Waylaid Aussie + Drunk Irishman

This morning I had a pick-up at the Halifax Backpackers Hostel. Alan the Irishman was leaving for St.John's, Newfoundland and it was up to me to get him there. The only problem was, he and a few others decided to have one last drunken revelry the night before. The other caveat was that Fiona the Aussie needed a ride to the airport at the same time. The pick up was for 9 o'clock am so I had made sure to get there half an hour early...which was not a problem. The hostel staff informed me that Alan had been on the roof o the hostel as early as two hours ago, but stupidly I was not consternated, so I sat until ten minutes to the hour drinking coffee and browsing the paper; I went up to the second floor where his dormitory was, and sure enough he was fast asleep. I gave him a few shakes, and whistled loudly at him. He was still very, very drunk. Everyone else in the room grumbled at my intrusion and snide comments were thrown carelessly about and only because of my proffessional demeanor did I refrain from berating these slothful clowns, who should have been up hours ago, engaging in something productive.
Fiona had already been up and ready to go when I arrived, and I could see that she was becoming very agitated, for every good reason. Nearly half nine, Alan stumbled downstairs, smelling like a brewery, in socks complaining about lost shoes. I herded him out to the truck, but at that time there was little hope that Fiona would catch her flight. It turned out that Alans shoes were on the street, and we retrieved them unsurreptiously. We were able to get to the airport on time...but Fiona had to re-book her flight, and was able to get some money from Alan for the fees and another nights stay at the hostel.

I am thinking about getting out of this business. Its too stressful.