Sea Bass and the New Orleans voodoo
Sitting on the runway, in an economy seat surrounded by no less than 3 crying babies, I am vibrating with excitement for the next few days. Wearing a thrift shop Hawaiian shirt and khakis, the official bachelor party uniform, I am certainly looking like the punchline to a joke or someone who lost a bet. Looking forward to the promise of New Orleans as our destination for 3 days of debauchery, the location of many previous good/bad/ugly decisions in the past. I may not be heading down to New Orleans for Mardi Gras but I do feel like Tim McGraw nonetheless.
The last time I was here I was on tour and the one memory I will never forget, is the moment where I was in line at the Starbucks in the hotel lobby, buying a mug with the city name on it for my parents (they collect them), and in walks our sound guy and lead singer with eyes so bloodshot they clearly haven't slept at all. They ended up having a night on the town with strippers we met the night before, breaking into a wax museum, and drinking at a bar for so long they eventually started serving coffee. Also, I might add, as I was standing in line clutching this mug and a fresh coffee, I see through the window our tour manager crawl out of our van parked in front of the hotel in muggy 35 degree summer heat, and to my surprise one of the strippers from the night before; crawled out as well.
My first flight this time is Edmonton to a connection in Houston, a flight that is very much like all flights: boring. I'm travelling with the maid of honour and although her and I have never flown anywhere together, she has definitely heard the stories. Although i may never live up to some of the stories of my youth, I am determined to make some memories on this trip. If you know me at all you know that i talk a lot of shit. So, in true Daniel form I am going on and on in the cab, security line, customs line, and gate loading line about how I’m sooooo good at getting free drinks on a flight. Now, lets keep in mind this is certainly not my first time flying so I obviously packed my own tiny 50mL bottles of booze in my carry on to alleviate the nonsense that is flying. However, we all know those bottles evaporate into your liver like air into your lungs. I ding the overhead server light button thing like an asshole and wait for my once for-sure-but-still-got-it stunning 60 year old flight attendant. I order the maid of honour and i drinks and drop my ultimate cheesy pickup-esque line that has never failed me to this day: “I hear the first round’s on the house”. She looks at me and smiles, followed with a laughing question: “Oh ya? Where’d you hear that?”.
When faced with adversity one can either rise to the occasion or accept defeat. I rise by carrying out the Sea Bass scene from Dumb and Dumber where I point to the other attendant in the first class area (dare to dream) and say “ That guy. That guy said drinks were on the house”. She gives me a puzzled/concerned look and continues on. I am subject to the maid of honour’s cackles as I sink into defeat. Minutes later I am finished my drink and oh hallelujah the drink cart is coming around. Again I order for us and again I rattle off my stupid line. Same response. Sigh. Sometimes the stars don’t align and sometimes rom coms don’t end up with Matthew McConaughey settling down. I will live to fight another day, as well I will endure the humiliation from the maid of honour as I get more than enough jokes made at my expense once again due to my shit talking nature.
Now. The universe works in strange ways. At this moment I am feeling tipsy and good enough that things like the fact the babies are STILL crying and that United Airline’s snacks actually suck, and that I’ll never actually make it as an NFL wide receiver don’t actually bother me as much as they usually do. However, I am still in the crippling throes of defeat, having to pay for drinks and whatnot. The maid of honour excuses herself to the bathroom. I am dreading the last hour of this flight and in no way am I forfeiting any more of my hard earned money to what I consider an epic failure of a trip. The best girl returns with two handfuls of liquor (whiskey) bottles complete with a huge smile and almost uncontainable laughter. She sits down and begins the tail of her travel to back of the plane. The 60 year old smokeshow attendant pulled her aside and asked “Is that your boyfriend?” to which she confusingly replied “yes?”. The attendant pulls out the drink cart and says “Tell him all his rounds are on the house. Our internet is down so nothing has been charged and these next few rounds are on us".