Rio - Leaving Dallas On A Bonus

There are some distinct advantages of living in a group of townhomes mostly occupied by flight attendants. They know whats happening in every major city, when moved to have you accompany them on flights they can usually plop you into a seat for a minimal charge and then ... there is the bonus of 'special friend treatment' when you happen onto one of their flights.

Wednesday, my departure day to Rio, started like any other: I got up at 7am, obligatory 3 cups of caffiene to prevent drowning in the shower, classes from 8-1230, lunch with my friend Lauren, then the mad dash to DFW, park, shuttle, check in, security and wait. I was cutting it close that day so it wasn't much of a wait, I arrived as they called my group number to board. Strolling into the small walkway and crossing the galley to the far side of the 767 I felt a sense of release.

I'M GOING TO RIO! YAY!

Thats when I saw her. I know her. I just can't place her. I looked at her with that cockeyed 'puppy hears a strange noise' look, she reciprocated, in the opposite direction, just for the sake of symmetry or balance I suppose. Then, simultaneously, we recognized each other. We hugged, commented on how strange it was to see each other out of context, laughed, then she escorted me to my seat.

'I'll come back to check on you after we get in the air', she said.

I love the lift off, the momentum, seeing the city disappear behind me, smaller and smaller, cares I had just 15 minutes ago, becoming as temporary and disposable as the popsicle stick and Elmers bridge I made in high school science class. 'We've reached our crusing altitude' is simply code for blank out your mind. My friend came back several minutes after the fasten seat belt sign went away.

"I'm so sorry Jim, we were not be able to get you the upgrade to first class, will business class be acceptable?", she smiled mock concern.

"Oh, well, I suppose that will be fine", I tried to keep the air of concern without saying 'Business class? Are you kidding me, sign me up! woo hoo!'

Off I went to business class, smiling my ambilvalence at not being able to get my non-existent upgrade to first class. Free Skyy Tonics flowed; 4, 5, 10, I dont know I lost track of how many little blue bottles she brought around. I'm sure my row mate thought I was a budding alcoholic, judging by the looks.

I leaned over to my row mate and said. "First time in a plane."

"OOHH ... I totally understand. Its nothing really, flying, you just have to get used to it.", he smiled all-knowing , the well-seasoned traveler consoling the neophyte.

Right, OK, so how about another Skyy Tonic while I try to forget I've been on more flights than some pilots.

Free snacks, headphones and 'Jim, could you stop by and see me in the galley when you have a chance'. Sure, if I can pry my wobbly legs out of this comfy reclining seat and somehow disengage from my personal DVD player. I did. In the galley my friend had made me a little care package to take on my trip to Rio: dozens of little Skyys, Makers Marks, Baileys, wine, spa treatments, corkscrews. The travel bag weighed about 20 lbs. Wow!

She really made the first leg of my trip very special. Thanks sweetie, you know who you are!

3 hours and many Skyy Tonics later I arrived in Miami, drunk.


Rio de Janeiro