On a recent flight, a middle-aged man spilled whiskey on my laptop and dismissed my frustration with a smirk. I was furious but chose to stay silent. Little did he know, karma was waiting at 30,000 feet.

I’m Becca, a 26-year-old freelance graphic designer. My laptop is essential for my work, and I was flying to visit my ailing grandmother, who had been a crucial source of support in my life.

The man, seated next to me, had been curt and dismissive from the start. When he spilled his drink, it soaked my laptop, rendering it unusable. His response was to smirk and suggest I “cry about it.”

Later, an announcement revealed that severe weather had canceled connecting flights. The man, who had been so confident, was now frantic, desperately trying to salvage his plans. I calmly rebooked my flight, feeling a quiet satisfaction as I watched his panic unfold.