A/N: Hi again. This entire fic is based off a random (most amusing) idea I had, I know it'll be a multi-chapter; however length I'm unsure of yet. Guess we'll see what happens. All in all, I believe this'll be humor with a side of romance, but again we'll see what happens.

As par usual, hope you enjoy; and of course, reads/reviews/so forth are always appreciated & welcomed~

"Flight 417, now boarding for Las Vegas."

As I stare down the flight attendant, I have but two thoughts in mind.

At least the numbers don't add up to thirteen; and there's probably not enough coffee, or booze for that matter, to keep me sane throughout this flight.

I'm sure that leads one to wonder why exactly, then, am I standing scared shitless in a line to board a vessel that easily has a place on my top ten fears of all time list?

Simple. I'm a sucker for peer pressure.

I'm standing in this line for the exact same reasons I've smoked, drank, gotten arrested, learned to drive, and fuck knows what else; because I'm an idiot and my friends talk me into it. That is exactly why I'm in this line.

Seeing as the flight attendant is taking her sweet time checking tickets that've already been checked about fourteen times; I'll use this time to fill you in with what you undoubtedly know. I guess I don't mind, its better then thinking about all the possible things that could go wrong with this flight, and the countless ways I could die. Might die.

I'll start with the so called friends, who've yet again convinced me that my life will be meaningless if I miss out on this once in a lifetime opportunity. Actually, they're pretty good friends, I'm probably lucky to have them seeing as my usual spasms of paranoia aren't exactly, sane. But then again, they could just find it funny.

I digress, my friends. As far back as I can remember, we've always been 'those other guys' as far as South Park is concerned. Even now, at the ages of twenty-one or bust, we've somehow managed to stay friends.

First would be he who is, usually, responsible for our misfortune, Craig.

I'm not exactly sure when he flipped from I like the boring life, to come on guys what's the worst that could happen; but I'm relatively sure it had something to do with alcohol. That and the fact that he just doesn't care, but I'm not sure that's a surprise to anyone really. Another shocker, college and Craig never really got along. He went about as long as his parents were willing to pay, and then quit. Well quit the school part anyways, he rarely misses the keggers.

Then of course, there's Clyde. The only person I'm aware of that's more gullible then myself. Gullible, unquestioning, and always on board for whatever's going on. He's also still a skirt chaser, and actually.. still in college. But that's due to the fact that, at some point in High School he actually got good at Football, and is now coasting by on a scholarship. A fact, I'll note, that annoys the shit out of my last friend.

The one who, oddly enough, is the reason why I'm next in line to board a death trap.

Token. Sometimes, I look back and assume that he should have been our voice of reason. But he's not, so we pretty much go without. I figure that's because he's either smart enough to talk his way out of the trouble, or rich enough to pay for it. I will give credit where it's due though, that's usually in our favor.

Anyways, it's actually his brains that got us to where we're going, but I'll get to that in just a moment.

Lastly, there is me. Tweek. Ultimately, I feel I'm a total contradiction to how most people figured I'd turn out. So far, anyways.

Not surprising, I still work at a coffee shop. I'm also still heavily caffeinated, and if you hadn't guessed by my enduring feelings towards planes; I'm still paranoid. However, I'm not quite nut house material, and I'm not a total pathetic push over. You know, outside of peer pressure.

This, ultimately, brings me back to the plane.

Remember when I said this was all due to Token? Also, recall when I said he's both loaded, and a smooth talker? Right.

Well, apparently he used the second mentioned skill to talk his parents, who are really the loaded ones, into financing a spring break trip to Vegas for himself, and his friends.

Sounds great, sure. Except for two things.

One, there is two plane rides involved. Even better then one plane ride! And two, you know that saying 'What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas?' Yeah. Sure it does.

"Tweek, dude, the planes not going to kill you—hurry up!"

I groan while I'm pretty sure at least one of my eyes is twitching, and I make no effort to hide the cold glare I give Clyde as he acts like a child in front of me.

And sure enough.

Five minutes into being on the plane, and I already want off. And no, I'm not being melodramatic. Let me explain.

As you may know, most planes have two seats per row, which isn't that big of a deal, unless of course you're me. Which in case, most things are a big deal. In this instance, that means aisle seat or window seat. To me, this means quick escape, or view of death. Sadly, my friends know me well enough to box me in, because they assume I'd make a run for it if I could. Which I would, if I could. Retrospectively, I do not like planes.

To make matters worst, there's a kid in the seat in front of my own; and I don't particularly like kids, either.

The only thing that makes this ordeal slightly better, is the fact that I got seated with Craig. Reason being, they assumed I couldn't climb my way through him when the plane started taking off. Not that I wouldn't try, anyways, if the plane gave me reason to try, but that's not my point. My point is, he doesn't exactly handle children well either. So when the little shit turns around in his seat to gawk at us, he's promptly flipped off and challenged with, "What're you looking at?"

That teamed with his usual deadpan expression, caused the kid to reconsider his options and turn back around. I'm thankful for that, really. Seeing as the flying ordeal is already far more then I'm ready to handle. I'm pretty sure explaining to some brat that, no, I'm not on crack and, yes, we are all going to die on this plane, would send me over the edge. And I'm pretty sure there's not enough coffee on this trap to calm me down.

Speaking of me, and my lack of calm.

Moments after the kid is given the finger, it would seem the plane is ready for action.

I'm guessing, as I can hear doors shutting, and dinging noises. And then, engines. This is all followed shortly, by my desire to freak the hell out.

"Ffffff—" Again, my eye twitches, and within seconds of hearing the engines start up, my fingers are digging into the arm rests. I'm not exactly sure what word my mouth wanted to spit out, I might have guessed it was fuck, but my brain was too incoherently wrapped around the fact that I'm going to die, to actually finish any word and spit it out.

"Tweek, calm down dude.. the planes not even off the ground yet." To my left, I'd put money on Craig either glaring at me, and or flipping me off. I turn my head just enough to see him, seeing as I'm far to tense to basically move any other part of me.

"Not off the ground." I parrot back what he said, twitch again, then turn back to stare at the seat in front of me.

"That's cool. Craig?"

"Yeah?"

"Is it too soon to want to puke?" Yeah. Did I mention that I don't like planes?