TIFU drinking wine before a flight

I stand in the TSA line reeking of cheap boxed wine as I type this. I got a ride from my father to catch an early flight for a business trip. I still live with my parents, and our regional airport is a relatively brief 20 minute drive away, so I didn't feel horrible asking this favor. I appreciate his help greatly; even greater now, after the event detailed in this post.

During our short drive to the airport, I feel waves of nausea rolling over me. That wine I drank isn't agreeing with me, was my first thought. Despite this, my first instinct was denial. Surely it's just my nerves; I have a flight to catch, a training to attend, many new people to meet, its just my new job, it's just my nerves. This is what's running through my mind as I gradually participate less and less in the idle chit chat that my father was engaged in, until that point, with me.

Any notion of denial was quickly dispelled by the taste of cheap wine in the back of my mouth. Before I could speak, the impression of regurgitated wine became the full experience. It filled my mouth as I pinched my lips shut to avoid tainting my father's car, my clothes, anything and everything in about a 3 foot radius of me. I managed to choke down this first wave of sickness in time to respond to my father's inquiry.

Noticing my silence, my hand over my mouth, my pained expression, my father asks, are you okay? You look like you're going to be sick. Yeah I think I'm about to puke, I responded. Shit, shit, goddammit, he says while he looks for a safe place to pull over on the four lane highway to the airport.

This is the point where I really start to regret my decisions that lead to this moment. I had a box of cheap red wine from Sam's club, purchased the day after New Year's. I can go through one in about three weeks, drinking a glass or two a day. They're less than 20 dollars so it's a very economic way to fuel my fledgeling alcoholic tendencies (after this, a tendency I intend to curtail). Much better than a 30 pack of beer, which costs the same or more but only lasts a weekend or a week at best. This pleases my value conscious middle class brain. These wine boxes can keep for about 6 weeks in good conditions. The mode of dispension is key to this longevity as it does not allow any air into the bag of wine inside the box, reducing or even preventing the oxidation that eventually spoils all wind. This pleases my value conscious middle class brain. Unfortunately, some miscreant was handling my precious box of wine improperly, which lead to the introduction of air in my perfect wine storage system. This displeased my value conscious middle class brain, as now my precious box of wine will sour just that much sooner. On top of that, I wasn't able to finish my box of wine within my usual time frame due to another business trip. Now, coming on week 4 of this one wine box, I know the tragic end is near. I cannot allow this wine to go bad. Surely, this wine will not last until I return from my trip. Thus was my thought process behind drinking a three glasses of wine the night before my flight. It didn't help that when I woke up, there was still more of that precious, deep purple liquid. What the hell, I thought, it's not like I'll be driving, as I resolved to chug what was left before leaving for the airport. I fill up my wine glass, stained from my debauchery a few hours earlier. I drink, and I fill it up again. I drink, and squeeze the last of the wine out of the bag into my wine glass. I take one last sip and decide I have had enough wine, these last few ounces will have to be washed away into my bathroom sink, like sins in the baptismal pool.

Regurgitated wine fills my mouth again just as we come to a stop. I swing open the passenger side door and spew Black Box Cabaret Sauvignon over tire tracks left in fresh snow. That smells like pure alcohol, my dad remarks without judgement in his voice. I think I drank too much wine last night, I responded, carefully including the detail that this was definitely NOT wine chugged 30 minutes ago. Looks like it, he says. I close my door and try to recover. He pulls his SUV out of the snow/ice/slush clotted side road he had pulled over at. He continues up the highway as I feel another wave of nausea wash over me. You're not getting sick again are you? He asks, probably noticing my silence. We'd better pull over again, I manage to respond before my mouth fills again with the bitter liquid, propelled from my gut like a water hose. Shit, shit, goddammit, he said again, this time adding, we would have been better off staying back there.

Again the car stops and again I swing the door open, releasing another torrent of blood red liquid from my mouth. This time we sit and wait for any more sickness, but none came. I urged my father to continue driving, as I have a flight to catch still. I'm covered in regurgitated wine, the passenger side of my dad's car looks like someone turned on a wine sprinkler. I reek so badly that it almost made me have to puke again. I'm deeply upset at this point. I'll have to go this whole day wearing my wine stained, puke covered clothes. I got wine vomit all over my dad's car. Fortunately I still have until tomorrow before I have to attend my training and I won't have to be wearing my dirty travel clothes, but I feel bad for anyone who will have to sit next to me during my travel.

I kept expecting to be reprimanded by my father once the conspicuous silence is broken, or maybe once he sees how I soiled his car. I inconspicuously try to wipe some wine off with my wine stained sweatshirt. Instead of an ass chewing like I was expecting, he breaks the silence to tell me a story of when he was younger and on a business trip in Philadelphia. He had drank too much that night before, and on the way from his hotel to the job site with his coworkers, he had to get them to pull over so he could vomit. This makes me feel better, at least I am not unique in making these types of bad decisions. Being covered in regurgitated wine isn't the end of the world, although I almost wish it was. After reflecting on it, though, the events of the morning triggered a wave of thankfulness for all that I have- a great job that I enjoy and a family that loves and supports me, what more could anyone ask for.

As I finish typing this in the airport terminal, I get a notification that my flight has been cancelled, and a short while later, rescheduled for departure in 12 hours. My early morning flight was suddenly a red eye. As annoying as it is, I now have time to change clothes and try to deal with the wine stains on my clothes and in my father's car before my new departure. Bittersweet but ultimately works out in my favor. This whole ordeal has really illustrated to me that my current alcohol consumption might become even more problematic if left unchecked.

Tl;dr: tried to finish a box of wine before a flight, but the wine won, and I ended up wearing it. Thankfully I escaped longer term consequences because my flight was delayed, giving me an opportunity to launder my now soiled clothes and to mend my damaged ego.