The Hose

Before This Conversation Proceeds Any Further, It's Important For Me To Clarify That I Am Not At All Gay.

Having to sit in coach is now a chore for me. After two first class flights, I am no longer used to the cramped seating in coach - the way one has to wait for other people to get up before you can sit, the way my knees bang against the back of another seat. It's not fun. There was nothing more depressing on Sunday than the fact that there was not a fresh vodka and soda waiting for me everytime I finished a drink. Let's not even get into how much I have to put up with just to go to the restroom. Its just not very fair at all...

I'm not sure what lottery I have to win for the online travel system at work to place me in first class consistently, but this time I had lost it. Not only was I sitting in coach, I was sitting in the 30th row. No fun at all. Not only that but when I went to the restroom there was some crazy west Indian woman screaming into her cell phone about (the now gay) Cynthia Nixon sitting in first class with her baby.

When I returned to from the rest room I was pleased to find a SMOKING blonde in the aisle seat. She was on the phone and when she noticed I was trying to get into the center seat she "graciously" slid her legs up on her chair so I could get by. THANKS!

When seated, I promptly joined my rowmates in text messaging news about Cynthia Nixon to the most appropriate party. In my case that meant texting my co worker who was seated 10 rows in front of me. I made sure to do this in plain site of the pretty blonde, hoping to paint myself as a kindred spirit. Then I went for the death blow, the Mortal Kombat finisher. I went into my bag and pulled out my copy of US Weekly.

It was unclear whether she was smitten or just happy to be sitting next to a gay fat guy. In order to set the record straight for everyone. I looked at her smiling face and stated :

"Just so we're clear...I'm not gay at all. I am just really interested in figuring out what's going on with Britney Spears wedding"

Our conversation went off rather swimmingly for a few minute. We read US Weekly concurrently and debated the relative attractiveness of Jessica vs Ashlee Simpson - I defending Ashlee and she supporting Jessica. I pointedly omitted any mention that I might prefer brunettes to blondes, as she was a tiny yet slinky blonde.

It was during this conversation that I noticed something...her breathe reeked of Vodka...That's so hot.

Our next topic covered her visit to NY. She detailed visiting various ex-boyfriends and drinking for days on end. A few days later when telling this story to Andy, a co-worker, he suggested that I should have asked if "she had a porter for all her emotional baggage", quite possibly the funniest thing I have ever heard.

Her NY odyssey ended with what seemed to be a 15 hour drinking binge. I debated proposing marriage right there.

Regrettably, her own little Mike Figgis film ended with her stumbling towards LaGuardia rather than dying in a cheap motel with Elizabeth Shue humping her.

Her story about fighting with an ex-boyfriend about whether or not he would pick her up at the airport did not do much for me. Rather than propose marriage. I downgraded her to a proposal to handle me in the airport restroom.

She asked if I was also connecting to another flight, probing me for a dinner invitation in an airport. Unfortunately, I had my coworker to worry about, as I had already promised the poor girl a ride to my hotel. She did not seem to believe me but let it go.

It disturbed me that as I got off the plane she was still committed to following me. I quickly slid up to my coworker in the terminal, praying my CW would pick up what I was trying to do and resist the compulsion to smack me in the face. Ever quick on the up take, she shot my new stalker a glare and made it a point to only address me as we walked away.

After about 200 yards my drunk stalker got the hint and walked off...

This story is just like me, all build up and no pay off....