Paddy O’Reilly was sitting on a transatlantic flight, settling in like a man who had absolutely no idea what was about to happen—but was ready for it anyway.
As soon as the seatbelt sign went off, Paddy waved eagerly at the flight attendant.
“I’ll have a whiskey,” he said, confident and proud, like a man ordering a pint at his local.
The attendant smiled and turned to the man seated beside Paddy.
“And would you like a drink as well, sir?”
The man sniffed dramatically and said, loud enough for half the cabin to hear,
“I’d rather be mauled by wild animals than let alcohol touch my lips.”
Paddy froze.
He slowly handed his whiskey back to the flight attendant and said, completely serious:
“Ah sure, so would I then. I didn’t know we were allowed to choose.”
Earlier that morning, Paddy’s journey had already been off to a strong start.
At Dublin Airport, a flight attendant asked politely,
“Sir, may I see your boarding pass?”
Paddy patted his pockets. Once. Twice. Panic.
Out came a sandwich.
A pair of sunglasses.
And—somehow—a rubber chicken.
“No boarding pass,” he muttered. “This is going poorly.”
Then his face lit up.
“Ah! Here it is!”
He proudly handed her… a lunch receipt for a chicken wrap.
The attendant blinked. Slowly.
“Sir… this is your lunch.”
Paddy nodded. “Right. That explains the chicken.”
She gently handed him his actual boarding pass, and as he walked away, he turned back.
“Quick question—do the peanuts come before or after the plane goes up?”
“After,” she replied.
“Good,” Paddy said. “I don’t like surprises.”
On the plane, Paddy studied his seat number like it was advanced mathematics.
“Is this 14B, 14C, or one of them trick seats that moves when you sit down?”
With saintly patience, the attendant guided him to his seat.
Then came the seatbelt.
Paddy wrestled with it for ten minutes before whispering to the woman beside him,
“I think it’s broken.”
She sighed. “Just click it.”
He clicked it.
Paddy’s eyes widened.
“Well would you look at that.”
When the captain announced they were cruising at 35,000 feet, Paddy leaned over and whispered,
“So… are we closer to the moon now?”
“No,” the woman said. “Still Earth.”
“Ah,” Paddy nodded. “Next time then.”
When the peanuts finally arrived, Paddy grabbed them like they might disappear.
The flight attendant returned.
“Would you like a drink with those, sir?”
Paddy wiped crumbs from his mouth and grinned.
“No thanks,” he said.
“I’m already drunk on peanuts.”
And with that, Paddy leaned back, satisfied—proof that you don’t need in-flight entertainment when confusion does the job just fine.
