Regarding flying

    Morning brings a vaguely coffee scented beverage on a jumbo jet, then fine Sonoma wine on a twin engine turbo prop. The drinks seem to be getting better as the planes get smaller.
   I begin to wonder what I'll get in the cab, but no, no such luck.
    On the return trip there is a delay, so they offer free beer. The Flight attendant opens a jug of high end micro brew, and gets no other takers, which results in many free refills for me. 40 minutes later I get to the airport, and find it a challenge to walk without alerting security. I have 4 hours to kill before my connecting flight so I do some absentminded shopping. Airports have almost anything you can imagine in micro packs. 2 aspirin. 2 peptos. a single pack of alka-seltzer, tiny deoderent, a pre-pasted single use toothbrush.
     I amuse myself by going shop to shop looking at all the mini offerings, and as I sober up slightly, I realize I am hungry, so I try and find some decent food. At this hour, the only place open is an airport sports bars that offers appetizers, and more booze. "When in Rome" I figure, and take a seat in the corner. "Make it tall" the menu says "1 dollar more".  A seductive printed whisper seeming to wink at me from the page decorated with nachos, hotdogs, hot wings and margaritas.
   "a shot on the side!" it coos, "only a dollar". like a strip joint for your sobriety, a lap dance for the liver.
    My connecting flight is late, so the flight attendant gives me Courvoisier, on the house.
Expensive brandy and a mini bag of pretzels. I drift off into uneasy dreams of dimly lit theaters, and wake up in a different state, still flying. The lights are dim, and I can hear soft snoring around me. The flight attendant is back with another bag of pretzels,
"Another drink sir?"
 I manage a sleepy smile. "Sure" I say, and look out the window. The twinkling lights below seem to have star filters, making each pin point a brilliant display. She hands twin bottles of Brandy, and as I fumble for my wallet, she waves it away with a smile and a wink.
"After Hours" she says.
   I don't argue.
    I pour the minis into my plastic cup, and then whisper a toast to no one in particular.
   "To flying"