My husband Clark really crossed a line this time. For our holiday trip, he booked first-class tickets—for himself and his mom—leaving me and our two kids crammed in economy. His excuse? “She needs to be comfortable on long flights.” I was livid, but I didn’t argue. I just smiled—and plotted.
While Clark and his mother sipped champagne and strutted off like royalty, I quietly slipped his wallet into my bag during security. He didn’t even notice.
Once on board, he enjoyed gourmet meals and top-shelf wine while I wrestled toddlers with nothing but pretzels and juice. Then came the moment I’d been waiting for: the flight attendant handed him the bill.
His smug grin vanished.
He fumbled, searched, panicked. Eventually, Clark sheepishly wandered back to economy, asking me for money. I raised an eyebrow and handed him a few small bills, adding, “Maybe your mom can help cover the rest.”
The look on his face? Priceless.
He spent the rest of the flight red-faced and silent. And his wallet? Safely in my purse the whole time.
Lesson learned: if you ditch your wife and kids for luxury, don’t be surprised when karma flies coach—right beside us.
