One woman thought she would have just another ordinary flight, but a surprising act of audacity from the passenger seated beside her led to an unexpected twist. The flight didn’t end the way either of them had planned.

So there I was boarding yet another flight from New York to Los Angeles, ready for what I hoped would be a smooth and uneventful journey. As a 35-year-old marketing consultant, I travel a lot for work, so I’ve learned to navigate airports and flights like a pro.

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 timed down to the minute. I couldn’t afford any delays.

I’d planned everything meticulously, even choosing an aisle seat for a quick exit. As I approached my row, I noticed the man in the window seat was already settled in.

He was in his early 40s, with an air of self-importance that was hard to miss. He wore a neatly pressed button-down shirt, nice slacks, and polished shoes. He kept glancing at his expensive watch, like he had somewhere more important to be, and barely looked up when I sat down.

No big deal, I thought. I just wanted a peaceful flight, maybe grab a few minutes to look over my notes for the meeting in San Diego. But I had no idea that this guy was about to turn my straightforward trip into a mini-nightmare.

About halfway through the flight, the flight attendants started serving dinner. Now, I’d been so busy prepping for the conference that I hadn’t had a chance to eat all day. By the time the meal service started, I was starving.

As soon as I smelled the food, my stomach rumbled, reminding me just how hungry I was. I couldn’t wait to eat, go over my notes, and maybe even catch a short nap before landing.

But then nature called. I glanced at the aisle, hoping the food cart was still a few rows away. It was, so I figured I had just enough time for a quick trip to the restroom. I excused myself, careful not to disturb Mr. Important too much, and hurried to the back of the plane.

When I got to the restroom, I realized there was a line. Great, just what I needed! I checked my watch anxiously. The minutes ticked by, and the line didn’t move as quickly as I’d hoped. By the time it was finally my turn, I was practically tapping my foot with impatience. I knew the meal service was happening, and I didn’t want to miss it.

When I finally made it back to my seat, I was greeted by an unbelievable sight: my meal tray was gone! And the guy next to me was happily digging into his second meal!

“Uh, did they bring my meal while I was gone?” I asked, even though the answer was obvious.

He looked up from his tray, not even bothering to hide the smug smile on his face. “Oh, 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, still chewing. “I was still hungry after mine, and you weren’t here. You can just grab something at the airport when we land.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I’d heard of entitled people, but this was a whole new level. I stood there for a moment, at a complete loss for words. Who does that?

“Are you serious right now?” I asked, more to myself than to him, still hoping this was some kind of bizarre joke.

He just shrugged, completely unfazed. “Relax, it’s just airplane food.”

Feeling a mix of anger and disbelief, I hit the call button and asked the flight attendant if there were any meals left. She gave me an apologetic smile and said, “I’m so sorry, but we’ve run out of meals. Would you like some pretzels instead?”

Pretzels? That wasn’t exactly going to cut it, but what could I do? I took the tiny bag of pretzels, feeling defeated and increasingly annoyed at my seatmate’s sheer audacity.

Meanwhile, Mr. Important polished off both meals, leaned back in his seat, and promptly fell asleep, looking as satisfied as a cat who’d just caught a mouse.

I tried to focus on my work, nibbling on the pretzels and glaring at the man now softly snoring beside me. My stomach growled in protest, but I forced myself to concentrate on my notes.

I reminded myself that I had a tight connection to worry about, and I couldn’t afford to let this jerk ruin my day. I kept checking my watch, counting down the minutes until we landed.

As we started our descent into LA, the flight attendants made the usual announcements about landing and connecting flights. The reminder about tight connections snapped me out of my frustration and back into work mode. I glanced over at my seatmate. He was still out cold, completely oblivious to the world.

The plane touched down, and as soon as it did, I grabbed my bag, ready to make a dash for my next gate. But just as I stood up, I heard one of the flight attendants making an important announcement: “Attention, passengers connecting to San Diego. There’s been a last-minute gate change. You’ll need to head to Terminal 4, Gate 45, as quickly as possible.”

Great, I thought. Just what I needed—a gate change. I turned to leave when I glanced at Mr. Important, still snoring away. I actually debated whether to wake him up. I mean, sure, he’d eaten my meal and been a complete jerk, but did that mean I should just leave him to miss his connection?

As I reached for my bag in the overhead bin, I decided to nudge him lightly. “Hey, we’ve landed,” I said, keeping my voice low so as not to disturb anyone else.

Nothing. He didn’t even stir.

I nudged him a bit harder. “You might want to wake up; we’ve landed, and there’s a gate change.”

This time, he mumbled something unintelligible in his sleep and turned his head the other way, clearly not ready to wake up. I figured the general commotion of people disembarking would eventually wake him up, and besides, I really needed to get to my next gate.

I couldn’t afford to miss my flight. So I left him there, still fast asleep, and hurried off the plane.

The terminal was bustling with people, and I had to weave through the crowd to make it to my new gate. By the time I got there, they were already boarding. I managed to make it just in time, and as I settled into my seat, I finally felt a wave of relief. I was on my way to San Diego, and I had a moment to breathe.

It wasn’t until I arrived in San Diego and met up with my colleagues that I got the full story. As we were chatting about our flights, one of my coworkers, Lisa, mentioned that she had seen someone who sounded very familiar.

“I swear, there was this guy at LAX who looked like he’d just woken up from a coma,” Lisa said, laughing. “He was stumbling off the plane, looking completely disoriented. I overheard him arguing with a gate agent because he missed his connection. Apparently, he was asleep when they announced the gate change, and by the time he woke up, it was too late.”

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

Lisa described him — a man in his early 40s, wearing a slightly wrinkled button-down shirt, slacks, and polished shoes, with an expensive watch that he kept checking as he argued with the gate agent. His hair was a mess, and he looked both frazzled and furious.

There was no doubt in my mind that it was him.

“Oh, that guy!” I said, unable to keep the satisfaction out of my voice. “Yeah, he was seated next to me. Can you believe he ate my meal while I was in the restroom and then fell asleep? I tried to wake him up, but he didn’t budge.”

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

I couldn’t agree more. As much as I’d been frustrated by the whole ordeal, there was something deeply satisfying about knowing that karma had stepped in. While I made it to my meeting on time, Mr. Important was stuck in LA, missing his connections and probably regretting his decision to indulge in both meals.

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