We did great on our flight to Alaska - Morgan had a fresh set of stitches on his forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt from a gash he received while playing baseball with a pipe. Of course this happened right around the beginning popularity of Harry Potter movies. Oh yeah, and he wore glasses. It was perfect. Two kids traveling alone across the country being stopped by strangers constantly. Piece of cake. We weren't traumatized at all.
Right before (the night before) we would be flying home for the summer that year Momma decided to take us to the cinema. "Oh, a film! Fantastic, what did you see?" Final Destination.
We saw Final Destination. Why? Hell if I know! I felt fine after seeing it - it's just a movie for goodness sake.
Just. A. Movie. Yeah, it was "just a movie" until Morgan and I were headed to board the plane and I blacked out. Of course, I thought I blacked out. Actually I misplaced all of my shit and pushed everyone out of the way as I drug my poor brother through the crowd back to momma while screaming "We're all going to die probably!" Needless to say, no amount of coaxing could get me on that flight. I would like to take this moment to apologize to my step-dad Jack who at this point hadn't really seen anything like this and really acted honorably by sitting out of the way and pretending like he didn't know us. So, sorry.
We were put on the next flight - momma gave us some anti-anxiety medication. We woke up mid-flight and had the best meatloaf sandwich we had ever tasted. We still talk about it. So very good.
And that's why when we fly now we take a bit of anti-anxiety medication, we're adults so sometimes it is accompanied by whiskey. Don't judge, it's rude. (Note: this medication is prescribed to us - we do not advocate drug abuse or taking medication that does not belong to you or isn't prescribed. Drugs are bad. Also, drinking while taking medication is probably also bad. Consult your physician.)
Morgan is traveling right now for some fancy meeting for his job. He called me at 8:30 am. Here is a basic transcript of our conversations.
A: Bueno (don't ask)
M: What time do the bars open at the airport?
A: I don't know...now?
M: Hmm...I'm going to check. They open at 10.
A: Wow. I feel like they should be open all the time.
M: Okay, so I took half a xanax about an hour ago...when do I take the next half?
A: When do you board?
M: In like, 30 minutes.
A: Well, I usually just take a whole one an hour before then I sit at the gate, then when we board I stand up and can't feel my legs. That's how I know I'm okay.
M: Yeah, I like that but I need the half before I get to the airport.
A: I understand. You need to take the other half now.
M: Moment of truth - half or whole?
M: Too late.
Then he boards - he calls me when he gets to his layover a few hours later.
A: How's that xanax treating you?
M: Well. I sat next to two old people on the flight - the wife wouldn't let me go pee because her husband was asleep.
A: Seriously? It was 10 am, did he not sleep at nighttime like he was supposed to?
M: Also, I thought I saw Stanley Tucci in the bathroom...but it wasn't him. Upon further inspection the only similarities between this guy and Tucci was the bald head.
15 minutes later...
M: I've just learned, Adbbhell Jameson is really tall
M: A double Jameson. It's tall. And big.
Tall and big.