Tales of a high-altitude coffee and tea dispenser

by hiigaran

9: Distilleries of the Skies

Have you ever served alcohol before? No? Alright, allow me to fill you in on a few details. There are many types of drinkers. Some drink to get a light buzz, others like the taste, a few do it out of peer pressure or because they think it is a social norm, and then you have the ones that simply don't know when to stop. Mind you, there are countless reasons why one would drink, but these are some of the common ones. The group you primarily have to worry about are the latter, especially if they are angry drunks, as opposed to happy or loud drunks.

When it comes to dealing with passengers who have consumed enough alcohol to take down a dragon, you sometimes need to get creative in the way you manage the situation. For instance, back when I was still three or four months into the job, I had encountered a particularly intoxicated griffon who had boarded, likely enjoying himself a little too much in one of the bars back in the terminal. The doors hadn't even closed yet, and he was already asking my colleagues for cider. Again, our operations manual outlines how we handle situations when passengers are showing different signs of intoxication. Loud and demanding drunks will either get their drinks delayed and diluted, or outright denied, depending on the specific behavior.

After hounding my colleagues like this creepy fellow I once saw in a nightclub doing to passing mares, I decided to intervene and speak to the passenger myself. "Cider" and "Now" were the only two words the feathery feline managed to slur. In economy class, we normally serve a cider by providing a plastic cup, and a can of Sweet Apple Acres Original, Sweet Apple Acres Light, or Zebrinian Dry. Those are the only three choices for the peasants in working class. So when our griffon friend continued insisting on a can of cider, I told him that we were currently very busy, but that I would personally get him his drink now and if he wanted more, I'd get it after take-off. Since the can is about twice as large as the cup, I decided instead to pour the cider into the cup, minimizing the amount he would drink, but not before making half the cup nothing but ice. That way, it won't seem watered down, and it fools most passengers by giving them less to drink. Now I think it goes without saying, but this should be done out of sight of the passenger.

Sometimes, however, you may come across a passenger that is so wasted, they won't even know the difference between a shot of vodka, or a watered-down excuse of a fermented potato. In cases like this, get your cup full of ice, add the water first, then gently pour a portion of the alcohol into the cup. Since water density is higher than alcohol, the important stuff stays on top, fooling the drinker into thinking the alcohol is stronger than it actually is. You can also wet the rim of the cup with alcohol to further the illusion. Again, all done out of sight.

Not too long ago, my crew and I were operating a night flight out of Baltimare, bound for Vanhoover. Service had finished, leaving us with a good hour before top. As my crew were preparing several silver trays with a selection of water and juices, a unicorn stumbled into the galley, barely able to keep his balance, despite using one of the counter tops for support. Squinting around, his bloodshot eyes landed on me.

"My friend," he started. He opened his mouth, but paused, raising a hoof as if telling us to wait. Gazing off into the distance and thinking for several long seconds as to what he would say next, he finally continued, "Two vodkas."

Yeah, wasn't going to happen. The symptoms of alcohol intoxication, along with symptoms caused by an environment of reduced oxygen will combine, exacerbating themselves and making the user feel more drunk than usual. Judging by what we saw, this fellow definitely had his fair share. "Sorry, we are going to be landing soon. We have already closed the bars." I decided to lie.

Ignoring my response, he turned to the mare beside me. "My sister! Two vodkas. And a whiskey." The mare in question simply shifted her eyes between booze pony and myself, unsure of what satisfactory response she could come up with.

"Like I said, buddy, the bars are closed," I showed him one of the bar carts, and pulled on the handle; the handle that was not meant to open the cart's door. "See? Flight is almost over."

Shuffling closer, he draped a hoof around me and nuzzled my cheek, whispering, "My friend, I know you can do this little thing for me, my friend." As he did this, he pulled a bit out and slipped it into a pocket on my uniform. A single bit. I'd have laughed at risking my job for one bit, if I hadn't been so uncomfortable with being cheek to cheek with a pony who acted like a cat rubbing his scent on everything.

"Okay, I'll tell you what," I leaned away, attempting to shield myself from the shimmering breath of a thousand alcoholics. "For a rich and generous pony like you, I'll check with business class and see if they have any of the good vodka. If you go back to your seat, I'll have it sent straight to you. That sound good?"

"Is good, my friend! You good pony, friend!" he bellowed, hugging me and promptly leaving, faceplanting twice in the process.

I had a thing or two to say to my crew about failing to monitor alcohol consumption. Still, I managed to teach a couple of the newbies how to simultaneously delay and dilute a drink.

Unfortunately, it doesn't always end well when it comes to not monitoring alcohol consumption. During my early days when I had been freshly promoted to business class, I had operated a Manehattan to Canterlot flight, mostly packed with those on business. Having already been in the company for about three years at this stage, my cabin crew senses were honed quite well, and glancing around at the business class cabin that had almost completed boarding, I had a strong suspicion that something was wrong. Just this feeling of impending doom.

Doing a quick sweep of the cabin, I observed the passengers. Not a single one wore a smile. In fact, many appeared tired, irritable, or both, but the majority had all taken advantage of several servings of alcohol before the doors had even closed. Not sure who had served those, but it certainly wasn't me. Halfway down the right side of the cabin, I noted a couple arguing quite vocally in the two outboard seats 10J and 10K, with the wife continually blaming her husband for ruining their vacation, or something. Before I could listen in to more of the conversation, my concentration broke as I heard something else nearby.

