So I guess the Mexicans share more than just language with the spanish. The culture of ridiculously late eating has also warped it's way into their normalities, or maybe it's just a special airplane treat. Either way, it's just gone 12am and dinner has just been served. As always, relying on airport meals can be risky business, you never know what processed delicacies you might be subjected to, but the hefty supply of free drinks is something to take advantage of. I decide to go for a Bloody Mary and end up with 5 parts vodka, one part concentrated tomato juice in typical Mexican fashion, but nevertheless it's enough of a kick to send me to sleep. I manage to sneak a cheeky glass of red wine as well and predictably forget about the after dinner coffee round which I find painstakingly hard to refuse although I already know the coffee will taste like bean flavoured water with a seasoning of powdered milk. The dilemma I now face is in what order to drink my peculiar selection of beverages and whether or not to chance the interesting looking desert. I settle on taking a sip from each every now and then; waste not want not. I can't complain too much however because the flight really is very accommodating and the overhead announcements have already promised breakfast and snack intervals. Besides, I am momentarily forgetting the fact that as of my departure from the aircraft I'll be succumbing to backpacker mode and shall have to leave my snobbish middle class luxuries behind.