I knew it was trouble when he boarded the plane in bedazzled jorts and a hot pink Taylor Swift tank top. I hoped the old-timer next to him who keeps talking about how he owns a Mercedes dealership and works directly for Nick Saban would keep him occupied, but apparently not. The first guy just pulled a rubber out of his man bun and told his row-mate to shut up so he could induct him into the mile-high club. Dude two seats ahead of me must've overheard because he immediately started vomiting uncontrollably.
