First my flight was delayed. Then they changed the airlines. But it was changed to a direct flight rather than having a connection. I would actually arrive an hour earlier. I thought that sounded too good.

Then, as boarding, they tell me my seat had to be changed to balance out the plane. I walked onto the flight with a pissed off attitude. When checking in, I picked a seat in the back of the plane, in a row of three, and I was supposed to be the only passenger in it. I better not have been moved to a full row!

Nope. I was moved to Economy Plus for free. I got upgraded to the seats with more legroom. I had one person in my row, but I guess I shouldn’t complain since I could stretch more. Awww the perks of having a frequent flyer membership! I got settled. Took off my shoes. Started reading. Then a flight attendant brings me a new ticket. “Seat 2f” she says. I thank her and stare at it confused. Is this for my return flight?

“Go to First Class please.”

Woot! Yea! First class baby! I grabbed my stuff, shoved my feet into my shoes, and shuffled to the front without even tying my laces. This should be an awesome flight!

Then why do I keep feeling dread? Like too many good things just happened. Like I am at the top of the roller coaster and I know the scary, downhill part is next. It is not even like I won the lottery or received some amazing life news. I got a better flight and a better seat on a plane. Am I just used to disappointment? Like I feel it is expected.

Since I got to my seat late, the attendant asked if I wanted a cup of water. She did not have time to get me anything else. THANK YOU! No way to tempt me with free booze. “Yes water would be lovely.” Now let’s see how I handle the next 6 hours. “Do you have O’Douls?”

… (an hour later) The woman next to me had white wine.  I could smell it.  It smelled like cheap wine.  Chardonnay?  Then the attendant asked if I wanted wine with my meal.  No thanks.  I really have no desire. And it feels awesome to not have that desire.

… (two hours later) She has had 4 glasses.  They are small.  She is now asleep. I keep smelling the unfinished wine that is sitting on our shared console. I am reading but I keep getting distracted by the scent.  It smells good now.  Cheap or not. But… I can’t remember what it tastes like.  I am enjoying the scent and I don’t REALLY want to sip it. No. Does one want to sip poison even if you enjoy the smell?  I do not want to taste the wine nor taste the guilt that would follow.

We got dessert. A nice ice cream sundae. That is better than cheap wine!

Then I napped. I woke up to a beautiful sunset out my window.

I checked my phone after landing. Had a few messages from bloggers. A few wanted advice to quit drinking. It reaffirmed my decision to not have free cheap wine!

*This blog was actually written at the beginning of my trip and before dealing with my unsupportive friends.

Mistake 140- After my first DUI and I had to stay on a friend of a friend’s couch, I mentioned that I made many mistakes. Let me try to remember them all because I did not write them in my journal from back then. (All my journal entries from back then were just very depressing thoughts.)

The friend I was staying with was a gay guy in the Navy and he had a lot of other gay friends stay over a bunch. I think there was one couch and if someone was staying on it, I got the floor. I was not really a friend anyways. He was doing our mutual friend a favor by letting me stay. Maybe there were two couches?

I remember one night, I brought a guy back to the house. I knew this guy already. So he wasn’t some stranger I picked up in the club that night. But I was very trashed and we had sex on the living room on the floor. With a gay guy on the couch! He started to stop me and say we shouldn’t cause someone else was there but he says I said “it’s okay. He is gay.”

Drunk logic?

The guy that owned the house was very angry. I spent the next week trying to avoid him and the other guys that always stayed over. I kept apologizing via emails. Finally, he cooled down enough just to promise me I would never do that again. I promised. But alcoholics do not always keep their promises.