Arrogant Passenger Ate My Airplane Meal—Karma Had Other Plans

What I thought would be a routine flight took an unexpected turn when a fellow passenger’s audacity led to an unanticipated twist. By the end of the journey, karma had the final say in a way neither of us saw coming.

It started as just another work trip for me, flying from New York to Los Angeles. As a 35-year-old marketing consultant, I travel often, so airports and flights are second nature. This time, I was heading to a major conference in LA with a tight connection to San Diego for a pre-conference meeting. Everything was carefully planned—I couldn’t afford any delays.

I had selected an aisle seat for a quick exit, and as I approached my row, I saw the man in the window seat was already settled in. He looked to be in his early 40s, radiating self-importance. Dressed in a crisp button-down shirt, pressed slacks, and polished shoes, he kept checking his expensive watch and barely acknowledged me when I sat down.

No big deal, I thought. I just wanted a peaceful flight where I could review my notes and maybe take a short nap. But little did I know, this man would turn my straightforward trip into a mini-nightmare.

Midway through the flight, the meal service began, and I was starving. I hadn’t eaten all day, and the smell of food made my stomach growl. Just as the cart approached, I realized I needed to use the restroom. Glancing at the aisle, I figured I had enough time and excused myself, careful not to disturb Mr. Important too much.

After a long wait in line, I hurried back to my seat, eager for my meal—only to find my tray gone. To my disbelief, the man beside me was happily digging into his second meal.

“Did they bring my meal while I was gone?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

He looked up with a smug smile. “Yeah, you were gone a while, so I figured you didn’t want it. Didn’t want it to go to waste.”

“You ate my meal?” I asked, stunned.

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

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Who does that?

Feeling frustrated, I pressed the call button and asked the flight attendant if any meals were left. She apologized with a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, we’ve run out. Would you like some pretzels instead?”

Pretzels? Not exactly what I had in mind, but I had no choice. As I snacked on the pretzels, my seatmate finished both meals and promptly fell asleep, looking completely satisfied.

I tried to focus on my work, ignoring my growling stomach and the growing irritation I felt toward him. I had more important things to worry about, like making my tight connection. When the plane landed in LA, I was ready to dash to my next gate. That’s when an announcement came over the intercom: “Passengers connecting to San Diego, there’s been a gate change to Terminal 4, Gate 45.”

Great, I thought. Just what I needed—a last-minute gate change. I glanced at Mr. Important, still snoring away. Should I wake him? He had been a complete jerk, but I didn’t want him to miss his connection.

I nudged him lightly. “Hey, we’ve landed.”

Nothing. He didn’t stir.

I nudged him a little harder. “We’ve landed, and there’s a gate change.”

He mumbled something and turned away. Figuring the noise would eventually wake him, I grabbed my bag and hurried off the plane.

By the time I reached my new gate, boarding had already begun. I made it just in time and, as I settled into my seat for the next leg of the trip, felt relieved to be on my way to San Diego.

Later, when I met up with my colleagues, the story took an amusing twist. One of them, Lisa, mentioned seeing a guy at LAX who looked like he’d just woken up from a coma.

“He was stumbling off the plane, totally disoriented and arguing with the gate agent because he missed his connection,” she laughed. “He said he’d slept through the announcement.”

I couldn’t help but grin. “What did he look like?”

Lisa described him—a man in his early 40s, slightly wrinkled clothes, polished shoes, and an expensive watch.

It was him.

“No way,” I said, satisfaction creeping in. “That guy ate my meal while I was in the restroom and fell asleep right after.”

Lisa’s eyes widened. “Karma definitely got him!”

I couldn’t agree more. As much as I was frustrated during the flight, knowing that Mr. Important had missed his connection was deeply satisfying. While I made it to my meeting on time, he was stuck in LA, likely regretting his decision to help himself to both meals.

Sometimes, what goes around really does come around—and in this case, karma didn’t let it slide.