"Psst."

Glancing back, I tried to find the source of the sound.

"Psst!" The passenger at 10B on the left outboard aisle seat made himself known, tugging on my tail. "'ahtaj aljalid i shraby, hehehe." he whispered, pointing discretely to a small flask nestled within the inner pocket of his jacket and looking quite proud of himself. I wasn't quite sure what the stallion wanted, but judging by what he was pointing to, the droopy face one might almost confuse for a stroke, and the slurred speech, I'm guessing it had something to do with alcohol. I also assumed by the accent and words he was trying to speak that he was somewhere from Saddle Arabia, so I attempted to look for a member of the crew who might understand his request.

Before even getting the chance to head off, I heard a muffled smack and a collective gasp from the cabin. The source of the commotion appeared to be the arguing couple, with the wife holding a hoof to her cheek in shock, and her husband gritting his teeth in the type of anger reserved for those who have endured a twelve hour flight next to a screaming foal. Without warning, the wife smacked back.

It all went downhill from there.

The husband cocked back a hoof, no doubt intending to retaliate. Instead of punching his wife, he elbowed a passing unicorn, causing the innocent bystander to tumble into the passenger seated in the adjacent aisle seat 10F. The passenger seated there twisted herself around and bucked the unicorn back towards 10J. The formerly innocent bystander proceeded to light up his horn, sending 11F's glass flying in 10F's direction. Ducking, the glass missed her head, shattering upon impacting a griffon in 9E. Fuming, the griffon vaulted over his seat, spilling his drinks on adjacent passengers, and tackled the unicorn. Within seconds, a domestic issue had erupted into a classic bar fight between twenty-four business class passengers. Punches were thrown, champagne flutes and tumblers soared overhead, baggage was hurled, and feathers from participating pegasi and griffons soon fluttered throughout the cabin.

Completely dumbfounded, I backed out slowly, with the intention of calling security from the terminal. That's when I noticed the Saddle Arabian was missing. Until I peeked into the galley and saw him with aircraft equipment on the right side aisle, a sense of purpose to his actions that one would interpret as I was born for this moment. Before I could reach him, he let loose a mighty battlecry.

"HYYYYAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!"

I could not believe my eyes when I found him charging down the aisle, propelling one of our meal carts in front of him. At the last second, he leaped up on top of the cart, surfing it down the aisle, as it began plowing through the angry mob, sending them flying like bowling pins. The lucky few who weren't in the cart's path were hit square in the face with round serving trays he dual-wielded, resulting in a rapid succession of 'THWACK's before shooting through the curtain dividing business and economy. A series of shrieks and screams came from the other side, before a loud bang and the shattering of countless dishes told me the cart had finally hit a seat and stopped.

As security rushed on board to take down the last few that remained standing, I headed quickly to economy to find our other friend. Crossing the aisle and passing through the smaller front part of economy, I found the meal cart on its side, its contents of cheeseboards and desserts strewn across the aisle, and its driver wedged underneath one of the nearby aisle seats, motionless, save for an occasional flick of his tail.

Needless to say, the Captain was absolutely livid. With half of all the business class passengers taken away by security, we were ordered to offload all alcohol. And to top things off, who had to be traveling in first class? The CEO of EAL, of course.

It was a dark, dark day for aviation.

---

"I'll tell you something, Flitter," I finished, setting aside my second empty cup of tea. "I've never seen cabin carnage on that scale in my life. You remember that changeling invasion that happened in Canterlot? Replace the royal guards with fifty Saddle Arabian cart-surfing tray-wielders, and those bugs would have disappeared faster than a new joiner when faced with a medical case."

"Speaking of that invasion, where were you at the time?" Flitter's tone became more serious. "Everypony working for EAL is based in Canterlot, right?"

"Yep. I was in Sydneigh during the invasion. Since there was a giant bubble around Canterlot, flights could neither come nor go. The company messaged our hotel, asking them to keep our rooms indefinitely and charge any room service directly to the company. Kitchens were pretty much cleaned out in minutes. Dangle the prospect of free food in front of crew, and you have a recipe for disaster."

Glancing sideways at the hyperactive pony still serving customers at the counter, Flitter giggled. "It's a good thing Pinkie isn't crew then."

"The company would be financially worse off."

"You don't know Pinkie as well as we do here. Bankruptcy would be the word I'd use." she paused, stretching. "Alright, as much as I hate to, I need to get back to work. My break finishes in ten minutes."

"No problem. Guess I'm just going to wander around a bit then," I rose, leaving a stack of bits on the table. "Oh, and I'll let you know if I'm in Ponyville again at some point. I'm sure I owe it to you to hear one of your workplace rants at least once."

"Eh, if I had any. Still, if all goes well, you'll be letting me know when you're back in Canterlot instead."

"Ahh, that's right. Good luck with that, by the way. Now get out of here before I get you in trouble!"

Comments

[Nataniel]

Ayy lmao. Moscow f*cking when?

[King X2]

You would, hiiggs. YOU WOULD