Ahh, miles above earth, zipping through the clouds, feeling light as a feather, and hearing little Johnny in the seat in front of me screaming bloody murder. "Little Johnny, hunny, what's wrong," says his mother. Perpetual screaming follows. And follows. So, what's a girl to do when she's in for another five hours on a flight? IPOD earphones in to zone out the noise. Check. Seat reclined as far as it will go for maximum relaxation. Check. Uncomfortable and still irritated. Check. Alright, enough is enough. I want to sleep, and I want to sleep now! Not just a light sleep, where I'll go in and out of hearing Little Johnny's screams, but a deep, alcohol induced, drool coming out of the side of my mouth, eyes shut to the world, not gonna wake me up for a soda, pretzel or plane crash sleep. Yeah, that kinda sleep. Flagging down the flight attendant, I request some wine, red, as always. She doesn't even blink and eye, and in a minute is back with my own personal bottle of delicious sleeping medicine. Gulp, gulp, guuuulllllllllllppp. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I chug almost all of it, not needing to drain the contents because I already feel sleep coming on as a hit two-thirds of the bottle. I seal the bottle, put my tray table up and lean back, eyes closed, waiting for sleep to come. Seconds later I'm in la la land. No Little Johnny screaming, no annoying shifting in my seat, no messages from the pilot on the loud speaker, just unadulterated coma inducing sleep. Good night.
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