“The Flight from Hell — and the Perfect Landing”
ME: “What are you doing? Calm down, kid!”
TEEN (mocking me while still throwing chips at me from the next seat): “Calm down, kid! Calm down!”
ME: “Excuse me, are you this kid’s father?”
FATHER (laughing while holding up his phone): “Hold on, I’m recording this! Can you say ‘Calm down, kid!’ one more time?”
I clenched my jaw. I’m not one for confrontation, so instead of snapping back, I flagged down the flight attendant and asked if I could change seats. Thankfully, she moved me far away, and I spent the rest of the flight in peace—though my mind kept circling the same thought: Some people think a plane ticket comes with a license to treat others like dirt.
We landed. I assumed I’d never see them again.
But karma? Karma’s got frequent flyer miles.
That very afternoon, I walked into my lawyer’s office for a meeting about a property sale. Guess who was sitting in the waiting area? The chip-throwing teen and his smug father—now with a very different expression.
They froze when they saw me.
“Mr. Pearson,” my lawyer called from her office, “I see you’ve already met opposing counsel’s client.”
Opposing. Counsel. Client.
The father’s smirk drained from his face faster than an airplane’s coffee pot after turbulence.