When a rude stranger took my bus seat, I didn’t anticipate karma to strike him three times throughout our journey. As I watched his day collapse, I wondered if my final act of vengeance would be too much — or just the right lesson for him to learn.
I was having a decent day until I got on that bus. The stop was busy, with people vying for the first seat. I managed to get a seat, dumping my luggage to save it while assisting Mrs. Chen with her suitcase.
“Thank you, dear,” she said, patting my arm. “These old bones aren’t what they used to be.”
I smiled and returned to my seat, only to discover a suit-wearing jerk seated there, my bag thrown on the floor.
“Excuse me,” I said, trying to keep my cool. “That’s my seat.”
The man scarcely glanced up from his phone. “Don’t care. First come, first served.”
“But my bag was here. I was just helping someone —”
“Look, lady,” he snapped, finally meeting my eyes. “I’m not moving. Take your bag and find another seat.”
I was furious, but making a disturbance wouldn’t help. I grabbed my bag and stomped toward the center of the bus, mumbling under my breath. As I passed a young woman coping with a fussy infant, I smiled sympathetically.
The bus lurched ahead, so I grabbed a pole to keep myself stable. That’s when I heard it: the distinct wail of a newborn turned up to full volume. I couldn’t help but smirk as I noticed the entitled jerk’s shoulders tense.
He turned around and glared at the young mother. “Can’t you shut that kid up?”
The woman looked mortified. “I’m sorry, he’s teething. I’m doing my best.”
“Well, your best isn’t good enough,” he snapped.
I’d had enough. “Hey, buddy,” I called out. “How about you mind your own business? She’s doing what she can.”
He gave me a soiled look, then turned around. I caught the mother’s eye and said, “You’re doing great.” She gave me a grateful nod.
An older man sitting nearby leaned over to me. “Don’t let him get to you, dear. Some people just wake up on the wrong side of the bed.”
I chuckled. “More like the wrong side of life.”
For the next half hour, that infant served as a little, lovely instrument of karma. Every time the jerk dozed asleep, the tiny boy let out a piercing wail. But what about the real kicker? He began literally kicking.
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
The back of Jerk-face’s seat was getting a workout. I bit my lip to avoid laughing out loud.
“For the love of — can you control your child?” he snarled at the mom.
She looked close to tears. “I’m sorry, he’s just restless. It’s a long trip.”
I couldn’t help myself. “Hey, if you’d let me have my seat back, you wouldn’t be dealing with this.”
He ignored me, but I swear I noticed his eye twitch.
A teen seated across from me snickered. “Dude’s gonna blow a gasket.”
I grinned. “Serves him right.”
Just then, a few rains landed on the glass. The jerk rose up and reached for the roof hatch over his head. “Great, just what we need! Rain!”
When he tugged on the hatch, there was a loud CRACK. His face turned pallid. “Uh oh.”
A steady stream of water started pouring on his head. He tried to close the hatch, but it was stuck. Every few seconds, another drip fell with a quiet “plop” against his head.
“Having some trouble there?” I called out sweetly.
He spun around, water spraying from his woolen beanie. “Shut up! This is all your fault somehow, I know it!”
I held up my hands innocently. “Hey, I’m way down here. Maybe it’s just… karma?”
The mother and baby, who had now settled down, giggled. The guy gave her a nasty glare before sinking in his seat, batting at the water drips as if they were flies.
A middle-aged woman sitting nearby murmured to me, “I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s like the universe is teaching him a lesson.”
I nodded, attempting to maintain a straight expression. “Three strikes and you’re out, right?”
As we approached our destination, a wicked notion occurred to me. I reached into my wallet and pulled out a wad of cash—mostly ones, but with a couple of twenties on top to make it look impressive. I quietly put it beneath the seat closest to where I was standing.
“Oh my gosh,” I said loudly, bending down. “Look what I just found!”
The entire bus became quiet. I held up the money. “Did anyone lose this? It was under this seat here.”
The jerk’s head snapped up so quickly, I thought he’d suffer whiplash. His eyes were wide and focused on the money in my hand.
