My 9 hour flight to London next to a very drunk Polish guy. Each hour, new words of wisdom:
Hour 1: “I did not choose this seat. I was pushed! Excuse me, I often vomit during the flight.”
Hour 2: “My friends and I drink many drinks at this Ruby Tuesday. You know this place? Many drinks there. Then we go to airport lounge. Many drinks there too. Excuse me, flight attendant, can I have some wine?”
Hour 3: “You know Wild West Bar in Houston? You don’t? What is wrong with you? This is dancing. Step, step, step. This is easy. Why you not go here?”
Hour 4: “Galveston. You know Galveston? Good bar there. Next to big white building. You no go to bars there? Is good bar. Is strip club.”
Hour 5: “I go to helicopter rescue class. You take vomit bag from plane, blow air in and then you have one breath air if you go underwater. Is good to know, yes?”
Hour 6: “What is this magazine you are reading? These women are not pretty. Polish women are pretty! All Polish women blonde and tall. Very beautiful.”
Hour 7: (He dozes off…. suddenly we have turbulence…) “Maybe this is last flight we ever take.” (back to sleep)
Hour 8-9: {Tries to sleep on my shoulder. 30 minutes ensues of pushing and jabbing to get him back into his own seat.)
Flight lands. Polish guy too hung over to talk anymore. Departs to entertain his next flight.
so funny – beth
…and I’m assuming you took that slightly out-of-focus shot of the booze after YOU’VE had a few as well, to put up with the guy? Hilarious!