I was on a flight from New York to LA, heading to a tight business connection in San Diego. As someone who travels often, I had everything planned

— even picked an aisle seat for a quick exit. The man next to me, dressed like he thought he owned the plane, barely acknowledged me.

Mid-flight, I slipped away to the restroom, hoping to be back before the food came. There was a line, of course,

and by the time I returned, my meal tray was gone — and this arrogant guy was polishing off a second dinner.

“I figured you didn’t want it,” he said, smirking. “Didn’t want it to go to waste.” I was stunned.

I hadn’t eaten all day, and now I was left with a tiny bag of pretzels.

He fell asleep after his feast, snoring like nothing happened. I hit my limit — but I also had no time to waste.

When we landed, the airline announced a last-minute gate change for the San Diego flight. I tried to wake him.

Twice. He didn’t budge. I left him there and sprinted across the terminal.

Later, at the conference, a coworker described a man at LAX who looked freshly hit by a truck — panicked, arguing

with the gate agent after missing his flight. Same polished shoes, same expensive watch. Yep. It was him.

I may have missed a meal, but he missed his connection. Karma served cold — no tray required.