Well, the London trip started off well. Two hours into the eight and a half hour flight, I asked for a glass of red wine to help me sleep. In Business Class, wine is complementary, but back in second class, it’s five bucks a bottle.

The wine comes, a nice little bottle of La Palma from Chile. Excellent vintage and all that. I pour a glass, take a sip and set the glass down on the tray. Not bad. A few minutes later I watch in horror as my arm takes on a life of it’s own, like a scene from Flight with the Undead Appendage.

I know my arm well, and what is about to happen. I have seen this scene played out countless times. It successfully frees the captive wine from the glass, sending four dollars worth of Chile’s finest wine all over the tray, and eventually my pants. Now I look like someone stabbed me in the leg. Great.

Mission accomplished, the undead spirit released control of my arm.

The guy sitting next to me, the one that didn’t even say hello when I sat down, watched the whole thing. As the wine soaked into my formerly dry pants, he shrugged and said, “Eh, don’t worry about it man, shit happens.”

The rest of the flight, I waited for the undead arm to strangle him, but sadly it never did.

Author: frenchy