There are many, many, many things I hate in life.. but nothing.. and I mean NOTHING is worse than flying hung over. Flying hungover is literally the most cruel and unusual form of punishment that I somehow consistently inflict on myself.
Let’s be frank, flying in general isn’t really a great time, which is why there are so many bars in airports, so you can get as drunk as humanly possible before boarding one of those pieces of scrap metal. Majority of the time the first flight is always the best, cause most likely you’re with your boys crushing airport beers at 8 a.m. You’re all jacked up cause you’re probably heading somewhere dope to drop money on beers at bars in other parts of the country, just to realize you still have no game wherever you go. You probably thought that going out in another part of the world would get you laid. You were wrong. Anyways, the in-flight is always a good time. Slugging drinks at 30,000 feet in the air and getting a nice buzz on before your trip even starts is a feeling like no other.
Fast forward to the end of your trip. For some reason, your dumbass booked a 9 a.m. flight, which means you have to be at the airport by 7:30 at the latest. You were most likely out until at least 4 a.m. filling your stomach with Busch Lattes and car bombs and now you’re gonna wake up still drunk. When you do wake up from your slumber, you realize you gotta throw all your shit in your suitcase and rush to the airport. While sitting in the Uber, you are hit with that old familiar feeling, a God-damn hang over. Now, you rush to get your bags checked, just to sit in a long ass security check line while trying to fight off the symptoms of morning sickness. The whole time you know you reek of booze and just trying not to puke. If you’re lucky, you didn’t accidentally leave any drugs or contraband in your luggage and you’re able to make it through the metal detector and that stupid luggage conveyor belt. Now, you have rush to the bathroom, go straight to the handicap stall and just unload. For me, this is a tale as old as time. I have puked so many times in the bathroom of an airport I’ve lost count.
Now here comes the absolute worst part. The actual flight. You’ve got to strut your stuff through a crowded, hot, smelly airplane, while you’re on your deathbed of hangovers. Getting stuck in the middle seat is just adding insult to injury. There you are, just waiting on the runway waiting for this fucking plane to take off. This is where all your symptoms hit you at once and make life really not worth living. You suddenly get the cold sweats, your mouth gets dry, your head is spinning, and the change in air pressure just adds gasoline to the fire. You literally have to talk yourself out of fainting right then and there. This will be the most uncomfortable 3 hours of your life trust me, there will be many times you just wish the plane would take a nose-dive. Man I wouldn’t wish a hung-over flight on my worst enemy, probably because my worst enemy is myself but still.
If you can conquer a flight while being deathly hung-over you can take over the world. The worst part is, you can’t wait to do it all over again.