Discount airlines are a great way to travel once you understand that, like prison, their tiny seats can trap your body but not your mind. My favorite is Frontier Airlines. Their fares are dirt cheap and their flight attendants are often older black women who call me “sweetie.”

In the past three months I’ve taken close to 20 flights on Frontier. And each flight has been just the way I like ’em: quiet and unremarkable. Well, besides my last flight from Columbus to Vegas, where I was surrounded by two drunk bros, a belligerent middle-aged woman who was wasted off her ass, and a horny flight attendant.

The drunk bros were seated right behind me. One was intoxicated before he got on the plane. He talked loud, as if was trying to talk over loud music in a club, except there was no club or music. And almost every other word he yelled was “F**k!” In fact, he was on his way to “f***in’ destroy Vegas!”

The other guy was sober, at first. Actually, he didn’t even know the guy next to him. He tried to cut the conversation short, which was one-sided and had gone for over an hour, but he relented as bro number one bought him liquor.

The new best friends bonded and amplified nonstop. I turned up the volume on my tablet and hoped seven episodes of Master of None would distract me for the remainder of the flight.

I made it through two episodes.

A middle-aged woman sat across and two rows behind me. She yelled, “I’m so tired of this f***in’ flight!” I understood the sentiment.

She tried to order a drink but was refused service. She would then leave her seat, pacing the aisle, muffin top oozing out her tight but saggy jeans. A female flight attendant told her to sit back down or she’d have the police waiting upon landing. The drunk relented, but not before she asked why the bros did not have their liquor cut off. Whatever justification given was not enough. She shouted over the engine noise: “Fa**ots!”

The woman, who was either Asian or post spray tan white, was walking down a slippery slope. I figured the N-bomb would be dropped next. But sense came over her and she took a seat.

But the bros did not take kindly to the slight. One called her a “c**t.”

It was on!

A male flight attendant sat next to the drunk woman. I figured he wanted to calm her, and he did, but with some sort of strange alternative therapy that involved dry humping.

The woman straddled the flight attendant as he kissed her cleavage. Then there was tongue action. Her hands gripped his face as she pulled him closer. I noticed her fingers were missing. It looked as if at least one hand had been mangled.

Damn this was a strange flight.

It was dark and none of the other passengers seemed to notice the orgasms-in-process. The bros were apparently past the conflict and focused on getting some “f***in’ legit Thai food” in Vegas.

I said to the passenger next to me, “You see them making out?” The sista responded, “What! And that’s the goddamn flight attendant?”

Another passenger rang the call bell. The male flight attendant tried to scoot from under the drunk woman. She held on and got in a few more grinds. He adjusted his pants (and probably his boner) and went back to work. He had things to do that didn’t involve thrusting.

Another flight attendant soon came out from the bathroom area. She asked the drunk woman to put on her seat belt. “F**k that,” she responded. The attendant sighed and walked away. The sexual healer/male flight attendant returned and asked the drunkard to put on her seat belt. Suddenly happy and maybe still horny, she giggled and followed his instructions.

We landed. The lights came on and I looked at the flight attendant for clarification, like, “What are you?” He smiled and started talking to the bros behind me: “I made an executive decision to only charge you for six drinks. Everything good?” he said.

The loudest of the loud bros responded. “Dude, I saw you making out with that chick. I’m not even going there, but are you sure you only charged me for six?”

“I took care of everything,” he responded.

Yes the hell you did, you horny job-risking bastard. And my slightly edited version of Frontier Airlines’ slogan says it all: “Low Fares (and passengers) Done Right.”

(Note: Frontier Airlines provided me with a $25.00 voucher after I complained about witnessing bad simulated sex on their flight.)

-Dewan Gibson