“That’s mine!” he shouted, leaping up. “I was sitting there earlier! I must have dropped it!”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? Somehow I doubt that. Can you prove it? Did anyone see that man sitting in this seat here?” I yelled out loudly, pointing to the location where I had planted the money.
Much to my delight, our fellow passengers responded with a chorus of “nos”.
The man’s face turned an intriguing shade of purple. “Give me my money, you thief!” he demanded.
He surged forward, attempting to grab the cash. But Karma wasn’t finished with him yet. His shoe hooked on someone’s bag, sending him flying face-first into the aisle.
There was a collective gasp and then stillness. Slowly, the jerk raised himself, gripping his arm. “You’ll pay for this,” he growled at me. “I’ll sue!”
I couldn’t contain my laughing any longer. “Sue me for what? Finding my own money?”
His jaw fell. “What?”
I spread out the bills, revealing that they were mostly ones. “It’s my money. I was teaching you a lesson about karma and assuming things. Maybe next time you’ll think twice before taking someone’s seat and being rude to a mom and her baby.”
The entire bus exploded with applause. The jerk’s expression was a mix of wrath and embarrassment as he sank back into his soaked seat.
The adolescent from earlier gave me a thumbs up. “That was epic! You totally own him!”
I shrugged, attempting to appear nonchalant, but inwardly I was doing a victory dance.
As we approached the station, I noticed the mother and her infant. “That was amazing,” she said. “Thank you for standing up to him.”
I smiled. “Us bus riders have to stick together, right? Besides, your little guy did most of the work.”
She laughed, bouncing the now-sleeping baby. “He’s usually such an angel. I guess he just knew that man needed a lesson.”
The elderly gentleman who spoke to me earlier chuckled. “In all my years of riding buses, I’ve never seen justice served quite like that. Well done, young lady.”
We all filed off the bus, the jerk rushing past everyone to get away. As I watched him stomp off, still soaking, I couldn’t help but feel satisfied.
“Karma’s a funny thing,” I mused to myself. “And sometimes, it rides the bus.”
As I walked away from the bus stop, I noticed a young mother struggling with her bags and infant. I jogged up to her.
“Need a hand?” I asked.
She looked relieved. “Oh, would you? That would be wonderful.”
As we strolled together, she introduced herself as Lisa and her young son as Sam.
“I’m Carla,” I said. “Where are you headed?”
“Just to my sister’s place,” Lisa replied. “It’s a few blocks from here. I hope I’m not taking you out of your way.”
I waved off her concern. “Not at all. After that bus ride, I could use a nice walk.”
We talked as we walked, laughing at the event on the bus. I came to a complete halt when we reached a corner. The jerk from the bus sat at a nearby café, looking uncomfortable as he attempted to dry himself with paper napkins.
Lisa followed my eyes and suppressed a giggle. “Should we say hello?”
I grinned mischievously. “You know what? I think we should.”
We approached his table, and I cleared my throat. “Fancy seeing you here.”
He looked up in embarrassment. “You! Haven’t you done enough?”
I held up my hands peacefully. “Actually, I came over to apologize. The money thing was a bit much.”
He seemed taken aback by my admission. “Oh. Well… I suppose I wasn’t exactly on my best behavior either.”
Lisa stepped forward, bouncing Sam gently. “We all have bad days. Maybe we can start over?”I held up my hands peacefully. “Actually, I came over to apologize. The money thing was a bit much.”
The man’s face softened as he looked at the baby. “He is kind of cute when he’s not screaming.”
We all chuckled as the tension dissipated. As Lisa and I went to go, the man asked, “Hey, what’s your name?”
“Carla,” I replied.
He nodded. “I’m Victor. And… I’m sorry about the seat thing.”
I smiled. “Water under the bridge, Victor. Or should I say, water through the roof?”
He grumbled amicably at my joke, and we parted ways. As Lisa and I resumed our stroll, I couldn’t help but think that perhaps karma had worked its magic on all of us today.
