Sunday, January 16, 2011

Social Drinking Excellence: Franck Lebrun

Sometimes the stories, well...sometimes they just write themselves.

During the flight, the crew suspected that someone had been smoking cigarettes in one of the lavatories. Other passengers said it was Lebrun, so the crew confronted him once, and then a second time when he again headed for the bathroom. Lebrun looked intoxicated and smelled of cigarettes and alcohol, according to the complaint.

He then approached a flight attendant "in an aggressive manner" and pushed her away, according to the complaint. When she told him not to touch her, Lebrun pushed her away again, court papers say.

After more tense moments, a federal air marshal identified himself to Lebrun and told him to return to his seat.

As Lebrun walked toward the back of the plane "he continued to shout and waive [sic] his arms in an excited manner," according to the complaint.

Two other air marshals identified themselves to Lebrun and asked him to show his passport.

Lebrun continued to scream and yell expletives and then "aggressively positioned himself toward one of the federal air marshals in a fighting stance," court papers say. The marshals then handcuffed him and seated him in the back of the plane.

"Lebrun continued to verbally abuse individuals around him, yelling in substance 'I'm French, f*** you!'" according to the complaint.
Where do I begin? Rude, drunk, arrogant, chain-smoking—Lebrun is so stereotypically French that I can practically smell the B.O. I wish they'd included his mugshot in the article, because without one I can't help but picture him as Jean Reno.

Air travel can test your patience, even when you're just taking a quick Atlanta-to-Savannah connecting flight. A trans-Atlantic flight? The airline should give you free booze and a happy ending just to endure 7+ hours in the sky. All of which excuses Lebrun for his attempt to be the first person since the shoe bomber to smoke on an airplane. But once he's been caught and warned, that's where drunken stupidity takes over. You're locked in an aluminum tube in the sky with the same 500 people—the flight attendants aren't exactly going to forget your face. Then, after three different air marshals have identified themselves and joined the fray, Lebrun actually squares up with them? I know a US Air Marshal; trust me, these are not the guys you want to fight. And a 1-on-3 rumble with them is just suicidal for anyone short of a Special Ops commando. [You have to love the stereotypical Frenchness continuing: Lebrun takes his "fighting stance" and is immediately subdued without an actual fight. I'd almost swear this was written by the folks at Funny or Die.]

So how did Reno Lebrun get so mind-erasingly hammered to suddenly think he was the French Jason Bourne?
After Lebrun was detained, the crew found a one-liter bottle of Bailey's Irish Cream liquor in his carry-on bag that was almost empty, according to the complaint.
He was drunk off of Bailey's Irish Cream? Are you serious? Lebrun's just gone from Léon to Pepe Le Pew. I rarely advise sobriety, but... If you can't handle Bailey's, then you might want to stick to Evian.

Franck, your Rummy's in the mail. It comes with a secret compartment filled with Zima, if you want to try something a little more manly next time.

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