Return Flight

By: Laura K.

I settle in, order coffee, close my eyes. At least I got upgraded. It’s six AM, but it’s been such a horrendous week, I almost want a drink.

The window-seat guy stumbles up last-minute, apologizes. Orders a double scotch.  Unbidden, he recounts his journey to the airport. “We went ATVing last night and got lost! I just left the rental car in the parking lot! …I think I’m still drunk.”

I want to judge, but I’m giggling uncontrollably.

“Dude,” I say. “Have you seen ‘The Hangover’?”

He laughs. “Yeah! …Wanna see this?” Grins.

I shit you not: a gold tooth.

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