At Las Vegas Airport, I witnessed a woman’s shocking behavior with her dog that sparked a chain of events, leaving us both reflecting on justice and karma.
I arrived early, exhausted and craving coffee. While heading to my gate, I saw a woman with a small dog, engrossed in a FaceTime call, oblivious to her surroundings.
“Oh my God, Stacey, you won’t believe what happened last night,” she exclaimed loudly.
Just as I was about to move on, I noticed her dog squatting on the airport floor.
“Excuse me, miss?” a nearby man attempted to intervene. “Your dog is…”
The woman shot him a furious glare. “Some people are just so rude,” she replied, continuing her conversation.
To my disbelief, after the dog finished, she walked away, leaving the mess behind.
“Aren’t you going to clean that up?” another bystander asked, shocked.
Her response was dripping with entitlement: “They have people for that!” She then yelled at a nearby airport cleaner, demanding him to do his job.
The young worker stood frozen, embarrassed. I felt compelled to step in and comfort him. “Hey, you okay? That woman was way out of line,” I said.
“Thanks. I just don’t know how to handle that,” he replied.
After reassuring him, I moved to the mess, alerting others to watch their step. A kind stranger went to find maintenance.
“Can you believe that?” I asked the man who had tried to help earlier.
“Flying with pets is a privilege, not a right. Some people just don’t get it,” he replied.
I introduced myself to Jasper, and we shared a brief chat before parting ways. My anger lingered as I continued to my gate, and then I spotted her again—blasting music and letting her dog bark incessantly.
This time, I sat next to her. “Are you going to Tokyo on business?” I asked, feigning friendliness.
She snapped back, “I’m going to London.”
Feigning surprise, I said, “Oh no! You better hurry. That flight moved to gate 53C. This is the flight to Tokyo.”
Her eyes widened in panic, and she hurried off without checking the monitor.
As boarding approached, I kept an eye out, but there was no sign of her. I settled into my seat, feeling a mix of satisfaction and guilt.
The woman next to me, Mei, smiled. “First time flying to London?”
“No, I go for work often. I’m Nora.”
“I saw the commotion earlier. Did you see her get on?” Mei asked.
“Nope, I think she missed her flight,” I admitted, feeling a twinge of guilt.
“That’s unfortunate,” she said, making me squirm.
“Yeah, well… karma, I guess,” I replied.
Mei raised an eyebrow. “That seems a bit harsh. Missing a flight is a big deal.”
Her words made me reconsider. Had I gone too far? “You’re right. I just got so angry at how she treated everyone.”
As we flew, I couldn’t shake the thought of what I’d done. I overheard a passenger mention the woman raising hell at customer service because she missed her flight, and my stomach dropped.
“Are you okay? You look pale,” Mei said.
I confessed everything to her, feeling worse by the minute.
“Well, that was certainly… creative,” she said, after a pause.
“I’m terrible, aren’t I?” I lamented.
“No. You made a mistake. But terrible people don’t feel remorse,” she reassured me.
“What should I do?” I asked.
“Use this as a turning point. Remember to think before you act, even in anger,” she advised.
I nodded, silently promising to learn from this experience.
As we landed, Mei reminded me, “We’re all works in progress. Keep trying to be better.”
Grateful for her support, I smiled. I scanned the airport as we disembarked, half-expecting to see the woman again. I hadn’t, but her behavior—and my response—would stick with me.
In the end, I realized that life doesn’t always balance neatly; sometimes, we just have to find our equilibrium amidst the chaos.
What would you have done?
