Chicago Weekend Down in Flames, Part 2 - 10/18/07
Originally Posted 10/18/07

In response to the few emails I've received regarding the Craigslist Airplane Vomit Apology Letter… yes I'm alive. Yes, it's all true.

Rough estimates have me consuming around 30 drinks over the course of the day, never once stopping to consider "Hey, maybe I should slow down, or I might violently ill later." Rough estimates having me passing the point of rational decision-making somewhere around noon.

It's really a miracle I even made it the airport, let alone made it through security.

I arrived at the airport several hours early (I was too drunk to remember what time my flight was) and proceeded to pass out on the floor in a remote corner of the baggage claim area, which brings up the first in a series of "What Should Have Happened Vs. What Did Happen" scenarios.

What Should Have Happened: I sleep through my flight and have my backpack, wallet and shoes stolen by airport malefactors, but don't traumatize a planeful of people with my horrific chundering.

What Did Happen: A yelling security lady woke me up a coincidental 20 minutes before my flight, allowing me to trudge zombie-like through security with all my possessions amazingly in tow.

What Should Have Happened: Seeing that I'm clearly a health risk to myself and others, the check-in people refuse to let me on the plane and tackle me to the ground when I insist that I'm fine. I spend the next 6 hours on a cot in the airport security center, and later receive community service for throwing up on two guards.

What Did Happen: They let me on the plane. I don't remember how.

What Did Happen: I then proceeded to vomit more than anyone has ever vomited on a plane. Not in the bathroom, either. The whole 4 hour trip I didn't make it to the lavatory once (I probably couldn't even walk). I just sat right there in my seat and went through barf bag after barf bag.

What Should Have Happened: They shoot me like a lame horse.

It's all true. Even the part about the oxygen tank actually happened - at one point I woke up and there was a big oxygen tank sitting in the seat next to me, with a stewardess affixing the mask to my face. I couldn't understand this at all: A) I'm not sure how a gas mask helps vomiting and B) I was somewhat delusional, but I was simply to out of it to argue with her so I just rolled with it.

I felt the apology letter was necessary: I've been on many flights, and I've never witnessed anything even a tenth as obnoxious as I'm sure I must have been. On an annoyance-power-level of things that can happen on an airplane would look something like this:

  • Sitting Next to a Fat Guy: 3
  • Screaming Baby: 8
  • Drunk, vomiting guy: 90
At least it's nice to know that, barring a plane crash, the worst possible flight of my life is now behind me.

And no, I didn't vomit on the Turbo Prop, the completely pointless second leg of my journey. There were only about 15 seats on the whole plane: if I'd have chundered there, they probably would have just thrown me out of the plane somewhere over Long Beach.



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