Hi, I’m Emma—and my husband Derek recently pulled one of the most selfish, mind-blowingly inconsiderate moves I’ve ever witnessed. But don’t worry—I made sure he paid for it. What he thought would be a luxurious getaway turned into an airborne reality check he won’t soon forget.
Let me paint the picture: Derek is your textbook workaholic. Always glued to his phone, constantly chasing deadlines, and firmly believes that earning the bigger paycheck somehow entitles him to more… well, everything.
Last month, we planned a trip across the country to visit his family. It was supposed to be relaxing—time with loved ones, creating memories with the kids, the whole warm and fuzzy deal.
Derek offered to book the flights. I was juggling a million things at home, so I let him take care of it.
Big mistake.
At the airport, I’m wrangling a toddler, pushing a stroller, and dragging a car seat when I casually ask, “Hey, where are our seats?”
Without looking up from his phone, Derek mutters, “Oh yeah… about that.”
Immediately, I felt a knot form in my stomach. “What do you mean, about that?”
He glanced up, giving me that sheepish half-smile—the one he always uses before dropping a bombshell.
“Well,” he began, “I booked first class for Mom and me. You know how flights hurt her back. And I need to be well-rested when we land. You and the kids are in economy. It’s just a few hours.”
I blinked. “You… did WHAT?”
“You’ll be fine,” he said, already turning away. “Don’t make a scene.”
Before I could respond, his mother—Helen, dressed like she was headed to afternoon tea with the Queen—appeared beside him.
“Darling, are we all set? I do hope they’re serving champagne.”
And off they went, strutting toward first class like they were shooting a travel ad. I stood there with two economy boarding passes and a squirming toddler, rage radiating off me like heat waves.
Fine, Derek. Enjoy your precious first class. But don’t expect this to go unnoticed.
Once on board, I managed to settle the kids and stow our bags. I glanced up just in time to see Derek sipping a cocktail, already reclined in comfort. That’s when I remembered: his wallet. I’d slipped it out of his bag earlier at security while he was too busy chatting with Helen to notice.
Let the games begin.
About two hours into the flight, just as I was finally enjoying some peace with both kids asleep, I saw a flight attendant wheeling out an elaborate meal cart to first class. Derek ordered what looked like a five-course meal followed by top-shelf whiskey.
I sipped my lukewarm water in economy and smiled. Showtime.
Sure enough, about twenty minutes later, Derek was patting his jacket, a look of confusion morphing into panic. He whispered something to the flight attendant, then appeared beside me, crouched like he was hiding from a debt collector.
“Emma,” he hissed, “I can’t find my wallet. Do you have any cash or a card I can use? They need payment for the meal.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Oh no. That sounds serious. How much are we talking?”
“About… $1500.”
I blinked. “What did you order—steak from a golden cow and whiskey aged in diamond barrels?”
“This isn’t funny, Emma.”
“Oh, I know,” I said sweetly. “Let me see what I have.” I slowly dug through my purse. “Hmm… here’s $100 and a Target gift card. That help?”
He looked like he might pass out. “Be serious.”
“Why not ask your mom?” I offered. “I’m sure she’s got her platinum card on hand.”
His face turned pale. Asking Helen would mean admitting he’d screwed up. And Derek? He’d rather walk barefoot across Legos.
The rest of the flight was deliciously uncomfortable. Derek and Helen sat in icy silence while I stretched out in economy, finally feeling like the universe had balanced itself.
When we landed and started disembarking, Derek returned to me once more.
“Emma. Please tell me you’ve seen my wallet.”
I looked him straight in the eye. “Hmm… maybe you left it at home. You know, between all that resting you needed and your oh-so-generous planning.”
He sighed, utterly defeated. “This trip is cursed.”
I patted his shoulder. “Well, at least you got to experience first class, right?”
Later, in the airport bathroom, I checked my purse. Yep—his wallet was still right there. I’d give it back… eventually. Maybe after I bought myself something really nice.
Let this be a reminder: if your partner thinks they can treat you like baggage while they coast in comfort, remember—sometimes karma flies economy… but it still lands first. ✈️