Some say flying drunk is great. A little alcohol to calm your nerves and hey, what else are you going to do while trapped in metal tube soaring through the air for hours?
Personally, I’m not exactly a big drinker so never experience drinking any alcohol on a plane let alone being drunk on a plane. The thing with me and planes is that they put me to sleep. I’m most likely fast asleep before the plane leaves the runway. There’s something about the noise of the engines starting up that sounds like a lullaby… I’m weird, I know.
Even though I’ve never experienced flying drunk, I have made the mistake of flying hungover. So please, learn from my mishap and NEVER FLY HUNGOVER.
After spending 1 year living in Germany, it was time to head back to home to Canada. I would have to leave my little German village at 6:30am to catch my flight from Frankfurt. So, being the most responsible and prepared I’ve ever been in my entire life, I packed all my things the day before. Seriously, this may have been the only time I’ve ever packed before the day of departure.
It just so happens my host family’s daughter was coming back from her exchange in Estonia the day before I left. It worked out well that I became friends with her group of friends and we ended up having a joint “Welcome Home/Goodbye” party. And of course, what’s a German party without a few beers? With my bags packed, it was time to just enjoy my last night.
While I thoroughly enjoyed my last night in Germany, I did not enjoy the 6am wake-up call of my last morning in Germany. I got up with foggy eyes and dizzily stumbled out to my pre-packed suitcases. Trying to still be a good little exchange student, I attempted to stay awake and engage my former host-sister who took up the responsibility of getting me to the airport so early. Needless to say my attempt failed but I did make it to the airport.
Now, I just needed to check in and find my gate. Simple tasks for the normal flyer but for the hungover one, not so easy. I eventually found where to check in and drop off my bags once a nice airport worker pointed out I was in the completely wrong area. The struggle was real at security, fiddling with my backpack and jewelry. I’m sure they suspected something was off with me. And after walking the entire length of the Frankfurt airport (not exactly a small airport if you didn’t know), I could finally sit and maybe keep an eye out for the other Canadian exchange student that I was flying home with.
We got on the plane, found our seats, and now I just needed to make it through the next 8 hours. This is where I thought things would get easy. Like I said, I have the tendency to fall asleep on planes. But behold, I got saddled with the middle seat. I had no window to curl up against in attempt to sleep off my misery. This wasn’t going to be an easy flight.
Oh, I haven’t mentioned what I was wearing yet. The best part of this whole thing is what I was wearing! While hungover you really just want to be comfortable and the same thing goes with flying in general. But I was just forced to pack my whole life into 2 suitcases while still trying not to go over the weight limit because I was flat broke at this point and couldn’t afford the overage cost. Since they can’t weigh what I’m wearing, I had a tank top, t-shirt, sweater, leggings, jeans, boots, baseball hat, sunglasses, 3 necklaces, and about 100 bangle bracelets between my 2 arms. I felt and sounded like a walking tambourine… Did I mention this all happened in August? Yea. I was boiling hot.
So, here I am, stuck in the middle seat tired, hungover, uncomfortable, and sweating more than I’d like to admit. All I want to do is sleep but can’t because I’m unable to sleep for more that 15 minutes at a time thanks to the middle-seat-sleeping-head-bob I had going on. Seriously, these were the longest 8 hours of my life. The flight to Germany was easy. I didn’t sleep then thanks to my nerves and instead watched 4 movies. I had an aisle seat and comfy clothes on. Time past by so fast. But no, it was the exact opposite on my way home.
The plane finally touched down in Toronto after what felt like days and I made my best attempt to not seem hungover to customs or my parents. By this point I don’t think I was still hungover, I was just wrecked from my personal flight from hell.
So, I learned my lesson to never fly hungover… Though I can’t say I actually learned anything. I have since taken buses and ferries for hours while hungover. It’s all the same really… and none ended up well.