“Any favorite spots in the city?”
We spent the next hour chatting about London, our jobs, and travel stories. It was a pleasant diversion from my gnawing guilt. Halfway through the flight, I excused myself to use the restroom.
As I waited in line, I overheard a conversation that made my stomach drop. “Yeah, some lady missed her flight because someone gave her the wrong gate number,” a man was saying. “She was raising hell at customer service when I left.”
I felt the color drain from my face.
It was real now. I actually caused her to miss her flight. Back in my seat, I must have looked as bad as I felt because Mei asked, “Are you okay?
You look a bit pale.”
I considered lying, but the guilt was eating me up. “Can I tell you something? Promise not to judge?”
Mei nodded, her expression serious.
I took a deep breath and spilled everything. The dog incident, my anger, the false gate information. By the time I finished, I felt like the worst person in the world.
Mei was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “Well, that was certainly…
creative.”
I groaned. “I’m a terrible person, aren’t I?”
“No,” Mei said firmly.
“You made a mistake, yes. But terrible people don’t feel bad about their actions.”
Her words were kind, but they didn’t erase my guilt. “What should I do?”
Mei thought for a moment.
“Well, you can’t undo what’s done. But maybe this can be a turning point. A reminder to think before you act, even when you’re angry.”
I nodded slowly.
“You’re right. I just hope she learned something too.”
“Maybe she did,” Mei said. “Sometimes it takes a shock to make us realize our behavior isn’t okay.”
As we began our descent into London, I made a silent promise to myself.
I’d use this experience as a lesson, a reminder to be better, even when faced with difficult people. The plane touched down, and as we taxied to the gate, Mei turned to me one last time. “Remember, Nora, we’re all works in progress.
The important thing is to keep trying to be better.”
I smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Mei. For listening and for the wisdom.”
As we disembarked, I couldn’t help but scan the faces in the airport, half expecting to see the woman from Vegas.
She wasn’t there, of course, but the memory of her, and my actions, would stay with me for a long time. I didn’t know if she’d made it back before we took off, but I hadn’t seen her aboard, and I hadn’t heard her dog. Missing her flight wasn’t my original intention, but it felt like the universe balancing the scales for her appalling behavior.
Yet as I walked through the airport, I realized the scales don’t always balance so neatly. Sometimes, they just keep tipping, leaving us to find our equilibrium in the chaos of human interactions.
