“Are we doing ok here?”

Have you seen the Corona flight commercial where the flight attendant asks the Ambien faced-twenty something-dressed for happy hour  passenger “Are we doing ok here? “

And, with corona in hand, through a buzz hazed stare answers “Absolutely.”

How about a little truth in advertising Corona?

“Are we doing ok here?”

“Mindy, I’m in coach. If my knees were any closer to my face I would auto fellate.  You can bring me as many of these $7 cervezas as you want but it won’t change the fact that I won’t feel my shins till I arrive in Akron for the rubber tire convention. Sure, I’m drunk but my nose still works and this “salesman” next to me reeks of cheap, burrito-infused vodka with just a hint of Atlanta Georgia prostitute. And unless I want to fork over $20 to you and your emergency floor lighting cronies I’ll have to subsist on this massive bag of peanuts for the next 3 hours, assuming we get off this tarmac in the next 2 hours. By the way, I have to urinate but because you and Blaine are busy bartending I have to hold it until the turbulence kicks in and works on my bladder like a paint shaker. Then I can bounce off the chairs till I arrive at my final destination at the front of the plane in front of the 1^st classers asleep on their recliners; at which point I’ll take a huge beer-peanut infested dump and leave the door open so it can waft up their 1^st class noses. So don’t ask me if we are doing ok here because unless “we” join the mile high club I just want to pass out IF you don’t mind. Buh-bye.”