To begin, I'd like to recount an experience I recently had on an airplane coming back from Seattle:

I was seated next to a homely teenage girl with pale skin and limp, long blond hair. I was going to ask the flight attendant to move me because I didn't want that oil slick touching my delicate shoulders in the event of turbulence, but then I noticed this young girl clenching her fists. She mainly stared straight ahead. I watch the show Intervention, so I figured she was a drug addict on the way to some rehab place in California, but then the flight attendants started to come by our aisle.

"You ok sweetie?" They would ask.

"Yes," I said, automatically assuming they meant me. But they were talking to her, and within a few visits from various flight attendants, I understood this girl was afraid of flying.

Being naturally good-looking, I wanted to reach out to her.

"Is this your first flight?" I asked her.

"Yes."

"Wow. I know a girl whose brother survived a plane crash. Her name was Berkeley, and we actually played soccer at Berkeley together. What are the odds of that?" I thought that would take her mind off her anxiety, but she just nodded absently and stared ahead.

As I was about to engage her in more storytelling, an obnoxious child seated in front of us popped up and initiated a tiresome game of "What's your name?" This child had obvious severe A.D.D.. The teenage girl answered her each time with, "My name is Renee. What's your name?"

I was about to take my own life after several rounds of "What's your name?" when the magic happened. During beverage service, the flight attendant practically insisted my seatmate have some wine to calm her nerves. "It's ok honey. I'll just give it to you," she said to her. I could tell little Rene was nervous. She kept saying, "No that's alright, I'm fine."

Finally, under my breath, and while coughing, I said, "If she doesn't want it, I'll have it." The flight attendant asked if I said anything, and I said, "What? No, I was just coughing. I'll have some orange juice."

After praying the Rosary or whatever, Renee finally accepted the wine. Halfway into her debauchery, she turned toward me and said, "I'm not 21." Then she finished her wine and accepted another mini-bottle of chardonnay from the flight attendant. I couldn't believe it.

Near the end of the flight, a more relaxed Renee looked out the window and said, "I've never seen palm trees before." Renee was kind of lit. I thought she was going to try and kiss me, but thankfully the little girl with A.D.D. crapped her pants and I put on my oxygen mask to prevent suffocation.

I thought it would be funny to assume the crash landing position as the plane was just about to touch down, but the flight attendant didn't think so, and she told me to get up. As we deboarded, Renee kept stepping on my flip-flops. I said, "Quit giving me flat tires!" but she was too sloppy to understand.
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After this experience, I knew what I had to do. On my flight home yesterday afternoon, I played the part of a young girl terrified of flying.

I'd watched "To Catch A Predator" a couple nights before, so I knew how to dress like a 14 year old. I wore a stupid hat and a hooded surf sweatshirt and I put my hair in two braids. I giggled a lot and kept saying "ha ha that's funny. L-O-L" whenever someone asked me anything.

Before the flight even took off, I sold my case for free booze to anyone who was watching. I splashed some water on my face to look sweaty and pinched my cheeks to make them red. Then I kept rocking back and forth saying, "No, no, no, no, no, no." They ate it up. The flight attendants kept coming by to check on me, and each time, I told them I was really scared. Then I would throw in a "But when are you guys gonna start beverage service?" They'd look at me strangely, but it was just because they were worried about me.

My seatmate was an older Asian man. I think he was actually on "To Catch A Predator" because he kept trying to buy me drinks. But accepting drinks from him would be failing in my mission. I kept my eye on the prize and during beverage service, the flight attendant offered me something to calm my nerves. She went the wine route and offered me a choice of red or white.

I said, "Ummm, well, ummm, I don't know. I mean, I'm just a girl. Ha ha. L-O-L. Maybe, I mean I guess so. Umm, yeah maybe some wine would be good. Or how bout a vodka tonic? Or do you have any Casa Noble or Cuervo Platinum? Ha ha. L-O-L."

She looked at me strangely, but obviously she knew I was very anxious, so she just handed me a mini-bottle of red wine. I smiled sweetly and slammed that baby before she could hand me the plastic cup. With merlot stained lips, I signaled for another. She reluctantly handed me another bottle and left my aisle. I used my call button frequently throughout the flight for more wine, and after awhile I was chatty Kathy with the man next to me. I told him about my favorite parts in "Missing In Action" when Chuck Norris dreams of jumping (in slow motion) onto some Vietkong dudes while holding two grenades. Then about how Chuck Norris booby-traps a jeep and more Vietkong blow up after they fender-bender it. I love those stories, but my Asian seatmate didn't think it was funny. Whatever.

Anyhow, that's how I got free booze. I had to call a taxi when I got to the airport because I didn't want to Leeho it back to the O.C., but I was really proud of myself. And I'd like to take this time to give a shout out to Renee for inspiring me. If you're out there Renee, call me.