You may not know this about me, but I am remarkably humble. As far as humble goes, I’m the best. So it should be no surprise that when I get a compliment poolside in Las Vegas about my stunning physique, the wife’s constant comments about my rugged handsomeness or even random comments from strangers in airports about my sparkling blue eyes, I always take it for what it is:
The alcohol talking.
Sure the young lady who commented on my “Dad bod” in Vegas probably meant it in a mocking fashion, based simply on tone and the giggles of her friends, but I was carrying 3 full Fat Tuesday frozen drinks just over a mile. So yeah, I looked swole.
And, now that I think about it, the wife is under contractual obligation to support me, so there’s that.
But the middle aged crisis 3 martini crowd must be honest, right?
In the middle of an assessment recently I was having a wonderful conversation with yet another passenger who seems to think that just because they aren’t driving somewhere they can hit the bar no worries. They hit the bar indeed, then the door of the plane and the floor…the entire time slurring “I’m…Ok…you guyzzzzzz…”
As we’re discussing that there is no need to contact their lawyer prior to obtaining a blood pressure the patient suddenly stops talking, gazing at me, slightly tilting their head…
“You have sparkling blue eyes…did you know that?”
“Sir, thank you, but we really need you to help us out…”
That compliment is totally legit.