One woman thought her flight would be just another routine trip, but the passenger seated beside her had other plans. His unexpected act of selfishness led to an unforeseen twist, and the journey ended in a way neither of them could have predicted.

It started like any other business trip for me. I boarded the plane from New York to Los Angeles, thinking it was going to be just another flight. As a 35-year-old marketing consultant, I traveled a lot for work. Airports and flights were almost like a second home to me.

This time, I was on my way to a big conference in LA, with a tight connection to San Diego for a pre-conference meeting. Everything was planned down to the minute—I couldn’t afford any delays.

I had even chosen an aisle seat so I could exit the plane quickly. As I walked to my row, I noticed the man sitting by the window was already settled in. He was in his early 40s, with an air of arrogance 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, barely giving me a nod as I sat down.

“No big deal,” I thought. I just wanted a quiet flight where I could review my notes for the meeting in San Diego and maybe catch a little nap before we landed. But I had no idea this man would turn my straightforward trip into a total mess.

About halfway through the flight, the attendants began serving dinner. I hadn’t eaten all day, and by the time they started, I was starving. The smell of the food made my stomach rumble, and I couldn’t wait to eat, go over my notes, and hopefully get some rest.

But then, I felt the urge to use the restroom. I glanced down the aisle and saw the food cart still a few rows away. Thinking I had just enough time, I excused myself and headed to the back, trying not to disturb Mr. Important too much.

When I got to the back of the plane, I saw there was a line for the restroom. Just my luck! I checked my watch nervously as the minutes ticked by. By the time it was finally my turn, I was practically bouncing on my feet, worried I’d miss the meal service.

When I returned to my seat, I couldn’t believe my eyes: my meal tray was gone, and the man beside me was happily eating his second meal.

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

He looked up from his tray with a smug smile. “Oh, yeah. You were taking too long, so I figured you didn’t want it. Didn’t want it to go to waste,” he said casually.

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

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

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I’d heard of people being entitled, but this was a whole new level. Who does that?

“Are you serious right now?” I muttered, mostly to myself, hoping this was some kind of joke.

He just shrugged and said, “Relax, it’s just airplane food.”

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

Pretzels? That wasn’t going to do it, but I didn’t have much of a choice. I took the tiny bag of pretzels, feeling defeated and growing more annoyed by the minute.

Meanwhile, Mr. Important finished both meals, leaned back in his seat, and promptly fell asleep, looking as pleased as a cat that just caught a mouse.

I tried to focus on my work, nibbling on the pretzels and shooting occasional glares at the man who was now softly snoring beside me. My stomach growled in protest, but I forced myself to concentrate on my notes. I had a tight connection to worry about and couldn’t let this jerk ruin my day. I kept checking my watch, counting down the minutes until we landed.

As we began our descent into LA, the flight attendants made the usual announcements about landing and connecting flights. Hearing them reminded me I needed to get back into work mode. I glanced at my seatmate, who was still out cold, totally oblivious to the world.

The plane touched down, and as soon as it did, I grabbed my bag, ready to dash to my next gate. But just as I stood up, I heard a flight attendant’s announcement: “Attention, passengers connecting to San Diego. There’s been a last-minute gate change. Please head to Terminal 4, Gate 45, as quickly as possible.”

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

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

Nothing. He didn’t even move.

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 I couldn’t understand and turned his head away, clearly not ready to wake up. Figuring the noise around us would eventually wake him, I decided to focus on my own connection. I couldn’t afford to miss my flight, so I hurried off the plane.

The terminal was packed with people, and I had to weave through the crowd to get to my new gate. By the time I got there, they were already boarding. I made it just in time, and as I settled into my seat, a wave of relief washed over me. I was on my way to San Diego, and I finally had a moment to relax.

It wasn’t until I arrived in San Diego and met up with my colleagues that I got the full story. As we chatted about our flights, one of my coworkers, Lisa, mentioned seeing someone who looked familiar.

“There was this guy at LAX who looked like he’d just woken up from a coma,” Lisa laughed. “He was stumbling off the plane, completely out of it. 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 perfectly—a man in his early 40s, wearing a slightly wrinkled button-down shirt, slacks, and polished shoes, with an expensive watch he kept checking as he argued with the gate agent. His hair was a mess, and he looked both frazzled and furious.

I knew instantly it was him.

“Oh, that guy!” I said, satisfaction spreading through me. “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, but he wouldn’t budge.”

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

I couldn’t agree more. As frustrating as the whole ordeal had been, there was something deeply satisfying about knowing karma had caught up with him. While I made it to my meeting on time, Mr. Important was stuck in LA, missing his connections and probably regretting his choice to eat both meals.

Sometimes, what goes around really does come around. And in this case, karma made sure it didn’t slip by unnoticed.