My entitled husband thought it would be a great idea to book first-class tickets for himself and his mom, leaving me stuck in economy with our kids. But I wasn’t about to let him enjoy his “luxury” experience without a little turbulence. Let’s just say he got a lesson he’ll never forget.

I’m Sophie, and my husband, Clark, is the quintessential workaholic. He’s always glued to his job, acting like the world would stop spinning without him. Sure, I understand the stress of work, but hello? Being a mom is no walk in the park either. And this time, Clark’s selfishness hit a whole new low. Ready to hear the story?

It all started when we planned to visit his family for the holidays. The idea was to relax, spend time as a family, and give our kids some cherished memories. Sounds straightforward, right? Clark offered to handle the flight bookings, and I naively thought, “Great, one less thing to worry about.”
How wrong I was.

The day of the flight, I was juggling our toddler, a diaper bag, and keeping our older child entertained when I asked, “Clark, where are our seats?”

Without even looking up from his phone, he mumbled, “Oh, about that…”

A knot tightened in my stomach. “What do you mean, ‘about that’?”

He gave me one of his sheepish grins—the kind that always signaled trouble. “Well, I got an upgrade for Mom and me to first class. You know how she gets on long flights, and I really need to rest…”

Wait, what?

“You’re kidding, right?” I asked, incredulous. “So, you’re leaving me in economy with two kids while you and your mom sip champagne in first class?”

He shrugged as if it was no big deal. “It’s just a few hours, Soph. You’ll be fine.”

Before I could process the audacity, his mom, Nadia, appeared, smiling smugly. “Oh, Clark! Are we ready for our first-class flight?” she chirped, clearly reveling in her upgraded status.

The two of them sauntered off to the first-class lounge while I stood there, fuming, with our kids in tow. My anger simmered as I navigated security, herded our kids through the crowded airport, and boarded the plane. That’s when inspiration struck.

As we went through the security checkpoint earlier, I’d noticed Clark wasn’t paying attention. Casually, I slipped his wallet out of his carry-on and into my bag. He didn’t even notice.

On the plane, the kids and I settled into our cramped economy seats while Clark and Nadia lounged in luxury up front. I caught glimpses of them sipping champagne and ordering gourmet meals. Meanwhile, I was munching on stale pretzels with our restless kids. But I had a plan.

About two hours into the flight, I saw the flight attendant approach Clark with a tray of high-end snacks and drinks. He ordered freely, clearly enjoying his indulgence—until it was time to pay. That’s when the real fun began.

Clark started patting his pockets, his expression shifting from confident to panicked as he realized his wallet was missing. He gestured wildly at the flight attendant, trying to explain. I couldn’t hear the conversation, but the look of desperation on his face was priceless. The flight attendant wasn’t budging.

Minutes later, Clark appeared in economy, crouching next to me. “Soph, I can’t find my wallet. Do you have some cash?”

I feigned concern. “Oh no! That’s terrible. How much do you need?”

“About $1500,” he muttered, clearly embarrassed.

I gasped. “$1500? For what? Did you order the entire menu?”

“Look, I just need it. Do you have it or not?”

I rummaged through my bag dramatically. “I’ve got $200. Will that help?”

Clark looked defeated. “I guess it’ll have to do. Thanks.”

As he turned to leave, I couldn’t resist. “Maybe your mom can cover the rest? After all, she’s enjoying first class too.”

The color drained from his face as he realized he’d have to ask Nadia for help. Watching him squirm made every cramped moment in economy worth it.

The rest of the flight was awkward for Clark and Nadia. Their first-class experience was thoroughly ruined, while I relaxed in economy, savoring my small victory.

After the flight, Clark was still frantic about his wallet. “I swear I had it at the airport,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

I smiled innocently. “Maybe you left it at home?”

He sighed, clearly frustrated. “This whole trip is a disaster.”

“Well,” I said sweetly, “at least you got to enjoy first class, right?”

Clark didn’t answer, but the look he gave me was priceless.

Later, I returned his wallet, pretending I’d “found” it in my bag. Clark was too relieved to ask questions, but I could tell he’d learned his lesson.

Moral of the story? If your partner tries to upgrade themselves at your expense, a little creative justice can go a long way. In life, we’re supposed to be a team—first class or economy, together is where we belong.