I was young at the time; I won’t give a date (as I finally hit the age where I choose to ignore those details).
I boarded a Delta flight (757) to Dallas in my first EVER First-class upgrade.
It was then that I realized my co-worker Manny was on the flight–a few rows behind me. This cat was cool. When Manny switched seats to be next to me it was great; this guy was indeed a character and I hung on every word of his stories.
STU: “Wine, sir?”
Manny: “Yes; Gracias.”
STU: “Wine, sir?”
ME: “Hell, yeah; I mean, ‘Sure.’”
You might ask how I remember details from so long ago? Well, I am blessed (or cursed) with an oddly amazing long term memory; I can’t remember your name when I meet you but I will a few years later.
Manny and I chin-wagged for quite some time on this flight.
STU: “Wine, sir?”
Manny: “Yes; Gracias.”
Some background: Manny handled international affairs in our office. He rarely worked in the States despite living in Florida. Every month or two, we would all see each other and get some Cuban Coffee and Toast and catch up. Those guys in the international wing introduced me to some great foods, too; hell, they invited me to their parties and I learned just how bad I looked doing those smooth Puerto Rican dances.
STU: “Wine, sir?”
Manny: “Yes, Ma’am, gracias; both of us.”
Flight was really nice, and those COMFORTABLE first class seats made me feel more important than I was or ever will be.
STU: “One more, sir?”
Manny: “Yes; Gracias; both of us.”
At this point, Manny told me the theory that at these pressurized cabin levels it would mess up your ability to control your drinking comfort zone. “Hmmm, never would have thought of that. I normally don’t drink wine on planes, Manny.”
STU: “Another, sir?”
Manny: “Yes, Gracias; both.”
Ok, I’ll skip forward.
STU: “A little topper, sir?”
Manny: “Yes, Gracias; don’t forget my friend here.”
So we arrived and I proceeded to the small airplane hub in DFW.
I was starting to feel really funny. This was different than my recent college BEER drinking slip-ups. It was more like grapes and Cuban Toast in a blender feeling.
I needed to find a solution FAST. Find a rest room, right? Yes.
I see a door, take it. I shall just drop the briefcase outside the door and entry. (Wow, that is a stupid idea; what was I thinking there? – for you commenters, this is what they call a rhetorical question.)
Odd, this doesn’t look like a bathroom. It is an empty series of rooms with NEW CARPET. Nice smell, wait; oh boy; I have to throw up now.
“Hi, yeah… I was feeling sick and thought this was a rest room.”
THE MAN: “It is not; this is the NEW corporate offices of ASA Airlines. Not sure how you got in here.”
“I apologize. Door was opened and I thought…”
THE MAN: “Please leave or I will call the Police.”
Outside the door was my briefcase; ticket still in there. Phew. Hey, I feel better now too; phew.
Flight was good that evening.
Peer pressure is a biatch
- Paul
Tagged as:
airport,
alcohol,
atlantic southeast airlines,
delta airlines,
vomit
