Yeah… that time.
I had a gut feeling there was something off when the Bob Geldof lookalike was escorted onto the plane by two security guards. My stomach dropped further when I realized David and I were seated right in front of him. Not ideal to say the least.
At the beginning of the flight it wasn’t so bad. I mean, he was obnoxious, but not awful. The flight attendant sat down at the beginning of the flight and warned him he wouldn’t be served liquor – yet another sign something was up.
He would sleep for a minute at a time then wake up and yell across the aisle at the flight attendant. “Oi, Bill, where are we? Is it Reykjavik?” Um… no, we’ve been in the air for 30 minutes. It’s Saskatchewan dude.
As the flight continued he became more obnoxious and more inebriated. My favourite moment was when he stood up from his seats, was more or less standing next to us with a bottle of Grey Goose in hand, half empty. He kept making comments about being a “nasty man” or asking if our flight attendant was on Facebook. Then he made the comments you should never make on airplanes. The four letter B word. THAT was fun.
When he finally leant over our headrests and got in our face to ask about our t.v.’s, I was done. Turns out the crew were already on it, and that is the story of how David and I got upgraded to Club seats. Hello five hours of beautiful sleep and extra leg room.
Thank you Mr. Deportee, whoever you are. Thanks to you overstaying your welcome in Canada, we got to fly in style.