...I think. Some spoddy human geographer sort (like Dan) can correct me if I'm wrong but I think it's 22 million, which makes it a big old place and probably the biggest city in the world. So what do you do on a flight to a megatropolis like that, a heaving throng of foreign bodies, all jabbering away in a different language with a different culture; in short a daunting place to land at 10pm? What I did was get drunk on the plane. Yeah, nice one Pants!
As always it wasn't really my fault. I mean at $5 a sniff, drinking booze on United can be an expensive business. But I wasn't paying, I was simply availing myself of the free wine that was coming back from first class and being redirected to my fold down tray courtesy of a charming air stewardess (or whatever they're called these days). I think she was conducting some social experiment or something because I don't recall asking for it. Result: I got a bit pished.
Oh yeah, this was after I came as close to wetting myself as I ever have without actually doing it. I mean, I have actually wet myself a few times. Haven't we all? In fact I've probably done it more than most - laughing so hard whilst staying at Cameron Allen's house I spat Golden Nuggets out of my nose and wet my PJs; another time trying not to show myself up in front of Perrin McCormick I decided not to pee in the street coming back from the student union bar only to pee myself when I got scratched by a cat she had stopped to stroke - impressive. And I'm not the only one, I later learnt that Will Anderson wet himself in his sleep on his first night in Mexico City (allegedly), he claimed it was from jet lag...hmmm, and as for John 'The Baptist' McCann his self-peeing stories are legendary so I was in good company. No this near miss was on the plane and was simply a product of too much coffee and water at Washington airport and the pilot not turning the seat belt light off until about an hour after take off. I should have simply got up out of my seat and explained that my back teeth were floating but I seem to have an overt and probably unhealthy respect for authority.
I digress. So Mexico City airport, by now about 11pm and I'm a bit giddy. I was having trouble filling in my immigration form - the print was so small and badly printed I think and someone had clearly coated the form in butter or something as it kept slipping out of my hand. At this point I met two French assistants in the form of Robert & Anne who, having been to Mexico City before, helped me fill out the form, guided me onto the underground, took me to my hotel that I had had the foresight to pre-book and then we all went out for...errr...some more drinks that were strictly a little unneccessary for me. I've always liked the French. Robert & Anne, I can't thank you enough! Robert bore an uncanny resemblance to Robert de Niro as well, which entertained me greatly...for some reason.
No comments:
Post a Comment