by Trey Humphreys
Newsflash: I drank alcohol one time. Pick yourself up off the floor and read on.
I am a man of many costumes. I have spent more money on costumes than college, hair products and therapy combined. Goodbye self-esteem.
I suppose it all began in college where I was the school mascot. Wikipedia ‘Loser’ and there is a good chance you will find a picture of me in a fake tiger costume. I really suppose it is when I met a few other losers that were also mascots like Billy “The Fox” Stephens, Joel “Beep Beep” Darby and Brad “has no nickname that I know of” Post. Talk about a gaggle of lame pasty white guys.
Now, there is one costume that comes to mind when I try and process all the dumb shit I have worn over the past two decades. Let me preface this by saying that the best time to wear a costume is when you should not wear a costume. Obviously.
You see, my equally dumb friend Joel and I had to fly to Denver, CO to participate in our other equally dumb friend Brad’s halftime performance at the local pro football game. As mascots. I mean, really? Mascots? When life gives you lemons, buy a cat.
So we dressed as Pilots. Of course.
Now, let me state that this was pre 9/11 so please don’t call your Congressman and demand the Homeland Security Advisory System be raised to Fuchsia. We have enough problems. Ex Mascots.
We arrived at the airport parking lot and tried to determine what type of airport jail we would spend the next trillion years in for impersonating Pilots. Is dressing in a homemade Pilot costume with a terrible hat and irremovable sunglasses a crime? One call, that’s all. We took a couple of pulls of discount warm tequila and marched into the airport praying the mustache glue held.
The next challenge – luggage drop off. We handed our luggage to a bewildered United Airlines check-in clerk and made our way to the security lines. The TSA officials were baffled as to why two Pilots were waiting in the normal security line. The two pilots were baffled as to why the TSA officials were trying to escort us to the secret Pilot security line.
“Where are your credentials?” TSA asked
“Oh” fake Pilots replied
That went well. On to the plane…
Once on the plane and after several pictures with a man claiming to be the real pilot, a flight attendant and other clueless passengers, we settled into our coach seats.
After lift off and once at a safe flying altitude, we popped open our thrift store briefcases and pulled out beer and whisky. I assume that is what all Pilots carry in their briefcases.
Please, for a moment, imagine the other passengers watching this unfold. Pure gold.
One hour and twenty-four minutes into the flight, the unamused flight attendant cut us off after our demand for more cocktails. It seems we hit the airplane serving limit. I tried to explain I was the Captain of the flight and we needed more whisky. It didn’t work.
We finally arrived in Denver, half cocked and fully invested in a mash of various alcohols. We were able to walk off the plane on our own accord. Professionals.
No, not the end.
We made our way through the airport until we found, well, a bar. Not any bar but the busiest bar in said airport. Time to order a couple drinks. Just to take the edge off really.
If you are keeping count, we had cocktails before the plane, on the plane and now after the plane. We were feeling fantastic and pretty damn certain we could actually fly a plane. When is the last time you saw two pilots getting wasted in an airport bar?
Right before we got up to leave, Joel leaned over to a couple of older fellas and asked them where they were flying. They said Chicago.
Then we said, “We are flying that flight. See you on the plane.”
Poor bastards damn near had heart attacks.
In other news, we wore the same outfits to our buddy Trey’s wedding a couple years later. And were late. And walked in the back entrance where the bride was waiting, on us, to walk down the aisle. God bless the look on that woman’s face (as well as the entire wedding party who was already standing at the altar) as we un-quietly made our way to our seats.
The moral of the story? Can’t remember. -Captain Trey Humphreys