Entitled Woman Lets Her Dog Poop on The Airport Floor & Rudely Orders Staff to Clean It – So I Taught Her an Unforgettable Lesson
Airports are fascinating places. They’re hubs of human activity, where lives intersect in fleeting moments, and where the best and worst of human behavior often come to the fore. On one particularly hectic travel day, I encountered a situation that tested my patience and my principles in ways I hadn’t anticipated.
It began as a typical day at the airport. I had just passed through security and was looking forward to a quiet wait at my gate before boarding my flight to London. The terminal was bustling, filled with the usual mix of anxious travelers, families, and businesspeople. Amidst this crowd, I noticed a woman who immediately stood out—not because of her appearance, but because of her behavior.
She was dressed expensively, with a small dog trotting alongside her. The dog, a yappy little thing, didn’t seem to bother her much, but it quickly became clear that she had little concern for the people around her. As I watched, the dog squatted and relieved itself right in the middle of the terminal walkway. To my amazement, the woman didn’t even flinch. Instead of cleaning up after her pet, she looked around as if expecting someone else to do it for her. Sure enough, she called over a passing airport staff member and, in a tone dripping with entitlement, demanded that they clean up the mess.
The staff member, a young man probably in his early twenties, looked both embarrassed and frustrated. He tried to explain that it was her responsibility to clean up after her dog, but she cut him off with a sharp rebuke, insisting that it was his job. As the confrontation unfolded, I felt a growing sense of anger. It wasn’t just about the dog poop or her rudeness—it was the sheer entitlement, the assumption that she was above the rules that the rest of us follow.
Before I could say anything, the young staff member, likely eager to avoid further conflict, reluctantly fetched cleaning supplies and began to clean the mess. The woman, meanwhile, resumed her stroll as if nothing had happened, her dog yapping happily at her heels. As she walked away, I caught her eye, and she gave me a haughty look, as if daring me to challenge her. The encounter left me fuming.
I made my way to my gate, still stewing over what I had witnessed. As I waited for my flight, I couldn’t help but notice the woman again, this time seated near my gate. Her dog was barking incessantly, adding to the already chaotic atmosphere of the terminal. As if that wasn’t enough, she was now blasting music from her phone without headphones, completely oblivious to the annoyed looks she was receiving from other passengers.
Most people moved away from her, unwilling to engage, but I had a different idea. Fueled by my lingering anger, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I approached her and, in a tone that was overly friendly, asked, “Are you going to Tokyo on business?”
She barely glanced at me, clearly irritated by the interruption. “I’m going to London,” she snapped, her tone making it clear that she had no interest in conversation.
Feigning surprise, I widened my eyes. “Oh no! Then you better hurry. That flight got moved to gate 53C. This is the flight to Tokyo.”
Her eyes bulged in panic. Without even checking the monitor, she grabbed her bags and her dog and stormed off, heading in the direction I had pointed. I watched her go, a small grin of satisfaction creeping across my face. The gate monitor still clearly displayed “London,” but in her rush and arrogance, she hadn’t even bothered to confirm it.
As boarding time approached, I kept an eye out for her return. The final call for our flight came and went, but there was no sign of her or her yappy dog. I settled into my seat, feeling a strange mix of satisfaction and guilt. As the plane began to taxi, I realized she must have missed the flight. The thought brought a brief moment of triumph, but it was quickly followed by a nagging doubt. Had I gone too far?
The woman seated next to me, who introduced herself as Mei, must have noticed my unease. “First time flying to London?” she asked, trying to make small talk.
“No, I go for work pretty often,” I replied, forcing a smile. “I’m Nora.”
“Mei,” she said with a warm smile. “I noticed that commotion earlier with the woman and her dog. Did you see her get on?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think she made it back in time.”
Mei’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really? Wow, that’s… unfortunate.”
I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “Yeah, well… karma, I guess.”
Mei nodded slowly, but her expression was thoughtful. “I suppose. Still, it seems a bit harsh. Missing a flight is a big deal.”
Her words made me squirm in my seat. Had I really taught her a lesson, or had I just stooped to her level? The satisfaction I had felt earlier was fading, replaced by a growing sense of guilt. I tried to push the thoughts aside, focusing instead on the upcoming trip and my work in London. But Mei’s words kept echoing in my mind.
Halfway through the flight, I excused myself to use the restroom. As I waited in line, I overheard a conversation between two men that made my stomach drop. “Yeah, some lady missed her flight because someone gave her the wrong gate number,” one of them was saying. “She was raising hell at customer service when I left.”
I felt the color drain from my face. The reality of what I had done hit me like a ton of bricks. It wasn’t just a harmless prank—I had actually caused her to miss her flight. Back in my seat, I must have looked as bad as I felt because Mei turned to me, concern in her eyes. “Are you okay? You look a bit pale.”
I considered lying, but the guilt was eating me up. I took a deep breath and decided to come clean. “Can I tell you something? Promise not to judge?”
Mei nodded, her expression serious.
I spilled everything—the dog incident, my anger, and how I had given the woman the wrong gate number out of spite. By the time I finished, I felt like the worst person in the world. Mei was quiet for a moment, clearly processing what I had said. Then she spoke, choosing her words carefully.
“Well, that was certainly… creative,” she said, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
I groaned, feeling even worse. “I’m a terrible person, aren’t I?”
“No,” Mei said firmly, her tone gentle but resolute. “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?” I asked, genuinely seeking her advice.
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, taking in her words. She was right. I had let my anger get the best of me, and it had led to a rash decision with serious consequences. “You’re right,” I admitted. “I just hope she learned something too.”
“Maybe she did,” Mei said thoughtfully. “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 would 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 at her wisdom. “Thanks, Mei. For listening and for the advice.”
As we disembarked, I couldn’t help but scan the faces in the airport, half-expecting to see the woman from the terminal. 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 had made it back to our gate 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 that 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. This experience taught me that while it’s important to stand up for what’s right, it’s equally important to do so with integrity and thoughtfulness. We’re all human, prone to mistakes, but it’s how we learn from them that truly matters.
