24 hours
When the agent sized me up and gave me exit row seats for the 12 hour flight back from Tel Aviv, I thought things might be looking up for the longest leg of this trip. The flight was already delayed an hour, meaning showing up three hours early was looking particularly foolish already, even taking Israeli security into consideration. Perhaps if my hotel had internet connectivity, I might have been able to figure that out. But there are worse things than sitting around an airport for several hours, particularly since I still had a few sheqels to blow at the duty free shop.
The exit row was nice and roomy, and I had high hopes that I might actually be able to stretch out and sleep. A baby seated across the isle tempered my optimism a little bit, but nothing really prepared me for what I was about to experience. The guy next to me had started drinking before the flight. He hated flying, he explained. Hated flying. He repeated that a few times. He asked for a glass of ice, and pulled out a half empty bottle of vodka and proceeded to finish it off. He was from LA, but he'd just gotten out of the Israeli army, which apparently he'd joined on a whim. And he was going to Vegas. He alternated loudly discussing these three topics between myself, the people in front of us, and the people behind us. My attempts to bury my head in a book were completely ineffectual. When he'd finished his own vodka, he started ordering drinks.
When the flight attendants cut him off, he was livid, and decided it was war. He started paging the flight attendants randomly, and trying to cajole the people around him, mainly me, into getting him drinks. When I wouldn't, he resumed paging the attendants. When a baby started having medical issues in our vicinity while we were flying over Greenland, he took the opportunity to harass the the attendants who were attempting to help to get him peanuts. He shouted back at announcements over the PA. When people pointed out he was being disruptive, he would launch into long tirades against them. He was able to keep this up for the entire 12 hour flight. The baby, on the other hand, was supernaturally cute and quiet. Even the other baby, who had the medical issue, was overall more quiet.
The best part was that just because I was seated with the drunken loudmouth, people assumed I was with him. When we parted ways in Toronto, people were suddenly very sympathetic. The flight from Toronto to San Francisco was delayed an hour for mechanical problems on top of having to wait for our late flight. This meant that I got in to San Francisco just about 24 hours after leaving for the airport from Tel Aviv.
The exit row was nice and roomy, and I had high hopes that I might actually be able to stretch out and sleep. A baby seated across the isle tempered my optimism a little bit, but nothing really prepared me for what I was about to experience. The guy next to me had started drinking before the flight. He hated flying, he explained. Hated flying. He repeated that a few times. He asked for a glass of ice, and pulled out a half empty bottle of vodka and proceeded to finish it off. He was from LA, but he'd just gotten out of the Israeli army, which apparently he'd joined on a whim. And he was going to Vegas. He alternated loudly discussing these three topics between myself, the people in front of us, and the people behind us. My attempts to bury my head in a book were completely ineffectual. When he'd finished his own vodka, he started ordering drinks.
When the flight attendants cut him off, he was livid, and decided it was war. He started paging the flight attendants randomly, and trying to cajole the people around him, mainly me, into getting him drinks. When I wouldn't, he resumed paging the attendants. When a baby started having medical issues in our vicinity while we were flying over Greenland, he took the opportunity to harass the the attendants who were attempting to help to get him peanuts. He shouted back at announcements over the PA. When people pointed out he was being disruptive, he would launch into long tirades against them. He was able to keep this up for the entire 12 hour flight. The baby, on the other hand, was supernaturally cute and quiet. Even the other baby, who had the medical issue, was overall more quiet.
The best part was that just because I was seated with the drunken loudmouth, people assumed I was with him. When we parted ways in Toronto, people were suddenly very sympathetic. The flight from Toronto to San Francisco was delayed an hour for mechanical problems on top of having to wait for our late flight. This meant that I got in to San Francisco just about 24 hours after leaving for the airport from Tel Aviv.