Annabel and I took a red eye flight on Friday night – officially her first plane ride. I was a little nervous because no one wants to be the parent of “that kid,” you know, the one that screams the whole time. Luckily, Annie was a total champ.

But before I knew how she’d do, I had my fingers crossed that I’d be sitting next to a nice person, preferably an older woman or at least a girl who would be like “BABY!” so in case she was fussy, my seat mate would be a help. Then I got to my seat, and I saw that I was sitting next to a guy that looked just like Simon Baker.

Well, not the worst thing in the world, right?

After our plane took off, he turned to me and said, “if the flight attendant comes by and you’re awake and I’m not, would you get me a water?” I agreed and requested the same thing. I fell asleep before she arrived, but I woke up to him asking for my water, and then asking for a red wine and tequila shot. I started hearing very faint warning bells in my mind.

I woke up again at another point and heard him ask for another red wine. And then after a bit more time, ANOTHER red wine (luckily the plane didn’t have tequila). I opened my eyes  and saw that he’d made a mess.

I looked over at him, and he didn’t look like Simon Baker anymore. More like a torn up Billy Bush.

The warning bells were clanging at this point, but I still managed to fall asleep again.

And then. THEN. I woke up to someone snuggling into my shoulder. Disoriented, I thought it was Annie, but she was strapped to my chest. The warning sirens were screeching. IT WAS MY SEAT MATE. SNUGGLING ME. DRUNK.

I sat there for a few moments trying to think if I was too tired to care. I wasn’t. So I started nudging him. Nothing. I pushed harder. Not even a grunt. I reached over with my opposite hand and pushed him off me. His head flopped back over.


In case that isn’t clear enough, here is a better visual:

I shoved him one more time, and he shifted…and let out a burp so horrific that I jumped to my feet. I was only prepared for Annie to barf on me,  not some random drunk trash bag.

I went to the back of the plane and informed a flight attendant about my super awesome seat mate. She was pissed at him and felt awful for me. She put me in a new seat, and even went to my old seat and retrieved all my stuff so I didn’t have to. The rest of the flight was blissfully uneventful.

But Billy Bush now haunts my dreams.