Second annual fake Sixers recap from 40,000 feet in the air

We’re back with the second edition of the Fake Sixers Recap, coming to you from 40,000 feet in the air.

40K seems right, doesn’t it? Look, the last time I was on a plane after a few martinis, things spiraled fast. The boys were headed to Dallas, and from PHL onward it turned into a complete shit show.

You can catch up on the first annual post here.

Terminal A:

Terminal A was a madhouse. Eagles fans everywhere you looked, every bar packed, and I got in a couple martinis with my guy Cass before boarding, like any respectable TLL x Phans of Philly trip.

Big plane, window seat. I spotted a few Phans of Philly faithful on the way in. They didn’t remember us, but we remembered them. I’m also wearing my Oakley Meta glasses, which are supposed to tint. They do not tint and because of that, I look like Harry Potter.

I tried a few jokes about the flight path over the pond and passing over America’s newest state, Greenland. Nobody laughed at those either. Tough crowd at 40,000 feet.

Row Report:

My row is decent. The drink menu is already out, which is always a good sign. That said, being 6’3″ (sup, ladies) in a window seat is no easy task.

I’m pretty sure there’s a news lady sitting next to me. Maybe 6ABC? She seems nice and has her headphones on, dancing to god knows what. My only issue is that she thought the website was called “The Gritty Line,” which might be the most insulting thing anyone has ever said to me.

I’m going to chalk it up to my inability to enunciate, but come on. Do I look like a guy who’d name his website something like that? Big miss.

I’m also just going to come out and say it.

The lady in the aisle seat doesn’t deserve it. If this flight goes sideways, she’s going to be a problem. You always want your best people in the exit rows and on the aisles, and she is neither. In her defense, she did ask about the gin on the menu, so there’s a very good chance she becomes my best friend over the next six hours.

Cass is right behind me, which means I’m in charge of beverages, and we will be drinking a whole lot of Tito’s. I haven’t clocked the flight attendants yet, but if it turns out the little old lady is the one telling me how to buckle my seatbelt, we’re all in trouble.

I’ll be turning on the charm. Happy faces only.

Back to Basketball, Sort Of:

None of this has anything to do with the Sixers, I’m aware.

LeBron faking arthritis is a heady veteran play. Rookie-weight Embiid didn’t play. Not interested in any of it until it counts. I’ll lock in on opening night.

As for the Eagles, social media will really mess with your head, but at the end of the day it’s only Week 5. Talk to me in Weeks 12 through 14 when it actually matters.

The Plan:

Here’s the idea. I order four Tito’s and say two of them are for Cass. Cass then tells the flight attendant he’s never seen me before in his life and didn’t order anything, only to immediately turn around and order four for himself and his “friend.” That’s when the show really kicks off.

More to come from London.

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