When I helped an elderly woman onto a crowded bus, I came back to find a smug man had stolen my seat and tossed my bag aside. “First come, first served,” he muttered without even looking up. I was furious, but I bit my tongue and found a pole to hang onto. Just then, a baby near him started wailing at full volume, and he snapped at the mom to shut the kid up. I stepped in to defend her, and from that moment on, karma took the wheel.
Every time he started to doze off, the baby shrieked or kicked the back of his seat. Rain soon began dripping from the roof—right onto his head. He fumbled with the hatch, but it was stuck, soaking him more by the second. Meanwhile, the mom and I exchanged glances, silently cheering karma’s relentless pace. Around us, other passengers were clearly enjoying the show.
Then I decided to take it a step further. I planted a wad of my own cash under a nearby seat and loudly announced I’d found it. He immediately claimed it was his and lunged for it, only to trip over a bag and fall flat in the aisle. I told him it was my money and a lesson in making assumptions. The whole bus erupted in laughter and applause, while he slunk back to his soggy seat, defeated.
Later, I helped the mom—Lisa—and her baby, Sam, with her bags, and we walked together. At a café nearby, we spotted the same man, still drenched and trying to dry off with napkins. We approached, and to my surprise, he apologized. We shared a laugh, and as Lisa and I walked away, I felt a quiet sense of closure. Sometimes karma doesn’t just ride the bus—it makes a scene, teaches a lesson, and then quietly walks away with you.