Just my luck there were three of them on my flight from Denver to Dodge City - morons, not babies. The baby on the flight from Minneapolis to Denver was much quieter than the three grown men who had obviously visited the bar during their layover. Here's a quick travel tip. Don't get on a turbo-prop plane and slur "we're going down." I'm not sure if the pilot didn't hear them, did hear them and didn't care, or just didn't care. Either way, the pilot was no help.
On a turbo-prop you have no flight attendants. It's two pilots, you can see (in fact you can see out the windshield over their shoulder. They don't exactly have time to take care of unruly passengers. I was sitting in the exit row, and like clockwork, the pilot came and asked me if I was able to take care of helping other passengers in the event of an emergency. I nod, because let's face it. If we go down we won't be needing my assistance.
The drunk jackass behind me says, "will you save me, baby?"
Now, for those of you who don't know me. This is not exactly what I would call a good idea.
I turned. "Actually, probably not going to matter, but if it did I doubt you'd be at the front of my list."
He passed out seconds later. It was bliss. The other idiot and the somewhat sober guy sitting a few seats ahead were yelling back and forth. "You know if we go down it's because of the electric guy up there, it's all electricities fault."
"We're going down! We're going down!" Keep in mind, we haven't even pulled away from the gate yet. This is why I think the pilots were avoiding confrontation. It was raining, they wanted to get going and it wasn't worth causing a big scene for. The gal in front of me works for an animal health company and she turns and says, "I think you should shut the hell up before I take you down."
For the record, only cute blonde girls can get away with saying this. If I would have said it they probably would have challenged me, and I wasn't in the mood to kick anyone's ass. I was tired.
The second guy passed out, and then his phone rang as we taxied. See, this is where I got really frustrated. How hard is it to follow instructions. Apparently, if it wasn't twist off and sip they weren't listening. He proceeds to answer the phone.
"Hey dumbass are you going to pick us up?" He is quiet for a blissful second. "You better make sure you got that bottle of whiskey opened." Another blissful moment. "Man, I gotta go, we're about to take off," he starts giggling. "Yeah, but we're going down anyway - so cell phones don't matter."
He then hung up and passed out for about the third time. This time he stayed passed out until the landing gear came down. He then slapped his drooling, sunglasses wearing (in the dark) buddy. "Get up man, we have drinking to do."
Really? They haven't done enough already?
Once we got off the plane and into the terminal they were even louder once their buddy showed up to pick them up. They were jumping around, laughing, and being dumber that before. If you can imagine I was not amused.
I could have clipped one with my car on the way out of the parking lot, but I held back. I was tired. I didn't have time for a visit from the cops.
I had taken Dramamine for motion sickness. It's unfortunate they don't have some sort of pill that helps block out morons. Oh, they do? Oh, that's right. It's called Valium.
Note taken.
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