At Las Vegas Airport, I witnessed an appalling display of entitlement that sparked a series of events challenging my sense of justice and karma.
Early one morning, as I trudged toward my gate in need of coffee, I spotted a woman with a small dog. She was engrossed in a FaceTime call, oblivious to everything around her.
“Oh my God, Stacey, you won’t believe what happened last night,” she shouted into her phone.
I was about to move on when I noticed her dog squatting on the airport floor.
“Excuse me, miss?” a middle-aged man nearby said, trying to get her attention. “Your dog is…”
The woman shot him a withering glare. “Some people are just so damned rude,” she complained into her phone.
I was stunned. As the dog finished, the woman started walking away, leaving the mess behind.
“You’re not going to clean that up?” another bystander asked, clearly shocked.
The woman turned, her face twisted in disgust. “They have people for that,” she snapped. Then, spotting an airport cleaner nearby, she shouted, “Do your job! I’m not going to do it for you!”
The young worker, likely in his early twenties, looked dumbfounded. His face turned red as he stammered, “Ma’am, I… that’s not… you’re supposed to…”
But the woman had already vanished into the crowd. The worker stood there, looking defeated, as if hoping someone would tell him this was a bad joke.
I couldn’t stay silent. I approached him and said, “Hey, are you okay? That woman was completely out of line.”
He sighed. “Thanks. I just… don’t even know how to handle that. It’s not even my department.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I reassured him. “We all saw what happened. It’s not your fault.”
He nodded gratefully and hurried off, probably to find someone who could address the mess.
My anger simmered. How could anyone think they could treat others like that?
I approached the mess, warning people to watch their step. A kind stranger went to find a maintenance worker.
“Can you believe that?” I asked the man who had tried to alert the woman earlier.
He shook his head. “Flying with pets is a privilege, not a right. Some people just don’t get it.”
“I’m Nora,” I said, extending my hand.
“Jasper,” he replied, shaking it. “Heading somewhere nice?”
“London, for work. You?”
“Tokyo. Business trip.”
We chatted briefly before parting ways. I couldn’t shake my anger as I walked to my gate. Then I saw her again.
The entitled woman was seated near my gate, her dog barking incessantly. To make matters worse, she was blasting music from her phone without headphones.
Other passengers were moving away, but I had a different idea. I sat down right next to her.
“Are you going to Tokyo on business?” I asked, feigning friendliness.
She barely glanced at me. “I’m going to London,” she snapped.
Feigning surprise, I widened my eyes. “Oh no! You’d better hurry. That flight’s been moved to gate 53C. This is the flight to Tokyo.”
Her eyes widened. Without checking the monitor, she grabbed her bags and dog and stormed off.
I couldn’t help but grin. The gate monitor still clearly showed “London,” but she was too absorbed in herself to notice.
As boarding time approached, I kept an eye out for her return. The final call came and went, but she never reappeared.
I settled into my seat, feeling a mix of satisfaction and guilt. As the plane taxied, it became clear she must have missed her flight.
The woman next to me smiled. “First time flying to London?”
“No, I go often for work. I’m Nora.”
“Mei,” she replied. “I noticed the commotion earlier with that woman and her dog. Did she get on?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think she made it back in time.”
Mei’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? That’s… unfortunate.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, well… karma, I guess.”
Mei nodded. “I suppose. Still, it seems a bit harsh. Missing a flight is a big deal.”
Her words made me squirm. Had I gone too far?
“You’re right,” I admitted. “I just got so angry seeing how she treated everyone.”
Mei patted my arm. “We all have our moments. The important thing is to learn from them.”
As the plane took off, I reflected on what I’d done. Missing her flight wasn’t my original intention, but it felt like the universe had balanced the scales for her behavior.
Yet Mei’s words lingered. Had I really taught her a lesson, or had I just stooped to her level?
The flight attendant’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. “Drinks, ladies?”
“Water, please,” Mei said.
“Same for me, thanks,” I added.
As we sipped our drinks, Mei turned to me. “So, what brings you to London so often?”
I welcomed the distraction. “I work for a tech company. We’re expanding our European operations.”
“Sounds exciting,” Mei said. “Any favorite spots in the city?”
We spent the next hour chatting about London, our jobs, and travel stories. It was a pleasant diversion from my gnawing guilt.
Halfway through the flight, I excused myself to use the restroom. While waiting in line, I overheard a conversation that made my stomach drop.
“Yeah, some lady missed her flight because someone gave her the wrong gate number,” a man said. “She was raising hell at customer service when I left.”
The color drained from my face. I had caused her to miss her flight.
Back in my seat, Mei noticed my pale face. “Are you okay? You look a bit off.”
I considered lying, but the guilt was overwhelming. “Can I tell you something? Promise not to judge?”
Mei nodded, serious.
I took a deep breath and confessed everything—the dog incident, my anger, the false gate information. By the end, I felt like the worst person in the world.
Mei was quiet for a moment before saying, “Well, that was certainly… creative.”
I groaned. “I’m a terrible person, aren’t I?”
“No,” Mei said firmly. “You made a mistake, but terrible people don’t feel remorse.”
Her words were kind, but they didn’t erase my guilt. “What should I do?”
Mei thought for a moment. “You can’t undo what’s done, but maybe this can be a turning point. A reminder to think before you act, even when you’re angry.”
I nodded slowly. “You’re right. I just hope she learned something too.”
“Maybe she did,” Mei said. “Sometimes it takes a shock to make us realize our behavior isn’t okay.”
As we descended into London, I made a silent promise to use this experience as a lesson. I’d strive to be better, even in the face of difficult people.
The plane touched down, and as we taxied to the gate, Mei turned to me one last time. “Remember, Nora, we’re all works in progress. The important thing is to keep trying to improve.”
I smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Mei. For listening and for your wisdom.”
As we disembarked, I scanned the airport, half-expecting to see the woman from Vegas. She wasn’t there, but the memory of her, and my actions, would stay with me for a long time.
I didn’t know if she made it back before we took off, but I hadn’t seen her aboard. Missing her flight wasn’t my original goal, but it felt like the universe had balanced the scales for her behavior.
Yet as I walked through the airport, I realized that justice and karma don’t always balance neatly. Sometimes, we’re left to find our own equilibrium amid the chaos of human interactions.
What would you have done?
