Don't mess with tha wife

We are getting off of the plane in from Fort Lauderdale, when I see C several yards behind me, all grumbly-like. It turns out someone nearly knocked him over in their rush to get off before him; now he's cursing how rude how New Yorkers are.

Once we get to the gate, we stop off to the side and put our jackets on. This guy comes along and unnecessarily pushes himself between C and the chairs, then sashays off in his shearling jacket. As if there weren't this wiiiide berth on the opposite side, where everyone else is walking directly to Baggage Claim like normal human beings.

Me: "Was that the same guy?"
C: "Yes."

So as we leave the terminal for the AirTrain, my eyes are searching, searching. Passing the taxi line, I spot the guy waiting in it. I walk up right behind him and say loudly:

"Karma is a bitch!"

Several people, including him, turn around in the line to see where that came from. When his eyes meet mine, I flip him the bird and walk away.