There was this one time I flew from Detroit to Miami and back to Detroit in one day. I won't say what I was doing. It wasn't exactly illicit, but don't tell my husband. Anyway, this guy sits down next to me and starts yelling orders for drinks—but he wants saki or pernod or something. He's pretty unintelligible except for his desire for alcohol, and we've not even left the gate! A flight attendant comes over and tries to calm the man, assure him that she'll serve beverages during the flight once we're airborne, etc. He's not paying her any mind. She leaves and he gets up to rearrange a bag overhead. And that's when I get the idea. Accidentally on purpose I spill my sports drink bottle on his seat, but I do it subtly while he's occupied up there. When he sits back down, his pants get all wet. That's when I press the “call” button there above us, and up comes a flight attendant. He's bitching about his pants, not really understanding how he got wet (I've stuffed the bottle under my coat), and then I tell the attendant kindly that, yes, I believe the man is drunk and he wet himself. That's all she needs to call security, and the man gets booted off the plane, but not without a scuffle and a few more drink orders.
Originally from Atlanta, Susan Perl lives and works as a bartender in Ypsilanti, Michigan.