We're on a plane coming in to Boston. The dour male stewardess is collecting empty cups and other such garbage in a big old trash bag, nicely illustrating how far we have come from the days when flying was a Big Deal. Some guy jostles the woman sitting next to him; he nervously apologizes, and she nervously says it's okay. Elsewhere, a woman is thanking God they're landing. "I hate flying," she says to the guy next to her. "So you've mentioned. Repeatedly," he says wearily, completely embarrassing the poor white-knuckler. I think, given the chance between sitting next to nervous flyer or rude asshole, I'll take the nervous flyer. She gets up to go to the bathroom, and we hear a sound-collage of obnoxious passengers making demands on this poor guy, who is apparently the only flight attendant on board. "Still waiting on that third pillow," says some snotty woman snottily, and the steward explains that the flight is full and all the pillows are out, even though in all the shots we've seen, only one person is using a pillow, a woman sleeping next to the nervous flyer. Then the rude guy tells the steward, "I need a drink," and the steward mutters "so do I" and then informs the asshole that drink service is over since they'll be landing shortly. Rude asshole glares at him. Only once in my life have I drunk on a plane, and it was when I was flying from Calgary to Halifax for my university graduation and I noticed that the girl in the seat next to me had an athletic bag with a Keith's logo on it, Keith's being this great beer made in Halifax that pretty much turned me in to the alcoholic I am today, and at the time it wasn't really available widely across Canada so I figured she must be from Halifax too, and we struck up a conversation, me being quite happy not to be stuck sitting next to a colicky baby or some obnoxious windbag. I mean, I was just glad to have the chance to be the obnoxious windbag for once. And she was going back to Halifax for graduation too, so eventually we decided to celebrate by ordering beers for what was the first time for both of us, and how geeky we must have seemed to the stewardess as we joked with her that we'd never ordered alcohol on a plane before but we were celebrating, and the stewardess was all, "Congratulations! That will be twenty dollars," for the two beers, at which point I almost choked until I realized she was kidding, even though the actual price for two beers on a plane was not really that far off. And so we each wound up having a couple of beers, and I'm not sure if there's something about being on a plane or if I hadn't had a lot to eat that day or what, but both of us managed to get a decent buzz from only two beers, but we were both that kind of laughing happy beer-drinkers, which must have been awfully pleasant for everybody else on the plane. And of course I get off in Halifax where my relatives are waiting for me, with my aunt more than happy to call my mom back home and tell her Danny got off a plane and he and the floozy hanging off him were both drunk.