Airports are stressful enough, but this day at JFK turned into chaos thanks to one entitled traveler who acted like she owned the entire terminal. It began near Hudson News, where a woman in a red coat stood FaceTiming loudly without headphones, her sharp voice cutting through the noise. Behind her, a little white puffball dog squatted on the floor, leaving a mess in plain sight. An elderly man politely pointed it out, but instead of apologizing, she snapped, calling him rude and telling him to mind his business.
Gasps filled the crowd, a mother covered her child’s eyes, and when another passenger asked her to clean it up, she waved dismissively, saying, “They have people for that,” before strutting off like nothing happened. Things escalated at TSA when she shoved to the front of the line, claiming she had PreCheck, even though she wasn’t in the right lane. When the agent corrected her, she insisted her anxious dog needed priority. She argued about removing her boots, threatened to sue TSA staff, and grumbled the whole way through security while her dog barked at strollers and wheelchairs. Later, at the coffee kiosk, she screamed at baristas for not having almond milk, insulted them, and stormed off blasting music from her phone speakers for everyone to hear.
By the time I got to Gate 22 for my Rome flight, there she was again, FaceTiming without headphones, hogging three seats—one for her, one for her purse, and one for her barking dog. Passengers around her whispered in disbelief, hoping she wasn’t on their flight. A toddler cried after the dog lunged toward it, and the parents quietly left. Everyone else avoided sitting near her. I decided to change that. I sat down beside her with a smile. She glared at me, and her dog barked at my shoe. “Cute little guy,” I said. She muttered that he didn’t like strangers.
I replied calmly, “Airports bring out the worst in everyone,” pretending to make friendly conversation while passengers around us watched, exhausted and curious. I knew exactly what I was going to do. She kept shouting into her phone about a missing bracelet and threatening legal action. Her dog chewed on a plastic straw wrapper without a leash, completely ignored. A nearby elderly couple slowly left after the dog barked at them. I recognized her type from my customer service days—the kind who throws items on the counter, says “do your job,” and demands a manager when they don’t get their way. My mom’s advice came to mind: “The only way to deal with a bully is to smile and outsmart them.”
After another round of her screaming into her phone, I stood up, pretending to stretch, walked to the window, and waited long enough for her to think I’d left. When I returned, I casually asked, “Flying to Paris for fun?” She looked confused and said she was going to Rome. I glanced at my phone and said, “Weird, they must’ve changed it. Says Paris now. You better hurry, 14B is far.” Without questioning it, she cursed, shoved everything into her bag, yanked the dog’s leash, and stormed off ranting about how incompetent the airport was. Nobody stopped her, and we all watched as she disappeared into the crowd. Suddenly, silence. No barking, no yelling, just the hum of a normal airport gate.
A little girl hugged her teddy bear and whispered “yay.” A mom mouthed “thank you” to me while her toddler played peacefully. Someone gave me a thumbs-up, another man tipped his invisible hat, and soft clapping started near the food kiosk, spreading like a quiet wave of relief. Even the gate agent seemed surprised when she returned, glancing around as if sensing something had changed. For the first time all day, we could finally breathe. The screen still read “ROME – ON TIME,” and she never came back. The entire gate shared a moment of silent gratitude that one person’s chaos had finally been outsmarted and removed from our path to a peaceful flight.
