Airport Alcoholics

planewine

Every time I walk into an airport I am inundated by the memories of tipsy journeys past. My husband was a nervous traveler and although we spent a lot of time in airports, my most lasting memory of traveling with him is of running. We would schlep our heavy carry-ons and sprint up sky scraping escalators from the bowels of tram stops to the gate, because we were GOING TO MISS OUR CONNECTION! The only benefit to traveling in those days was the glass of champagne awaiting my breathless seat arrival, the fact my husband slept on planes and the lack of rules about how many drinks one could order midflight…

I flew with Kim to Moscow and we drank and talked for ten hours straight. We arrived in Russia scratchy eyed and ill prepared for the interrogation we received from a grumpy dominatrix in a politsiya uniform…

Dee and I arrived at the Sheraton Belgravia at 7AM drunk from a sleepless flight, causing a mini-scene in the baggy, saggy lobby where sheiks and our businessmen husbands drank morning tea. The boisterousness of our arrival was an embarrassment to our tidy spouses, the clink-clink of silver interrupted by our American-ness…

On a trip from London to Portugal with Val, we ordered three shooter-bottles of wine at a time, because the flight was full of English holiday makers and we didn’t want to wait for our drinks to be refreshed…

On my way to Flint this week, I had a three hour layover in Chicago. In the old days I would have bought a magazine and headed for the nearest patio bar. I remember many times buying an impromptu membership to an airline club so I could wile away the hours with “free” white wine and Checks Mix…

I could go on and on and on and on…

flight

I guess the bottom line is that this trip I recognized the old land marks (the hidden doors to airline clubs; the shiny green bottles of booze lined up on the kiosk shelves; the conditioned response to join the travelers drinking in the morning because they were on “vacation”) without needing to go there.

I drank coffee. I do not miss the gravely eyes or the dry mouth or the feeling of benign nausea my old habits wrought.

And that’s a journey worth recounting.

Today I’m not drinking because I am on an expedition.

How come you’re not drinking?