When Entitlement Meets the Airport: A Story of Patience, Humor, and Justice

Airports are notorious for their chaos—delays, long lines, and the unmistakable feeling of being herded like cattle through a maze of security checks and boarding procedures. But every once in a while, an encounter with an entitled traveler can turn an ordinary, frustrating day into something much more memorable. What began as a simple flight turned into a story I will never forget. It was a story of patience, justice, and a little bit of personal satisfaction, as I finally gave an entitled dog owner a taste of her own medicine.

I’m Jake, 42 years old, and I was at JFK Airport on my way to Rome. My wife, Rachel, and our daughter, Ellie, had said their goodbyes at the gate, and I was left to navigate the typical madness of airport life alone. As someone who’s used to the noise and crowd of an airport, nothing really phased me anymore. I had my headphones in, my coffee in hand, and I was prepared for the usual delays and inconveniences that come with air travel. But nothing could have prepared me for the disruption that came next—the woman in the red coat.

The First Encounter: An Airport Turned Into a Circus

It all started with a simple voice. A loud voice. The kind that cuts through the drone of background noise like a sharp knife. I was minding my business, grabbing a coffee when I heard the unmistakable tones of a woman on her phone. Her voice wasn’t just loud; it was sharp, cutting through the typical airport hum like a car alarm.

“Yeah, yeah, I told her I wasn’t gonna do that. It’s not my job. I don’t care if she cries.”

The entire terminal seemed to pause for a moment. People turned their heads, their eyes narrowing with confusion, curiosity, and mild irritation. There, near the Hudson News store, was a woman in a bright red coat. She was holding her phone up in front of her face, FaceTiming without headphones. Her voice, despite the crowded terminal, dominated the scene, making it impossible for anyone to ignore.

But it wasn’t just her volume that caught everyone’s attention. Behind her, a small, fluffy white dog was squatting in the middle of the terminal. The dog’s rhinestone collar glittered under the harsh fluorescent lights as it did its business, completely oblivious to the surrounding crowd.

I watched in disbelief as an elderly man, with a kind but concerned expression, stepped forward and politely addressed the situation.

“Excuse me, miss?” He motioned toward the mess forming on the floor. “Your dog…”

Before he could finish his sentence, the woman snapped back without missing a beat, still engaged in her phone conversation.

“Some people are so damn rude,” she muttered, her eyes never leaving the screen. She turned to the elderly man, rolling her eyes. “Ugh, this guy’s staring at me like I just murdered someone. Mind your business, Grandpa.”

The crowd around us gasped in shock, some covering their mouths in disbelief. One mother, standing nearby, even shielded her child’s eyes as if the scene was too disturbing to witness.

Another traveler, clearly fed up, spoke up. “Ma’am! You’re not going to clean that up?”

The woman didn’t even flinch. She tossed her hand in the air as though waving away the problem. “They have people for that,” she said dismissively, not even bothering to look at the growing crowd that had gathered to witness her behavior.

Stunned silence followed her words, as if everyone was processing the audacity of what had just happened. People exchanged glances, shaking their heads, but no one spoke up further. This was JFK Airport, after all, and many of us were too used to the chaos of travel to make a scene. But I could tell that something had shifted in the atmosphere—this wasn’t just another rude traveler; this was someone who thought the world revolved around her.

The Next Round: TSA Troubles and a Dog in Disarray

As I made my way through the security line later on, I saw her again. There she was, the woman in the red coat, holding her phone up as she bulldozed her way through the TSA line. She shoved past people, completely ignoring the line and dropping her tote bag at the front, as if she owned the place.

“Ma’am, you need to wait your turn,” the TSA agent said firmly.

“I have PreCheck,” she snapped back, not even looking up. “And my dog gets anxious.”

The agent, unfazed by her behavior, pointed to the correct line. “That’s not the PreCheck line,” he explained calmly, but the woman didn’t take kindly to the suggestion.

“Well, I’m going through anyway,” she said dismissively.

Behind her, someone muttered, “Unreal.”

The interactions only became more absurd. When she got to the shoes-off section, the TSA agent instructed her to remove her boots.

“I’m TSA-friendly. They’re slides,” she insisted, her voice growing louder.

“They’re boots, ma’am,” the agent corrected.

The woman threw her hands up in frustration. “I’ll sue,” she threatened, still refusing to comply.

Eventually, she reluctantly removed her boots, all the while muttering about how the process was unfair and how she was being treated like “everyone else.” Her dog barked incessantly at every person who passed by, including a baby in a stroller, an elderly man with a cane, and even a rolling suitcase. The barking was relentless, and no one seemed to be able to get her to calm the dog.

