to the Southwest Airlines flight attendant who is thinking about cutting me off after only two drinks

I have deep respect for your position. Truly, I do. There are many things that you know that I do not. However, there are a few things I do know which may have escaped your attention. I am not personally flying the plane, nor am I operating any vehicle once we land.

I am 230 pounds.

I am pushing six-foot-three.

I am from Tennessee.

And I am gay.

Those four things combined mean that I could suck moonshine from a tube for the duration of this flight and still be sober enough to land the plane safely while wearing an eye patch and sitting on a butt plug.

And just last night I had my heart torn out and then stomped on with what felt like golf shoes.

I am not drunk. I am not going to get drunk. I am not going to cause a scene. I am not going to upset the apple cart. I am not going to be "that guy" and take a dump on the beverage cart. You don't even have a beverage cart.

I would just like to sit here and drink and pretend that I am not going to die alone. Or delude myself into thinking that I am not likely to die alone even sooner because I am trapped in a small metal tube breathing recycled air with the great unwashed during the early stages of a global pandemic.

I don't want any trouble. I don't even want to talk about my troubles. I just want another drink. I am a quiet and courteous person. I have fist-fulls of drink tickets. I would just like vodka-sodas while I fly.

Lots of them.

Now.

Thank you.