"Wow, this is a drinking crowd, it's impressive," an aghast American air steward says on his second tour of the aisles as more and more Tartan Army members request a refill.
There are seven staff and more than 200 Scottish fans on the direct flight from Edinburgh to Boston. Around 15 minutes into the journey, a collective groan goes up as it becomes clear they've run out of beer.
It's safe to say the cultural differences become apparent before we've even left Scottish airspace.
15 minutes into the flight across to Boston and the plane has ran out of beer!
Think the transatlantic airlines have underestimated the Tartan Army… 🏴✈️🍺— Donald Erskine (@DonaldAErskine) June 11, 2026
It deepens the desire to answer the question of "how will Americans embrace the football World Cup?", especially as early reports from the BBC seem to suggest Bostonians have no idea why people are appearing in Scottish football tops.
"I've just posted a letter from America ... the girl at the counter asked why I was here, with a Scotland top on. She didn't even know the World Cup was on," one fan shared.
Another question that hangs over the impending tournament is how full the stadiums might be amid a flurry of resale tickets. Many fans I spoke to in the airport hadn't secured tickets yet and were patiently waiting on prices to drop. A by-product of the most expensive World Cup ever for fans.
What's unquestionable, though, is the passion, energy and belief among Scottish fans.
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Hope is a hard thing to come by as a loyal Tartan Army follower, but that's not news to anyone. What is fresh across the board seems to be genuine hope that we might beat the curse befallen on the national side and get out of the group.
One fan, Dowall, even told me he'd be "disappointed if we didn't make the semi-finals".
He also joked that he'd "sold a few organs" to make it to the tournament, a half-believable sentiment had it not been for his normal complexion and lack of scars.
He won't be alone in the belief element, though, after a rousing 4-0 final warm-up game victory over Bolivia , where Scotland remained dominant throughout – the "could we cause an upset?" question doesn't seem that far-fetched.
Of course, the Wetherspoons and assorted watering holes were rammed in the departures lounge. If the flights were struggling for litres of lager, my thoughts are with the keg changers at the nation's airports.
Back in the terminal, half an hour before taking to the sky, something unexpected happened.
I'm standing, looking for my gate information on the departures board, when every single hair stands to attention as a wave of goosebumps envelopes me.
A pipe band can be seen in the distance, gathering a cauldron of fans and a conga line of those keen enough to join its march behind.
As one, the Tartan Army battalion – which had occupied the main terminal for the morning – broke into song, and Flower of Scotland reverberated through the packed airport.
I unashamedly admit that my eyes welled up during the rendition of the national anthem as it caught me in a way I haven't felt for years.
There's something about the atmosphere that surrounds this tournament for Scotland. Countless fans that I stopped en route to their departure gates launched into their own version of why this feels "once in a lifetime" for them.
Some hark back to the 2024 Euros in Germany and swap anecdotes about anthems and heartbreaks as the national side fell to the hosts on that occasion.
Opening games have, clearly, never been our strong point.
But among the nervousness of breaking the group stage glass ceiling, the collective opinion seems to be that both it and the opening game curse are for the breaking this time around.
What would be great to see repeated in this tournament, off the pitch, is the lasting impression on the hosts. Following the Euros, 50,000 signed a petition for an annual friendly between Germany and Scotland because of how well the tens of thousands of fans were received.
David missed the Euros, so he dropped everything to book up for Boston. Steven and Stuart had booked a long weekend just to catch the fateful Haiti opener. Dermot was jumping on a two-hour Uber from Connecticut to Providence. Meanwhile, Ross, Grand and their mum had scooped tickets for all three games but were taking two separate flights and a bus to the host city.
In short, fans have done anything and everything to make this World Cup work for them, and most believe they'll "spend what they need to" and then "deal with the rest later".
There are those who either made it to or missed France '98, too; they tell of history and heartbreak and the admission that they "didn't think they'd have to wait this long" before they'd be heading to the greatest sporting stage once more.
That carries into the belief around this crusade, a feeling of making a mark, of making this worth the 28-year wait.
Haiti, Morocco, Brazil , Boston and Miami. It all awaits the eager Tartan Army.
Amid the bagpipes and bumper beer volumes, the question they will soon have answered is "are they ready for them ?"
