Of Drunkards and Seatbelt Extensions

Chicago to Fort Myers.
Everyone please remind me to refrain from ever doing that leg of a journey EVER again.

First off; seat belt extensions are prohibited in the exit row. This rule is implemented due to the lengthening of the seat belt once the extension has been added. This could, of course, impede an expeditious exit should an emergency occur. And, of course, on to the plane walks a woman who weight at least 350 pounds and will definitely be in need of an aforementioned extension.
Please don't sit in the exit row, the incantation revolves in my mind.
Crap, there she goes. 21A.
The poor man beside her was leaning out into the aisle because he was unable to sit upright. I'm pretty sure he was inebriated - he babbled incessantly and about nothing.
Samantha, my trusty L2 flight attendant in the back, kindly - and as discreetly as possible - informed the woman she would have to move to a different seat should she need the extension. She then informed Sam that she needed the leg room and didn't want to move.
Yay!
The flight was full and every person with working eyes on board was going to see the woman have to get up and move. There was no where to put her that she could fit except business class - which was full, too.
We then called the gate agent supervisor down to beg a business class passenger to switch seats with the woman...finally we moved her to the front of the plane where she could fit AND use her extension legally.

Fast forward to beverage service.
I asked all my business class passengers what they would like to drink. I get to 3C, where my friend has moved, and she asks for a Bailey's on the rocks. I got a little miffed because she didn't pay for this seat, we were trying to be nice to accommodate her, and then she expected a free drink. Okay, she can have one, I told myself.
2D and 2F were steroid-popping, heavily tattooed, tanning-bed baked gay men. It was completely unexpected, you know, like when the tough Army sergeant in the movie drops the soap and ends up loving it.
*ahem*
Anyway, the "woman" in the relationship was nice - the "man" not so much.
But, I digress.
Within five minutes seat belt extension has asked for a Vodka Cranberry. I sigh and accordingly bring her the order. Another ten minutes, she wants another Bailey's. At this point I'm really getting irritated. ( I said to 'im, you pop that gum one more time...and he did) - Sorry, that was a Chicago quote. =)
Ten minutes more pass - and she asks for ANOTHER Vodka Cranberry. I give it to her but am going to tell her it's the last one if she asks for another.
About thirty minutes pass and nothing. Good.

During that thirty minutes, however, a woman in the main cabin comes up to use the lav. Oh. My. Gosh. She REEKED of alcohol! I HATE the smell of liquor anyway, and ESPECIALLY the stench of it on someone's clothes and breath!
She stood there laughing about nothing in particular and then tells me that she has not flown in ten years because every time she gets on a plane the plane crashes, the engine catches fire, or the wings fall off. According to statistics, I'd have to say she is the most unlucky person in the universe.
*sigh* Drunks, wow.
She then proceeds to tell me how rowdy of a passenger she always is, and that she now only flies "super-something". I wish I could remember what it was she said, but when I questioned her, not knowing what it meant, she said, loudly, and right in my face, along with one of those breathy laughs you see intoxicated people have in the movies, "DRUNK! HAHAHAHAHA!!!"

*enter a stretcher for Meredith as she passes out on the floor*

Back to seat belt lady. We are experiencing quite a bit of bad turbulence, and of course the seat belt sign comes on. Let's just call seat belt lady 3C. 3C gets up to use the lav. We ask her to be seated as it isn't safe to be up.
"Oh, don't worry," she told us. "My dad is a pilot, I do this all the time."
WHAT?
"Ma'am, that's a bit irrelevant right now."
Frankly, I wasn't as concerned for her safety as the safety of the passengers she may have smothered to death had she fallen on them. I'm sure she had enough padding to prevent a major injury to herself. Sheesh.
As she goes back to her seat, she - oh yes, she did - ask for ANOTHER drink. It wasn't the amount she was drinking as much as it was the PRINCIPLE of the matter. She was taking major advantage of us doing her a favor at this point. The other flight attendant jokingly suggested I pour out the Vodkas from the bottle and replace it with water to see if she noticed.
So, I did it! I thought it would be funny, plus I was so over this woman. SHE DID NOT EVEN NOTICE. She had asked for another one within ten minutes. I did the same thing with this one. When she asked for a Bailey's I knew I couldn't fake that one and so I told her we were about to land and service was over.
UGH. I was so over that woman by the end of that flight! Actually, I was so over everyone. The man who switched with the seat belt lady started getting lip with Samantha because she didn't have a computer on board to tell him RIGHT THEN when he was going to get his free voucher for giving up his seat.

Not to mention horrid-breath-lady-who-sho

uld-have-died-ten-years-ago-according-to-statistics
wants to have two beers. I tell her I can't serve her any alcohol because she "appears to be intoxicated". Thank goodness she complied, saying, "That's okay, doll, just cancel those beers." She grabbed my sweater as I walked away, pulling me back unexpectedly to say she "loved the sweater!!!"

Last night we had a medical emergency - a guy began having blood pressure problems during a VERY bumpy landing. We didn't know how bad he was until we landed. I rushed back to his seat to check on him, finding out that he couldn't speak due to his attack and that his wife, of a different nationality than he was, spoke very little English! GREAT! I had no idea what was going on. I kept asking if he needed orange juice because his wife managed to say diabetes. I didn't know, though, if it was shock or coma, and each need different treatment. Thank God we were at the gate soon. We called emergency medical assistance on board to take care of the guy - poor thing, he was whiter than I have EVER seen a living human being, not to mention the sweat streaming off of him and the full bag of vomit he held in his hand. Ugh.
If his wife knew of his condition I think she should at least learn how to speak the English needed to help her husband in a future situation.

Okay, well, that's all for now.

It's Christmas Eve and I'm in Dayton, Ohio. Yay.
Tomorrow I'll be in Kansas City, Missouri, where at least it will be my first WHITE CHRISTMAS!! =) That's kind of exciting.
It would have been more exciting should a certain someone called to let me know he was taking me out like he was supposed to, but according to a wonderful new book I just found by Greg Behrendt, "He's Just Not That Into [Me]."

It's actually very liberating as ironic as that may sound.
Don't ever call a guy, ladies.
As this good book says

"He's just not that into you if he's not calling you. Men don't forget how much they like you, so put down the phone. If he's not calling you, it's because you're not on his mind."

Ouch, I know, but a breath of fresh air in a weird way.
Every girl should read the book.
It's amazing.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

Love you!