I’d had five at the bar in the airport, I had a sandwich too. It had worked out about as well as I could have hoped. I was at that spot, not sullen or sentimental, not falling down or slurring too much. The waitress had a big ass but she was nice. She let me sit and drink. I was there for the better part of the morning. She brought me more when I pointed to the glass; they were all doubles because it was only two bucks more for a double. She brought them out and didn’t seem to care how early it was. She brought them out and I smiled at her and thanked her when she did.
I left a minute or two before twelve. The terminal was wide and bright; the midday sun was beating down hard on the shiny floor and it glowed. The concourse, "B" I think, was more crowded then when I had stepped into the bar. I had gotten my shoes shined from a white kid, maybe twenty or twenty-one. He had a few piercing and a lot of ink but he seemed like a good kid. He talked a little. He asked where I was going. When I told him I was going home though, he clamed up.
The gate was pretty crowded but I found a seat near the window. It was between a family from South America, I think, and a couple that had been at the bar. The couple had a cup of chili and a tuna sandwich, probably not the way you think though. He had the tuna. She complained that the chili didn’t have any meat in it. She was blonde and getting up there. Her skin was red and freckling hard. I didn’t notice much about the guy except that he had the tuna. They weren’t in the bar to drink -- iced tea and Diet Coke I think. Not like me.
It was good then, the five doubles and the sandwich were stirring in the middle of my stomach and I felt right. The flight would only be two and a half hours so I thought maybe two or three more would do it. It’s sort of a tight rope to keep the buzz right, to shake off the nasty shit: the lingering fear or doubts and to not get sloppy.
Some tall hard-on was on his cell congratulating the "big-guy" for beating his quota. The hard-on seemed pleased. The couple from the bar got upgraded to first class. You can get all the booze you want in first class, of course, but I wouldn’t drink enough to make it worthwhile, I’d be alright I only needed another two or three. I had a few free drink coupons in my bag, a lady gave them to me once, so I knew I‘d be alright.
It was twenty after twelve and I would have to get on the plane. I didn’t want to; I waited as long as I could before I went. I didn’t want to give up the wide comfort and the bright lights of the terminal. It’s wasn’t crowded and it seemed just about right. The crowd was gone and it was peaceful but I had to get on board. I was going home.
There was a girl at the bar, a redhead. She was hungry – you could tell. When she smiled she showed her teeth. She smiled a lot. It was a primal smile, maybe even a feral smile, I don’t remember exactly but you knew what she wanted. No one else smiled with teeth like that. I thought if I had time, I might have played along. I was in the bar but not sitting at the bar proper like her, I was sitting at a window. I looked out a lot but there were no planes to watch. I might have given the girl who showed her teeth a try, like I said, but I wasn’t in the mood. I felt alright and I was going home. I probably would have done alright with her, my hair looked good and my shoes were shined. Some girls care if your shoes are shined, you know. Not the one that was showing her teeth, but some.
In first class, there were two girls – both good looking- one had big hair and she also showed her teeth when she smiled. It wasn’t the same teeth as the girl in the bar. It was an I’ll-humor-you-until-the-flight-is-over smile. She had a wide smile. Her accent was southern, I think, but I couldn’t hear it too well. I had gotten on the plane alright; I had smiled warmly at the girl taking tickets and gotten through. I don’t think she noticed I was drunk. I had gotten on the plane and was looking at the girls in first class when I realized I had no idea where I was sitting. I was drunk a little, sure, but no one noticed. Everyone looks at their ticket to see where they sit, even when they know damn well where they sit, so I was alright. I was going home. The other girl in first class was maybe a little prettier, she wasn’t going to smile and show her teeth, not a chance. She was behind the couple from the bar. The tuna guy looked dully at the cockpit and the freckle lady read Vogue. They were not going home, you could tell.
When I found my seat, I was pleased. I could sit down and not worry if I was wobbly or staggering. If I needed to use the can, it would be in-flight and then you could stagger and no one would notice. The lady sitting next to me was nice. She didn’t say anything to me. She was a mature quail and something of a looker years ago I bet. The quail was supposed to be sitting on the other side of the aisle but an old man that looked like a bird had changed places to sit by his wife. They wanted to sit together because they were like that I guess. The quail was quiet and probably didn’t want to sit by me but she was going home too so it was okay.
I have been on a lot of planes, not as many as some people like the hard-on but enough to know that you should never get shit-faced on a plane. If you needed to throw up in that little toilet, you’d be sorry. I wasn’t going to get shit-faced, you know, just trying to keep that buzz up. It would be forty minutes, probably more, between leaving the gate and getting the next drink on board – you had to be careful. Forty minutes can be a long time. You really needed one for the road while you waited on board but even then you’d have to sit for maybe half an hour. You could look out the window but it wouldn’t change anything, the buzz would be wearing thin and you had to wait. It wouldn’t matter if you were going home or not.
The cabin was dark and seemed stuffy, bright light shone in through the little round windows but I missed the terminal. This is just how it is. The terminal was better than the plane but home was better than the terminal, well maybe not better, I dunno. But you had to suffer the plane to get home and I was going home.
I thought maybe I could sleep, I put my head on the side of the plane. I might be able to sleep for half an hour until the lady would bring the drinks. Then she would look at my coupon that the other lady gave me, and she’d bring me the drink but she’d make a face. They always did. But the drink would be good and keep me even and I would drink it slowly. I was going home and by then and it was all I could do.
I put my head against the side and closed my eyes. The sun was warm and my shoulder and chin got hot. My mouth was open and I probably snored. I slept lightly for a while. I noticed that the plane took off but I didn’t open my eyes. I would sleep a little until the drink cart would come and the lady would take my coupon. I know I snored ‘cause I always do but the quail didn’t mind. We were both going home -- nothing else mattered.
