Lessons Learned the Hard Way – No. 66

22 05 2008

Before you have that first drink of the day, always check the time.

 

It was still dark when my alarm rang. I stumbled out of bed and made my way to the bathroom in the desperate hope that the shower would wake me up. In semi-consciousness I boarded the bus to the airport and walked into the bustling terminal the requisite three hours prior to departure. After checking in, handing over my luggage and squeezing through security, I wandered aimlessly through the duty free shop before finding a quiet corner and awaiting the call to board.

 

Once onboard, I fastened my seat belt and paid polite attention to the safety briefing. We taxied down the runway, lifted off and climbed through the clouds. I plugged in the headset, pulled out my book and settled down for the four hour flight.

 

A short while later there was a tap on my shoulder and a flight attendant asked if I wanted something to drink. I glanced at the trolley arrayed with liquids of all colours and shades in bottles and cartons of all sizes and shapes. In a rare foray into airborne alcohol, I requested a single malt scotch, neat: no water, no ice. She poured two fingers of the warm amber liquid.

 

I raised the plastic glass to my mouth, the rich peaty scent tickling at my nostrils. The initial contact burned my lips but warmed my insides as it glided down my throat.

 

“Do you know what time it is?” my travelling companion asked reproachfully.

 

“Yes, it’s…” I replied, putting down my cup and reaching for my arm to pull back the sleeve and look at my watch.

 

I was calculating the time in my head as I reached for my wrist. It had been at least 6 hours since my alarm had rung so therefore it must be…

 

“…it’s 7am” she answered coolly, before I could provide her with the same information. “Don’t you think it’s a little early for hard liquor?” she added, turning away from me to look out the window.

 

I glanced around the cabin at a sea of orange juices, apple juices and pineapple juices and quickly finished my drink and hid the evidence in the seat pocket in front of me.

 

 

Post by: Simon Vaughan © 2008

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