One would think that anyone who flies business class would be a refined, high flying career person, a dignified money-bag, a classy celebrity, or such like.
You'd hardly expect a business class passenger to get so visibly (and audibly) drunk in-flight, that fellow passengers and crew have to caution him repeatedly and even threaten to hand him over to the Police on landing.
Well, I had a Mr Drunkard on board recently. He was sober when he boarded, but as soon as the first snacks service began, he started demanding alcoholic drinks. Of course he was initially obliged, but when the cabin crew member serving him figured he had had enough, she declined to get him any more.
He then deviced a cunning plan of asking several other crew, who unaware that he had reached the limit, obliged him at least one drink each.
It was a night flight. I was manning the business class bar, where two fine, gentlemen were chatting and having a drink each, when Mr Drunkard staggered to the bar reeking of alcohol but still demanding a drink.
Sensing his state, I offered him a glass of water or juice, with a slice of lemon, and ice. He wanted a bloody Mary. I said No. He insisted. I politely refused.
He made to grab me by the neck, but the two lovely guys at the bar seized him and held him back, pinning him down on the nearest available seat, as he had by this time become irrate and screaming obscenities, waking most sleeping passengers up.
That was my first and only (near) physical assault, and I was quite taken aback. One of the nice gentlemen came back to see if I was alright. I was. Sort of.
He gave me his business card. A manager with an Oil and Gas Corporation. hmmmm.
He wanted my number. I couldn't refuse him.
By this time, Mark was at my side. He had been in the Economy Cabin. A colleague had informed him that his girlfriend was nearly attaked by a drunken passenger, and he had rushed up here.
90 minutes to landing. See you all next week.