So I board my flight from Phoenix to Houston and was two rows behind a dude who had just signed a record deal (as he and his dad had loudly celebrated at their departing huggy wuggy time). It was apparent that Rock Star Dude was one hot mess.
As I took my seat and buckled up, dude got up and staggered down the aisle. He could hardly hold his eyes open as he loudly announced he'd been out drinking 151 all night. When he loudly demanded a stripper, 3 flighties surrounded him and escorted him off the plane. At least he didn't resist.
After takeoff, I watched My Sister's Keeper. At arrival in Houston I disembarked with streaky makeup and a snotty nose. Note to self: no heartwrenching movies on next flight!
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Adventures at 35,000ft.
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