When a middle-aged man spilled whiskey on my laptop mid-flight and dismissed my frustration with a smirk, I was furious but stayed silent. Little did he know, karma was waiting for him at 30,000 feet, and I had the perfect response when his arrogance turned to desperation.
It’s said that karma has a way of balancing the scales, and I never believed it more than on this particular flight. My name is Becca, and I’m 26 years old. I work as a freelance graphic designer, which means my laptop is like an extension of myself.
Today, I was on a flight to visit my grandmother. She’s been in and out of the hospital for weeks, and the doctors aren’t sure how much time she has left.
My grandmother and I have always been close. Growing up, I spent most weekends at her house, listening to stories about her childhood and the adventures she had.
She’d make us tea, and we’d sit on her porch swing, laughing about things that didn’t seem to matter to anyone else but us. When I was struggling to figure out what I wanted to do with my life, she was the one who encouraged me to pursue graphic design.
So when I heard that her condition was getting worse, I knew I had to be there. I needed to see her, hold her hand, and remind her of the stories we shared. The worry about her health was like a heavy weight on my chest, making it hard to breathe.
I finally found my seat near the window and sighed with relief. I put my laptop bag under the seat in front of me and sat down. As I was buckling my seatbelt, I noticed the man who would be sitting next to me.
He looked to be in his mid-fifties, with graying hair and a suit that screamed business. He barely glanced at me as he squeezed past to take his seat.
“Excuse me,” he muttered, not making eye contact. His voice was gruff, and there was a hint of impatience in his tone. He settled into his seat, immediately pulling out his phone and ignoring everything else around him.
I tried to brush it off. After all, we were all just trying to get through the flight. Maybe he was dealing with his own issues. I took out my laptop, planning to finish some work. It was a good distraction from the stress that had been building up over the last few days. I put in my earbuds and started typing, losing myself in the work.
About an hour into the flight, I was finally making some progress when the man next to me flagged down a flight attendant.
“I’ll take a whiskey, neat,” he said, his tone clipped and demanding.
I kept working, trying not to let his attitude bother me. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw the flight attendant hand him the drink. He took it without a word of thanks.
I thought nothing more of it until I heard the sound of liquid splashing. In a split second, I felt something cold and wet all over my lap and laptop.
I gasped, quickly lifting my laptop to save it from the spill. My hands were shaking as I turned to look at the man. The whiskey had spilled everywhere—on my jeans, on the seat, and my laptop took the worst hit.