A guy missed his flight from Toronto to London and had to spend the night at the airport infirmary because of my misguided attempt to help him out. This was a long time ago, in the late nineteen eighties.

I was lined up to get a coffee. It was a very long line. A little guy was just ahead of me in line. When it was finally his turn to order he asked for a hot dog. The attendant told him they were out of hot dogs. The little guy, in a strong Scottish burr, reacted very negatively at this, a war of words erupted and within moments he had grabbed a heavy glass sugar dispenser and reared back as though to attack the poor server. I immediately stopped him by grabbing his shoulder and telling him to cool out. He turned to me with a manic look in his eye and said "Don't you frigging start." The situation thus diffused, he stormed off.

I got my coffee and just a few minutes later ran into him again. He stopped me and said words to the effect of "no hard feelings, man, let me buy you a drink." I ordered a beer, he ordered a whisky and a beer and he told me his story. He had been in Japan working as a lighting director on a rock tour (Rod Stewart, I think) when, just before he was due to fly home to Glasgow for a long overdue vacation, was called to an emergency gig in Edmonton (Madonna, I believe) to replace someone taken ill. That completed, he was now flying home via Toronto and London, was clearly inebriated, and told me that he had not slept for forty eight hours. I said something lame like, well, you can sleep on the plane soon. He said, no, he could never sleep on airplanes and would just continue to drink towards oblivion. Being a nice fellow I opened a little container in my pocket and offered him a Halcyon, a truly notorious type of sleeping pill that I think was later banned. I planned to take just half of one pill once safely on the plan and knew would be enough to grant me a deep sleep for six or so hours.

Two pills slipped out. He quickly picked them up and immediately swallowed both of them. I told him that probably wasn't a very good idea, as the Halcyon is very strong stuff and we wouldn't be bording for another hour. He replied "I've take a lot worse than this, sonny."

I went off to make a phone call, returning to the bar to check on Scotty about fifteen minutes later. He was slumped at the bar singing loudly and incoherently. I heard another customer tell the barkeep "Oh good, there's his friend" and knew that this would not go well. I helped Scotty to his feet. He lurched and we both crashed into a huge glass wall that wowed greatly but fortunately did not shatter. I half carried him towards the boarding gate while he continued to sing, curse and exclaim at great volume. I plopped him into a seat as close as possible to the agent's desk. Everyone was staring at us. He became very quiet and a few minutes later stood straight up and then fell forward, crashing face first into the carpet. The police, an airline person and two medical attendants (with stretcher on wheels) were soon summoned. After being quick to explain that I truly did not know this person, I offered that he was without sleep and had been drinking a lot. As a medical attendant shone a little flashlight into his non-responsive eyes the policewoman turned to me and said "I wouldn't be surprised if there is more than alcohol involved." I quickly agreed but too much the coward to admit that my sleeping pills–that had come into my possession in a rather informal manner–were a causal agent in this farce, watched as they bundled him onto the gurney and wheeled him away but not before the airline rep examined his ticket and noting that it was full fare, informed that Scotty could easily take a flight the next day, once he'd had a chance to sleep it off.

I would think that Scotty, upon awakening the next day to find himself still in Toronto, might curse me vigorously though in all likelihood he probably remembered nothing of me or my accursed pills.