They got me on a much later flight so I had time to drink a couple airport margaritas. This made everything better. Well, it made me more hazy. When I finally got on the plane there was a 20ish looking boy beside me. We bonded over the smelly hippy across the aisle. I quickly fell asleep because it was late and I was completely wasted on tequila and Ativan. Some time later I had one of those falling dreams, the kind you wake up with a jump. I jumped almost out of my seat and grasped what I thought were the arm rests as hard as I could. My left hand as it turns out was squeezing this poor boys upper thigh. I'm sure I left a bruise.
Is there a moral to this story? Yes! Several, be careful what you wish for. When there are a million signs saying don't go somewhere...don't go! It's going to be a disaster...and hot damn was it ever! And most importantly, Ativan and tequila shouldn't be mixed.