there were any more meals left. She regretfully informed me that they had run out and offered me pretzels instead. I accepted the tiny bag, feeling defeated as I nibbled on them.
Meanwhile, Mr. Important finished both meals and promptly fell asleep, looking utterly content. I tried to focus on my work, though my growling stomach made it difficult.
As we began our descent into LA, the flight attendants made announcements about connecting flights. I glanced over at Mr. Important, still snoring away. I debated whether to wake him up for the gate change announcement but decided against it. I was running late and needed to make my connection.
I hurried off the plane, navigating through the bustling terminal and making it to my new gate just in time. As I settled into my seat for the flight to San Diego, I finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Later, in San Diego, I recounted the day’s events to my colleagues. Lisa, a coworker, mentioned seeing someone who sounded like Mr. Important. She described a disheveled man arguing with a gate agent at LAX, having missed his connection due to sleeping through the gate change announcement.
I couldn’t help but smile. “That sounds like him! He ate my meal and then fell asleep, missing his connection.”
Lisa’s eyes widened. “That’s karma in action!”
The satisfaction of witnessing the universe balance itself out was a small consolation for the frustration of the flight. In the end, it seemed that karma had a way of catching up with those who took advantage of others.
