On my return flight from the Nation’s Capital last night, I paid the few extra dollars to move to a seat up front – not first class, mind you, but row 9 which isn’t bad considering the drinks are free.
It was a middle seat. Blech. I’m 6’2″ and any seat in the main cabin requires me to fold me body like a suitcase. Sitting in the middle requires me to take the additional step of folding my arms into my torso.
We had just reached cruising altitude when I began playing an episode of the series Air Disasters on my phone, which I had placed in the little phone holder. I find it puts my fellow passengers at ease. I also sometimes forget the difference between “at ease” and “highly disturbed”.
Just as footage of American flight 587 crashing into the Rockaway neighborhood of Queens was appearing on the screen, the crew came to my row with their lovely magic cart. To the young Nigerian man sitting next to me came the question we all love to hear.
“Something to drink, sir?”
When I tell you this guy knows how to fly, I am not exaggerating.
“Yes,” he said before clearing his throat with all the vigor of a man who knows he is about to make an important statement that must be heard precisely.
He continued. “I would like a glass of water with no ice.”
Then he added, “And an orange juice, a champagne, and two Biscoff cookies.”
To my surprise as his eyes immediately darted back to my phone screen, the flight attendant simply nodded before turning to me with the same question.
I thought about this. I was going to order my usual but maybe now I would tack on like my African seatmate.
“Yes,” I said. “I would like two gins and a tonic.”
And then I added, “…and two Biscoffs.”
Boy those cookies are tasty.
Upon her return thirty minutes later, the Nigerian handed his refuse across me and locked eyes with the attendant.
“Ma’am,” he said, “I’ll take another champagne, an orange juice, a Woodford Reserve… and two more Biscoffs.”
So I also ordered more.
And then my new friend and I returned to watching more planes crashing.
A good time was had by all.
Merry Christmas to me!
Harvey Millican's Blog: Musings of a Trad Dad 