Airport Security: Coke you drink? Don't even think about it. Coke you snort? No problem.

Not too long ago my friend told me about how she forgot the TSA rule prohibiting liquids from going through airport security and she had her soda confiscated at the x-ray machine. She told me the TSA agent was good-humored announcing,"We've got a Coke smuggler!" and everyone laughed.   Last week I had an experience with a guy who may have been allowed through security with his Coke and shouldn't have.

I flew via Delta from Phoenix to The DC.  My joy could barely be contained as I arrived at row 22 and realized I had been switched from an Aisle to a Middle seat on a completely full aircraft. I took my seat next to the woman at the window. Our aisle-based seatmate had yet to arrive.  No doubt the two of us already seated hoped the third would be a no show. No such luck.

Seconds before departure our seatmate arrives. I take one look at him and hear my mother's voice inside my head, "Look at how glassy his eyes are. He must be high on something." The voice sounded just like how she would say it when we watched the Grammy Awards together during my childhood.  Or when she took me to to my first Grateful Dead concert. Which actually did teach me a lot about drugs and pretty much convinced me I didn't want to be that girl in the Tie Dye demanding to know when the giant pink elephant would be coming back with her popcorn.  But in this case, it wasn't just the glassy eyes that blew this guy's cover. There were more than a few indicators. 

The first indication our seatmate might be high;  Simultaneously drops himself into the our row and reclines his seat-back and announces, "I'm hungry!" I gently let him know the plane hasn't taken off and the flight attendant will ask him to put it up if he doesn't do it now. 

The next indication our seatmate might be high; He asks me, "Where are you from?" I answer him and recipricate with the same question. He tells me "Westchester, New York." To which I then ask, "Anywhere near Rye?" and he looks puzzled and answers, "Why would you ask me that?" to which I respond," Because Rye is in Westchester." He looks at me blankly. Alrighty then.

Another indication our seatmate might be high;  As the inflight safety movie begins, he watches it intently and giggles. 

Still not sure there are enough indicators our seatmate might be high? Here are some more:

Pilot announces we are third in line for take-off. Flight attendant is swiftly walking from the front of the plane to get to her jump seat in the rear of the aircraft. Our seatmate flags her down, "Hey, can I get some food?"

As plane begins to roll forward on the tarmac, our seatmate puts down his tray table. Again, I gently remind him we haven't yet become airborne which compels him to quickly ask me, "Are you a frequent flier?"

Once we are in the air, the fasten seatbelt sign is extinguished, indicating we are now free to move about the cabin.  Our seatmate turns to me with a question, "Do they have bathrooms on this airplane?" and then adds, "I've only flown on International flights before."  (Anyone else experience a nasty rumor being spread on International flights that Domestic flights don't have any bathrooms? I usually fly Domestic, so maybe this is going on and I have no knowledge of it.)

Our seatmate heads back to the bathroom and returns with, no joke, white powder clearly visible in one nostril as he turns to me and inquires, "Did I miss the food?"   I let him know the cart is still at the front of the airplane. He responds with, "I pay thousands of dollars to fly and paying for food is bullshit!"  This astute observation then leads me to consider for a moment maybe he isn't high after all. But then the tide rapidly turns.

The food cart arrives. Our seatmate asks to see the size of the sandwich he is considering. The flight attendant shows him the wrapped food. He decides to buy it, unwraps it and shares his discovery with the entire plane, "No cheese. Shit!"

Next comes the drink cart.  I hear the flight attendant offer our seatmate a cup of water and deny him the 64 Oz. bottle of water he initially requested.  He follows up with asking the Flight Attendant, "Is there any alcohol on this plane?" The flight attendant tells him yes and then our seatmate wants to know, "What kind?" The flight attendant tells him, "The usual kind." Our seatmate orders a beer. The flight attendant wants to see his ID. Our seatmate tells her it's in the overhead compartment. The flight attendant offers to wait for him if he needs to go get it. He declines and the flight attendant moves on to the next row. Our seatmate mumbles, "I was born in 1986. Don't you believe me? Bitch."

Our seatmate finally falls asleep. Sure, we're all feeling like we won the lottery at this point. However he's sleeping on my shoulder. At this point I don't care, I'm just glad he's quiet so I can read in peace.  The flight attendant loops back to me and asks if Sleeping Beauty and I are together. NO! NO! NO! I want to scream, but instead I offer, "No. We're not."  The flight attendant suggests, "You should take a picture and post it on MySpace." Then she wakes our seatmate up telling him to get off me.

Our seatmate wakes up apologizes for sleeping on me. He walks to the back of the aircraft and returns with a half empty 64 Oz bottle of water. Which he NEVER drinks. He spends the next 15 minutes sniffling and making weird throat noises tempting me to ask him to sleep on me so the quiet will happen again for all of us.

Upon final approach to Dulles our seatmate turns on his cell phone. Almost immediately it rings and he answers it. Everyone in our section informs him he must turn his phone off. Our seatmate looks at me as if to say, "You are the frequent flier, is what these people say true? Must I say goodbye to my friend?"  I nod.  It is true. Turn off the phone until we land. Which he does without question.

As the airplane touches down on the runway and begins to taxi our seatmate turns to me, "What do you do for a living?" he asks.  I tell him I am a social worker. He follows up with, "That's cool." Then there is a long pause as he considers what I have told him. Then he asks me to confirm,"You make good money doing that?"

Finally! There it is! Right there!  Total and undeniable proof beyond any reasonable doubt our seatmate is indeed high.

Original DC Metro Moms post.

When Devra isn't revisiting her substance abuse training, she can be found at Parentopia.