At the coffee stand, it was more of the same. She ordered a drink, and when the barista asked her about milk preferences, she exploded.

“No, I said almond milk. Are you deaf?” she demanded, not even bothering to pause her phone call.

“We only have oat or soy right now,” the barista explained.

“I said almond!” she yelled, glaring at the poor worker.

“We can refund you,” another employee offered, trying to de-escalate the situation.

“Forget it. You people are impossible,” she said, snatching her drink and storming off, still blaring music from her phone speakers, once again without headphones. It didn’t seem to faze her that everyone around her could hear her playlist, which was now blasting with a vengeance.

The Gate: The Final Showdown

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I reached my gate. I was ready to settle in for a long wait before boarding my flight to Rome. But, of course, there she was again.

The woman in the red coat was sprawled out across three seats, her legs stretched over one chair, her bag on another, and her dog occupying the third. The dog was still barking at anything that moved. She was still on FaceTime with someone, her voice cutting through the terminal, and the noise of her dog seemed to echo in every corner.

I could hear the frustrated murmurs of those around her—disgruntled passengers who were trying to find somewhere to sit or concentrate on their phones. People were avoiding her like the plague, and I didn’t blame them. The woman was a nightmare for everyone in her vicinity.

I could feel the tension building, and it seemed to grow thicker with each passing minute. I knew what I had to do.

The Moment of Revenge

I walked over and sat down beside her.

She glanced over at me, eyes narrowed, as if trying to size me up. “Long wait, huh?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

She didn’t respond. Instead, the dog barked at my shoe, sending a jolt of irritation through my body.

“Cute little guy,” I said, my voice steady but with a touch of sarcasm.

“He doesn’t like strangers,” she muttered, not looking at me.

“I get it,” I said with a nod. “Airports bring out the worst in everyone.”

She didn’t respond. Instead, she went back to yelling into her phone, oblivious to the world around her. I glanced around at the others in the gate area, their faces a mix of exhaustion and quiet hope. Everyone was waiting for something to change. And in that moment, I knew exactly how to make that happen.

I stayed quiet for a while, letting the chaos swirl around us. Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard, scratching at my nerves. The dog was still barking non-stop, now chewing on a plastic straw wrapper that someone had carelessly left behind. She didn’t seem to care, and no one else dared to say anything.

I looked around again. There was an elderly couple near the window, the man holding a cane across his lap while his wife held a boarding pass tightly in her hands. They looked frail, weary. The dog barked twice in their direction, the sound sharp and unrelenting. The couple winced, the wife covering her ears as the man slowly stood, his cane tapping the ground.

They moved away, not a word exchanged, and in that moment, something snapped in me. I couldn’t just sit there and do nothing.

I stood up, walked away from her, and pretended to stretch. I made a show of looking out the window, casually leaning against the gate. The woman, still engrossed in her phone call, didn’t notice me slip away. I waited just long enough for her to think I had left.

Then, I came back. I sat down beside her again, casually pulling out my phone and scrolling through it like we were old friends.

“Flying to Paris for fun?” I asked, as if we had been having a conversation all along.

She stopped mid-sentence. “What?” she asked, finally giving me her attention.

“Paris,” I said, nodding toward the gate. “Are you going for work or vacation?”

She scoffed. “I’m going to Rome.”

I glanced at the gate monitor, which clearly said “ROME – ON TIME.” Then, with a knowing look, I tapped my phone and pretended to read something.

“That’s weird,” I said, frowning. “They just sent a push alert saying they moved the Rome flight to gate 14B. This gate is for Paris now.”

She frowned, looking up at the monitor. “What?”

“Yeah,” I said, scrolling through my phone. “They must’ve switched it last minute. You better hurry, 14B is kind of far.”

She glanced at the monitor, then back at me, then back at her phone. She didn’t question it. Without another word, she grabbed her things—dog included—and hurried toward the gate, barking complaints the entire time.

The Victory

I sat back in my seat, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction wash over me. The chaos around me had suddenly quieted. No more barking. No more screaming into the phone. Just peace.

And as she disappeared into the crowd, I heard a soft chuckle from a few of the passengers around me. Someone near the back gave me a thumbs-up. Another passenger raised their coffee cup in quiet acknowledgment. The tension in the room seemed to melt away, replaced by a quiet sense of relief.

A few claps echoed from the back of the room, tentative at first, but growing as others joined in. The entire gate seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. Even the gate agent, who had watched the whole exchange, looked like she might be grinning behind her mask.

For once, the entitled traveler didn’t get her way. And the rest of us were reminded that sometimes, the most powerful thing we can do is stand up to the storm.