I arrive at Gimpo with a light buzz and heavy self-doubt. I’m not drunk, I’m just socially lubricated… with no one to talk to.
They finally made a priority lane
There arent too many people . I start to regret I came early
Save your money and bring an empty bottle!
I navigate to security with the grace of a raccoon in daylight. I put my bag on the scanner and forget to take out my belt, dignity, and existential dread.
The reason why I brought an empty bottle. The bottle is not empty unlike me
I sit at the gate quietly, pretending I’m fine. The alcohol says I’m relaxed. My knees say otherwise.
I scroll on my phone. I text someone I shouldn’t. They don’t reply. Deserved.
I am sitting here all one like a pile of garbages
Our airplane just landed . We will have the latest 737 max
We are supposed to get in 10 minutes ago and the Airplane still doesnt show up. Seems like its parked somewhere
No 737 max for today sadly
I scan my pass. It works. I thank the machine. I’m polite when tipsy.
I walk onto the plane with fake confidence and the posture of a shrimp. The crew says hello. I smile like a guilty man.
This restricted looks very familiar to me
Well well well, its the same aircraft I took on my way to Seoul
View from my window
I sit. My knees instantly protest. I ignore them, like all the red flags I’ve seen this year.
The seatbelt clicks. I feel restrained in all the ways I’ve refused therapy for.
Captain’s voice crackles in: “Should be a smooth flight.” Famous last words.
We start rolling. I make peace with my sins.
The cabin is def not ready for what is going to happen :(
Already bumping five seconds after liftoff. Is this a flight or a washing machine cycle?
We take off like we’re fleeing something. Like Busan owes us money.
and we are very late btw
The plane bucks off the ground like it’s pissed off. My stomach falls to my shoes but the turbulence’s first punch lands almost immediately. The whole cabin shakes like a washing machine stuck on spin cycle. The guy next to me looks like he regrets everything, I look like I’m already halfway to a panic attack.
Forget cruise. We’re riding a demonic bull in a hurricane. Every bump jerks my body like I’m a rag doll. Drinks fly, prayers fly, sanity flies out the window. Flight attendants give up halfway through service and disappear like ghosts. I grip the armrest like it owes me money. The lady beside me is mumbling prayers, I’m mumbling curses. The captain’s “little turbulence” sounds like a cruel joke from hell. I’m convinced the plane hates me personally.
The entire cabin is screaming.
I’m thinking about every dumb thing I’ve ever done while the plane shakes my soul apart. Text my ex? Nah, delete. Cry? Maybe later. I’m a cocktail of regret, vodka breath, and existential dread.
We dive into Busan like I dive into my own bad choices fast and furious. The plane bounces like a bad Tinder date who just can’t take a hint. I slam my head on the window and wonder if this is how it ends. The baby’s scream reaches a crescendo. I swear I hear angels laughing at my misery.
The plane drops into Busan like a rollercoaster on a death spiral. My stomach churns violently, and I think I see my life flashing like a bad slideshow. The pilot fights invisible demons trying to rip us apart. The overhead bins rattle ominously. The baby’s screams crescendo. Every bump feels like a punch to the gut. My head bangs against the window. I’m not sure if it’s the turbulence or the vodka.
The wheels hit the runway with a bone-rattling thud. The plane bounces like a ball in a pinball machine. I clap not out of joy, but relief because we are alive. Someone nearby weeps quietly. I want to join them.
I clap. Not because it’s tradition. Because we survived.
Plane slows down. I hear someone sobbing. Maybe it’s me.
I stagger off like a zombie escaping a horror movie. Hair a mess, dignity shattered, soul in pieces. I swear I’ll never drink before flying again. But who am I kidding? Next weekend’s already booked.
