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christopher575One thing I hate more about traveling than this damned pen is how much it costs to drink. I'm currently at the Bar With No Obvious Name at the Denver airport (DEN for us air freight types). I'm enjoying a double-tall screwdriver which was $10 ($11 with tip) and also had a single for $5 on the plane, and another double-tall at the weird african restaurant at Sea-Tac airport (SEA for those air freight types). That's $27 so far. If I drank $27 at Noc Noc or Manray I would be in the emergency room or maybe dead in the ambulance on the way there. I'm just now only starting to get a bit drunk (again, I wish I could blame the booze for my chicken scratch) but until now I just had the slight high-altitude-mixed-with-a-nearly-empty-stomach buzz, which was cut abruptly short by the woman in the front row, left side, aisle seat. She and her (kinda bearish) SO were here in the bar, but left. If she's on my next flight, I may just lose it.
I was also on the aisle, on the right side, in the second row. It turns out that she had to sit where she was because she hurt her right foot and can't quite sit like a normal person. She had to stick her foot into the aisle. Were in in such a predicament, I would have certainly worn my trust Dr. Marten's, and not some open-toe granola-girl sandals.
But me, she ain't. At least three people stepped on her, but we both spent the rest of the flight jumping whenever anyone approached. Luckily I'm in 12F for the next leg (window, right side) so if she's going to St. Louis, she'll be where I can't see her.
P.S. There are always hotties at the airport and no way to enjoy their hotness. Did you know a couple this week who joined the mile high club were arrested for endangering the flight? It's true.
I was also on the aisle, on the right side, in the second row. It turns out that she had to sit where she was because she hurt her right foot and can't quite sit like a normal person. She had to stick her foot into the aisle. Were in in such a predicament, I would have certainly worn my trust Dr. Marten's, and not some open-toe granola-girl sandals.
But me, she ain't. At least three people stepped on her, but we both spent the rest of the flight jumping whenever anyone approached. Luckily I'm in 12F for the next leg (window, right side) so if she's going to St. Louis, she'll be where I can't see her.
P.S. There are always hotties at the airport and no way to enjoy their hotness. Did you know a couple this week who joined the mile high club were arrested for endangering the flight? It's true.
