Arrogant Passenger Ate My Plane Meal—Karma Didn’t Let It Slide

What began as a routine flight turned into an unexpected saga when a fellow passenger’s audacity left me both shocked and amused. The story ended in a way neither of us saw coming, thanks to a little help from karma.

It was just another work trip for me, flying from New York to Los Angeles. As a 35-year-old marketing consultant, I travel frequently, so I’m well-versed in the ins and outs of airports and flights. This time, I was on my way to a major conference in LA, with a tight connection to San Diego for a pre-conference meeting. Everything was carefully planned, and I couldn’t afford any delays.

I had even chosen an aisle seat for a quick exit. When I reached my row, I noticed the man in the window seat already settled in. He looked to be in his early 40s, dressed in a crisp button-down shirt, slacks, and polished shoes, and he kept checking his expensive watch without acknowledging my presence.

No big deal, I thought. I just wanted a quiet flight, to review my notes, and maybe grab a nap before landing. Little did I know, this man was about to turn my flight into a mini-nightmare.

Halfway through the flight, the attendants began serving dinner. I hadn’t eaten all day, so by the time the cart reached us, I was starving. The smell of the food made my stomach growl, and I was eager to eat, go over my notes, and relax. But right at that moment, nature called.

Seeing the food cart was still a few rows away, I decided I had just enough time to head to the restroom. I excused myself, trying not to disturb my seatmate too much. Unfortunately, there was a line at the restroom, and by the time I got back to my seat, my tray was gone—and my seatmate was enjoying his second meal.

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

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

I stared at him, dumbfounded. “You ate my meal?”

“Yeah,” he said nonchalantly. “I was still hungry after mine. You can grab something at the airport.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I’d encountered rude people before, but this was a new level of entitlement. I hit the call button and asked the flight attendant if there were any meals left. With an apologetic smile, she said, “I’m so sorry, but we’ve run out of meals. Would you like some pretzels instead?”

Pretzels? That wouldn’t cut it, but I had no other choice. I accepted the tiny bag, feeling defeated. Meanwhile, Mr. Important finished both meals, leaned back, and fell asleep, looking smug and satisfied.

I tried to focus on my work, nibbling on pretzels while my stomach growled in protest. Despite the frustration, I reminded myself that I had more important things to focus on, like making my tight connection.

As we began our descent into LA, the flight attendants made the usual announcements about landing and connecting flights. One announcement caught my attention: “Passengers connecting to San Diego, there’s been a last-minute gate change. Please proceed to Terminal 4, Gate 45.”

Great. Just what I needed—a gate change. As I gathered my things, I noticed Mr. Important still snoring away. I debated whether to wake him but decided that the general commotion would wake him soon enough. I had no time to waste and hurried off the plane to catch my flight.

By the time I reached my gate, they were already boarding. I made it just in time, and as I settled into my seat, I felt a wave of relief. I was on my way to San Diego.

Later, when I met up with my colleagues, I heard the rest of the story. One of them, Lisa, mentioned seeing a disoriented man at LAX, arguing with a gate agent after missing his connection.

“He looked like he’d just woken up from a coma,” Lisa said, laughing. “He was mad because he slept through the gate change.”

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

Lisa described him perfectly—early 40s, expensive watch, slightly wrinkled clothes. It was him.

“Oh, I know him,” I said, satisfaction creeping in. “He ate my meal on the plane and fell asleep right after.”

Lisa’s eyes widened. “No way! That’s karma right there.”

Indeed, it was. While I made it to my meeting on time, Mr. Important was stuck in LA, missing his connection—and perhaps regretting his earlier behavior.

Sometimes, karma doesn’t let things slide, and in this case, it delivered perfectly.