Don't Know When I'll Be Back Again...

Sitting at an airport bar yesterday afternoon, eating my lunch (drinking only water [disclaimer, disclaimer]) and watching the baseball game, a woman came up and asked if she could sit next to me. I, of course, said it was fine, and continued to work on my lunch, not really in the chatty mood. The woman ordered a beer and I honestly raised an eyebrow (I know, I know… I shall be careful of the stones I throw, living in a glass house and all).

The bartender asked her if she would like a shot with her large Bud Light for only two dollars more and the woman contemplated it for a moment prior to declining. She began drinking her beer and continued to make little comments to no one in particular. Unfortunately as I was the closest in proximity to her, I became no one in particular and was the lucky person that chatty Cathy decided to have conversation with.

Chatty Cathy turned to me and asked if I was from around the area or visiting. I told her that indeed I did live in Orange County. She then asked, “Where are you going today?”

I responded (still trying to eat my lunch), “I am going to [insert state locate on opposite side of the country].”

She then said, “Oh. Are you driving there?”

I could do nothing but look at her, returning the blank look that she seemed to have perfected so well. “Um, no. I am flying.” She didn’t even seem phased by the obviousness of this concept. She then ordered a shot of tequila. Yeah, she needed that.


As I wasn’t looking forward to the first (and the long) leg of my flight, I purchased two crossword puzzle books and planned on keeping myself entertained with that while on the flight. (For what reason American Airlines stopped playing movies, and instead started airing CBS’s “Eye on America” I have no idea…)

What could have been a miserable flight sped by as I ended up talking with the guy next to me the entire time. We covered all of the casual “getting to know you” topics of politics, religion and, of course, sex. He brought up a conversation that he had with friends previously in the week of frequency of masturbation. I laughed and said that he really didn’t want to get into that conversation with me. He thought it was because I hardly did.

I looked at him and said, “I am the best I have ever had, hands down. Pun intended.”

His eyes grew large and he said that he did it three to four times a week. I told him I could easily do that in a day, adding that I had twice at work (damn those naughty chat convos). His eyes grew bigger (although I am sure that’s not the only body part that enlarged a bit after I said that).

He was rendered unable to walk after we continued the conversation about dress-up, and I explained that packed in my carry-on was all of the ingredients that I needed for a chocolate cake with a whipped cherry filling. I said, “When my friend gets home from work tomorrow, his house will smell of a freshly baked chocolate cake, his favorite, and I will be on my knees in my brand new naughty schoolgirl outfit ready to reward him for his hard day at work.”

I can tell you tonight that the plan and execution left a very strong imprint with not only the guy on the airplane (and perhaps some people sitting in surrounding seats), but also my friend who reaped the benefits of such careful planning. Got to love a holiday away. Have a great weekend… we will.