As a travel industry doyenne for more years than my fake ID would
suggest, I’m no stranger to the distilled essence of the grape, the cactus or
the humble potato.
I’ve boarded planes vibrating on vodka, wobbling from Wabo and rhumbaing
courtesy of Wray & Nephew rum punch. I’ve even Gangnam’ed down a KE aisle
after some spectacularly sock-it-to-me soju.
But despite everything you’ve heard about me, I’ve never stripped naked
at a security checkpoint (during normal business hours); I’ve never molested a
crew member (who didn’t make the first move) and I’ve never fired up a fatty on
my private plane like the Biebs or Li’l Wayne.
I guess that makes me sane, Pumpkins, unlike so many air pax these days.
The good news is that the more balanced flyers - the ones who can wait
until arrival to get bladdered - aren’t taking any chances these days. As
Newsboy reveals in today’s
Deviation, at the 1st signs of drunken debauchery, fellow pax
unleash the seat belts, duct-tape and tie-wraps, and – presto - drunken
dipstick becomes trussed turkey.
I’ve always believed in taking things into my own hands dahrlings, so I
applaud these first-responding flyers.
