During a flight to visit my ailing grandmother, my peaceful journey was disrupted by a middle-aged man who carelessly spilled whiskey on my laptop. I watched in frustration as he smirked and dismissed my anger with a condescending, “What are you going to do, cry about it?” His lack of remorse only added to my distress as I realized my laptop was ruined.

As the flight continued, the captain announced that severe weather had canceled all connecting flights. The man’s confident demeanor evaporated into panic. He was now a picture of desperation, scrambling to find a solution for his missed meeting.

I remained calm, focusing on rebooking my flight to ensure I could still see my grandmother. The man, noticing my progress, approached me in a state of frantic anxiety, begging to use my phone. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of justice in the irony of the situation. Remembering his earlier dismissiveness, I calmly refused his request with a smirk of my own, saying, “No, I’m afraid I can’t help you. Why don’t you go cry about it?”

As the plane landed, the man rushed off, still flustered and desperate. I took my time, feeling oddly at peace despite the ruined laptop. While his arrogance met its own form of karma, I was focused on the important things, knowing that my grandmother’s presence was what truly mattered.