Tuesday, July 24, 2012
My Drunken Regrets
So, I'm currently on bed rest...apparently my baby needs to gain some weight...so hopefully this means a little more blogging. What? What was that? A collective sigh of relief and a...what?...a small tremor of excitement? Yes, I'm officially an unemployed, soon to be mom, so it's on. Bring on the pictures of my new apartment, my baby, some more of my baby, my baby sleeping, my baby opening its eyes...oh it's on blogging world.
So, I'm going a little nuts. Can you tell? I'm five days into my bed rest and it's going really awesome.
Anywayyyyy....so, lately I've been having some very interesting run ins with drunks and not the kind that make me miss college. My first, was on my plane trip home from Cabo. Picture this, the husband and I enjoying our last few minutes of vacation and dreading the inevitable return to reality, when this gentlemen points to the window seat and says, "I think that's mine." At first I wasn't troubled by our airplane buddy, but when he sat down, I immediately caught an unbelievable smell of his drunken weekend and most likely his drunken morning, afternoon and current state. Now, I'm fine with a quiet and passed out drunk, but this guy was just getting started. As soon as he got settled he started to talk to me...and as we all know, drunken conversations are just the best. You know lots of loud outbursts, a slight difficulty with focusing, inappropriate comments like, "Can I touch your baby?" and general sharing of too much information, like his girlfriend didn't come to Cabo with him because she's most likely cheating on him. Finally, we ascended into the air, and after a few moments of reprieve, the forsaken complimentary drinks came around. Yep, things got worse. He started with some gin and then moved to vodka and soda. Once those kicked in, he put his earphones on and proceeded to pound on his pull out tray and dance around. Mind you this was not a small man and after awhile his moves began to encroach on my space. Finally, the husband hit him and asked, "Are you on something?" Again, a rational question to a dancing, drunk man on an airplane probably wasn't the best idea, and only encouraged him to increase his movements. Finally, we landed and after an awkward good-bye, that really should have consisted of me kicking him the shins, we parted ways.
Looking back on the situation I'll admit I have some regrets. One, I wish I had said, "Wait does your girlfriend live in Santa Monica? Yes, I saw her - she's definitely cheating on you. 100%." The guy was drunk - why didn't I prey on his inebriation? Two, I wish I had told the stewardess that the man next to me kept talking about a bomb. Sure, we would have been forced to land somewhere between Cabo and LA, but come on, I would have loved to see some police officers grab him and start yelling "terrorist!" (Because in my mind that's what police officers do with potential bomb threats.) And third, I wish, after he offered to buy me a drink, I had gone off about my ten years in rehab for alcoholism and abuse. And just when he goes to apologize for offering a recovering addict a drink, I continue with the time I killed someone with my car while I was drunk. Again, there's nothing more fun than messing with a drunk person.
Oh the regrets. When will I ever get this life right?