The drink cart hurtles along the aisle, pushed by a fully-bearded man who looks more like a trucker than a flight attendant.
He stops the cart beside an Asian guy wearing black-rimmed glasses, reading a book.
“What would you like to drink sir?” asks the flight attendant. His bearded smile looks like a forest surrounding a clear lake.
“Water please,” says the Asian guy, not looking up.
“Really?! No beer? No wine?” The flight attendant looks indignant.
“Just water please.”
“But it’s a Saturday! Don’t you feel like partying?” The flight attendant desperately waves the wine bottles. His smile is even bigger this time.
The Asian guy looks around the almost empty cabin. “Uhm…where’s the party?”
The flight attendant struggles to maintain his smile. He hands over the glass, wishing he’d poured the water over this party pooper’s head instead.
He releases the breaks and pushes the cart further along the aisle.
“And what would you like to drink?”
The flight attendant’s voice echoes throughout the cabin as he approaches other passengers.
“Juice?! Just juice?”
There’s no party on this plane.