Thoughts

Things got off to a bad start Friday afternoon as I began my excursion. I had a 7pm flight so I did the smart thing and left work at 4 in hopes of making decent time by hopefully beating the traffic. This plan was met with construction and bumper to bumper traffic.

I was thrilled.

Good thing I left early, however. I eventually made my way into the airport and found out that the gate from which I was set to depart was the furthest away from where I came in. I can use the exercise so I hoofed it to the gate and see "NY, La Guardia" on the monitor. Now last time I had checked New York was not on the way from Detroit to Orlando, but maybe they moved it. My gate was moved to right next to where I entered the airport. I make the trek back and wait in line to ask for my exit row seat.

Upon my asking, the woman behind the counter tells me that there are no empty seats available period, including exit row. She says she will write down my seat number and let me know if anything comes up...how kind of her. Much to my surprise I was soon paged back to the counter. She hands me a new boarding pass marked "01 B". My only guess here is that there were openings in first class and they were trying to fit standby passengers on the flight. Why not bump and existing passenger to first class and let someone standby take his seat in economy? I like it.

This was only my second experience in first class and my first on this particular airline. As it turns out, this airline likes to flood your body with booze. Who knew?

[More:]

I declined my pre-flight drink, but decided I had had a rough day and treated myself to a G&T once we were in the air. The attendant told me I would have to play my own "mixologist" so as to get the right balance of G and T in my glass. What good would it do to argue? I was handed a can of Tonic and two small bottles of Gin. Soon after they were gone I was asked if I cared for more; I did not, but I did opt for a glass of the red with my pot roast. It was their "award winning Merlot", or so it was explained to me. While I ate I was asked how I liked the wine.
"It's good, thank you."
"Do you have any room in your bag?"
"I do," I replied thinking that was easily the strangest question to be asked by a flight attendant and I returned to my in flight meal.
A minute later he came back to me and placed a full sized bottle of the Merlot next to my leg on my seat.
"Just make sure you get up and put that in your bag before you deplane."

Confused, I simply shoot a glance at the gentleman to my left and he shrugs his shoulders. I follow suit and go about my business.

Shortly thereafter the man to my left decides time for Budweiser has passed and the time for Baileys on the rocks is upon us. At the point of his first refill he is handed 4-5 more bottles of Baileys. I have never had Baileys on the rocks, but I know people seem to enjoy it and it's free so I decide to indulge.
"May I have one, too so I may join my neighbor in a drink?" I ask.
"Sure."
"Right on," pipes in my first class compatriot.
Not a bad drink. I see why many people like to have it after a meal; it has a nice dessert quality about it. Did the flight attendant sense my satisfaction? Maybe it was some other sixth flight attendant sense that sent him in my direction with two more small bottles of Baileys.
"Put those in your pocket."
And I did.

Some time passes and my sidekick heads to the back of the plane for reasons that are his own. Easily 20 minutes pass before he comes back to his seat; prompted by the announcement of our forthcoming descent into Orlando. He is tailed by a different flight attendant who continues to badger him.
"You can take it, it is no big deal."
"No thank you."
"Are you sure? I really don't mind."
"I am sure, but thank you anyway."
"It really is no trouble."
"No, it is quite all right. I don't like wine. But my "roommate" (me) here got one."
"Oh he wants one?"
"No, he already got one."
"Ok, I'll go get him one." As she turns away from us, though only long enough to grab a full sized bottle of white wine and a plastic bag which she thrusts in my hand. (Maybe that shouldn't sound so forced, I did not fight the hand-off.) She tells me she doesn't have time to put it in the bag for me as she needs to prepare for landing and I must do it myself. I'm over it.

So now I get off the plane. This is the plane on which I was scheduled to sit somewhere near the back without an exit row seat with my knees locked into a position that is not only uncomfortable for me, but also hinders the person in front of me from being able to recline. This lack of leg room was not to be outdone by the screaming of my body for more fuel than a tiny bag of square pretzels.

Only this time I make my exit with a full stomach and a present for the family that is hosting my vacation in the form of two bottles of wine. I had better be careful. I could get used to flying like this...