I was on a flight to a work conference, feeling pleased about securing an aisle seat.
The window seat next to me was occupied by a man in his 40s, dressed in a suit and acting as if he owned the plane. Halfway through the flight, the flight attendants began serving dinner.
I hadn’t eaten all day, so I was eagerly anticipating my meal. Just as the food was being served, I needed to use the restroom. When I returned, my tray was missing.
To my shock, Mr. Important next to me was happily devouring what was clearly my dinner. “Did they bring my meal?” I asked, trying to stay composed. He didn’t even try to conceal his smirk. “Oh, yeah. You took too long, so I assumed you didn’t want it.
Can’t let good food go to waste. Besides, I was still hungry.” I was stunned. “You ate my meal?” He just grinned, chewing away. “You snooze, you lose.
You can grab a burger at the airport or something. No big deal.” I was left with only a small bag of pretzels while he relaxed, looking pleased with himself. But then, karma took its turn. The flight attendants announced that…
…the airline had mistakenly loaded the wrong meals for the flight, and anyone who had eaten the chicken option—which just so happened to be the meal he was now devouring—should report immediately to the galley due to a potential food safety issue.
Mr. Important froze mid-bite, his smug grin vanishing instantly. The confidence he had worn like armor melted into panic. He looked at his half-eaten tray, then back at me. “Do you think it’s serious?” he asked nervously, his tone now devoid of the arrogance from earlier.
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, feigning nonchalance. “They don’t usually make those kinds of announcements unless it’s bad. I mean, really bad.”
He paled. “Like… food poisoning bad?”
“Possibly,” I said, leaning back and folding my arms. “I guess we’ll find out. Good thing I didn’t eat it.”
He gulped, his confidence completely shattered, and quickly flagged down a flight attendant. “I ate the chicken,” he confessed, his voice trembling. “What’s the problem? Am I going to be okay?”
The flight attendant assured him it was just a precautionary measure and suggested he drink plenty of water, but the seed of paranoia had already been planted. For the rest of the flight, he couldn’t sit still, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, breaking into a cold sweat, and clutching his stomach at every minor gurgle.
Meanwhile, I calmly sipped my drink, nibbling on my pretzels, and enjoyed the in-flight movie. Every so often, I’d glance his way, just to watch him squirm. It wasn’t the warm, comforting dinner I had hoped for, but seeing him suffer his karmic comeuppance was almost as satisfying.
As the plane began its descent, he leaned over to me, looking genuinely distressed. “I’m really sorry for taking your meal,” he muttered, barely meeting my eyes. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You snooze, you lose, right?”
He winced, realizing his own words had come back to haunt him. “Yeah… I guess I deserved that.”
I just smiled and turned back to the window, satisfied. Karma may have taken its time, but it always knows when to strike.
