After a great weekend in
What is it with French air travelers having too much drink? There were three French guys in row five who must have spent a considerable time at the airport bar before the flight, because almost immediately it became apparent that they were loaded. Sadly, I don’t speak French, but still heard every word of their conversation (readily audible to me two rows back) over the roar of the 737-300 engines. Whatever they were saying must have been funny, because they repeatedly broke into laughter at the top of their lungs.
Seated in front of me was a Romanian lady who was frightened of flying. Six times during the flight she asked one of the FAs how much longer till landing and her eyes nervously darted around the cabin as she firmly clutched her arm rests, letting go only to check her watch.
Thankfully for the lady, the flight was very smooth—until we started our descent into
As we neared the airport, with a lot of bumps, the lady kept leaning out into the aisle and shaking her head at the purser, even flailing her arms a bit, as if he could do anything about it.
We landed and the drunken French guys, still laughing, let out a round of applause. The whole plane decided to join in…