This is a group of LA bound passengers, so I am inundated with fake tits. Why is “tits’ more crass than “boobs”? I say “boobs” and I feel like a giggling teenager. Boobs are maternal. There be TITS here!
Ran into a little snag. How do you go to the bathroom without leaving your bags or settling up? Working some muscles now to hold off the inevitable.
I watched one of the ‘Fake’ woman lick the salt off of her caesar. I think you need to make a conscious effort to keep that sexy. This was not. It was like a horse to salt…oh, that’s just too dead on. I think she saw me staring, and now I’m doing that thing where you stare at random objects just to prove to her that it wasn’t personal, I’m just a really deep thinker.
After 20yrs of drinking I still can’t trust my “Genius Ideas”. I convince myself of the most inane prospects. I write them down emphatically and tomorrow I’ll wake up and wonder what I should do with “Hotdogs/jungle theme/internet”. I heard a stand-up say the same thing once…I’m not a precious snowflake. I also still think that, 3 beers in, I’m those most charming mofo. I’m currently ‘putting out the vibe’ as if to say “Trust me, there’s dynamic conversation to be had over here! LINE UP!”
The radio is nailing some fantastic 70s & 80s tunes. Def Leopard’s ‘Hysteria’, New Order and now ‘This Flight Tonight’ by Nazereth. Salt Lick Woman catches me singing along and I catch her singing too. We lock eyes. Maybe there’s something there. Her elderly husband is doing Soduko & we’re bonding with “I’m drinkin’ sweet champagne got the headphones up hiiiiigh…” Horse imagery be damned.
As I’m feeling Huey’s ‘Power of Love’ I’m thinking of just posting this blog now. My typing is getting a little sloppy…and it’s not that I get more opinionated the more I drink, it’s just I FEEL it more. I’ve always thought John Cougar’s ‘Jack & Diane’ is overplayed & overrated, but beer makes me say it out loud to the bartender who really only has one thing to say to me, “Another?” I judge for the briefest moment before “Yes please.”
Dodgy. My flight is still over an hour away. My agent called and I was making very little sense. I need to reel this in. Got my bill & headed to Tim Hortons for something to eat. The guy in front of me is the Loud Yawner. You know this guy? His yawn is more of an announcement than a reflex. We get it, you have a story, we All do. The employee says “Here’s your change, your order will be up over there and we’ll call you.” Yawner replies “Call me what? HAHAHAHA…Ahhhh, ok, Thanks.” His kids hate introducing him to their friends.
…and then I notice it. Old Man Yawner left his paid for Croissant by the till. I place my order, casually lifting my bag onto the counter. I scope the joint, measure my guilt. Yawner is now chatting up an uninterested single woman. I stuff the croissant into my bag, pay for my drink and run. I had planned on going back to the bar for Beer 6, but there’s too much heat now.
I scramble to my gate, and with croissant in mouth, I “go the mattresses” to sober up.
*update* Loud Yawner is sitting in front of me on the plane. Fighting the urge to confess.