Phoenix must have had a Drunk Dallas Designing Women Seminar and a Douchey Dallas Dudes Golf Tournament simultaneously, and everyone was headed home on MY flight!  Before takeoff, the guy behind me starts chatting up the chick next to him, and HE clearly thinks he’s awesome.  I’m in hell.

They begin talking (loudly) about the most mundane crap.  He makes a comment about raising teenagers, and she’s like, “I KNOW!”, and he’s like, “Me TOO!”, and then he’s like, “And the weather!”, and she’s like, “Totally!”.

The sound of my rolling eyes summons the flight attendant.  I order my first drink.  A Wild Turkey and Ginger Ale.  She takes pity on me and doubles down on the Turkey and leaves the Ginger Ale on the counter.  Bless her heart.   From behind me, I hear Drinky McBoring make a comment about the shape of a cloud.  The flight attendant waves away my drink coupon.  We are all in this together now.

He works on trying to impress Chatty Boozie for a few more minutes when some comic relief comes from an unlikely source.  Golfer McLiquored II was sitting a couple rows back and across the aisle, and had clearly had enough when he hissed (loudly), “Dude, you need to get some fresh material!”  I cracked a smile when he followed with something about “liquid chicken” (to which a large group in the back began to crack up), and then Awesome Man responded with, “Did you see the size of that chicken?”  The designing drunk next to me laughed, and I thought the night might have been saved if it wasn’t for her breath. (by the way, I was typing this blog on my phone, and it autocorrected “breath” to “breasts”.  Clearly my phone thinks I’m a guy.  And, most likely, a drunk Dallas golfer.)

The stewardess made a second pass.  I ordered a vodka and vodka, put my headphones on, and cranked up my “Times Like These” playlist.

I think the stewardess may have told the pilot about the Drunks of Babble-On, because he pulled a rockstar move as we descended for our final approach into DFW.  He banked the plane steeper than a typical landing, and pulled us into two tight circles.  I had to stifle a giggle as I heard Sir Drinksalot reach for the barf bag.



2 thoughts on “PHX -> DAL

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