They say karma has a way of balancing the scales, and I never believed it more than on this particular flight. My name is Becca, I’m 26 years old, and I work as a freelance graphic designer. For me, my laptop isn’t just a tool—it’s an extension of myself.
That day, I was on a flight to visit my grandmother. She’d been in and out of the hospital for weeks, and the doctors weren’t sure how much time she had left. My grandmother and I have always been close. As a child, I spent countless weekends at her house, listening to her stories about her adventurous youth. She was my greatest supporter, the one who encouraged me to pursue graphic design when I was unsure about my future. When I heard her condition had worsened, I knew I had to be there—to hold her hand and remind her of the memories we shared.

After finding my seat by the window, I sighed with relief. Placing my laptop bag under the seat in front of me, I settled in and noticed the man who would be sitting next to me. He looked to be in his 50s, dressed in a sharp suit that screamed business. Without even glancing my way, he squeezed into his seat.
“Excuse me,” he mumbled gruffly, barely making eye contact.
I tried to ignore him, chalking up his demeanor to a bad day. After all, we all have our struggles. I pulled out my laptop, hoping to lose myself in work to distract from my worries.
About an hour into the flight, I was finally making progress on a project when the man called for a flight attendant. “I’ll have a whiskey, straight,” he barked impatiently. Moments later, the drink arrived. He grabbed it without so much as a thank you. I tried not to let his attitude bother me and refocused on my work. But then, disaster struck.
I heard the unmistakable sound of liquid spilling and felt something cold and wet soaking my lap. My laptop was drenched.
I gasped, quickly lifting my laptop in a futile attempt to save it. The screen flickered, and the keyboard was soaked. My hands trembled as I turned to him.
“You could at least apologize,” I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. “You’ve ruined my laptop!”
He smirked, an infuriatingly smug expression on his face. “What are you going to do, cry about it?” he sneered, dismissing me entirely before returning to his phone.
I stared at him, stunned. My laptop—my lifeline—was destroyed, and he couldn’t care less. Anger bubbled inside me, but I held back my tears.
The rest of the flight passed in a blur of frustration. I couldn’t focus on anything except my ruined laptop and his infuriating attitude. But as we began our descent, the captain’s voice crackled over the intercom: “Ladies and gentlemen, due to severe weather, all connecting flights have been canceled. Please check with the gate agent for rebooking options upon landing.”
A collective groan filled the cabin, but I wasn’t upset. My priority was reaching my grandmother. The man beside me, however, was a different story. His smug demeanor evaporated as panic set in. “This can’t be happening,” he muttered, fumbling with his phone. “I have an important meeting—I can’t miss it!”
As I calmly connected to the in-flight Wi-Fi to look for alternate flights, he leaned over, desperation written all over his face. “Hey, can I use your phone to rebook my flight? This meeting is critical.”
I looked at him, remembering his dismissive smirk and cruel words earlier. A calm sense of satisfaction washed over me as I replied, “Sorry, I can’t help you. Why don’t you cry about it?”
His eyes widened in shock. Before he could respond, I turned back to my phone, ignoring his pleas.
When the plane landed, chaos erupted as passengers scrambled to rebook their flights. The once-arrogant man was now a picture of anxiety, pacing and frantically trying to salvage his plans. Meanwhile, I calmly gathered my belongings, ready to focus on what truly mattered: being there for my grandmother. My laptop might have been destroyed, but I’d find a way to replace it. What couldn’t be replaced was the time I had left with her.
As I walked through the terminal, I couldn’t help but smile. Karma had a funny way of teaching lessons, and today, it had delivered its justice perfectly.
This experience reminded me of what truly matters in life: kindness, humility, and knowing when to let go of things you can’t control. My grandmother’s wisdom echoed in my mind: “Life has a way of balancing itself out, Becca. Trust it.”
And I do.