maleficent

Sexual Harassment at the Airport
____________________________________________________
I'm checking in for my flight, and O'Hare has this thing where they, to speed along the check in process, or to make a person feel useful or something, they have the TSA Agents search the bags by hand, rather than going thru the security machines. It's a little faster, and a few less steps, and a few less people to deal with, so I'm OK with it.
Until tonight that is.*

The check in lady calls the guard over, and asks if he would like to hand search my bag. This is the same guard who has been searching my bag for the past few weeks, so he makes a joke that I'm a regular and we're old friends. I made some sort of joke about how he has become rather fond of my undies, and well , whatever works for him. And I trotted off to my flight.

Chuckling on the way. wondering if I could be stopped for sexual harassment.
Now I know I can't make jokes anymore about bombs and blowing up planes and stuff, I wonder when they will institute the no harassment policy in the airport. When they do, I think I'm the person who's responsible and I'm sorry.

OOOOOH Pretty....
_________________________________________________________
Oh My!
Subtlety has never been one of my strong suits. I say what's on my mind, and often times, I chase those words when they come out of my mouth, in hopes that I can shove them back in. I am rarely successful. My mouth is quite large from sticking my feet in it.

So, there was Dave on the plane last night. Dave was the flight attendant in first class, and oh he was worth the upgrade. So very pretty, and so very straight (there was no sashay at all in him). That expression, long, tall drink of water, oh baby, did it apply to him. About 6'2", thick wavy brown hair, amazing green eyes, smile that could light up a room, no facial fuzz, but just enough five o'clock shadow to make him unbelievably sexy. And when he took off his uniform jacket, the buns oh baby, and the shoulders... A cold shower would have been appropriate.

So, he strides over to me and asks me if I wanted anything... Ummm... (Oh, if only the running commentary in my head would shut up) While my social skills generally suck, tonite, I also started to stutter, somehow I got out that a glass of wine would be delightful. He came over and chatted for a bit mid flight, kept me in wine, and eventually I could put together a sentence or two. Then sadly, the flight ended.*

But what a nice bonus on the flight, he was just soooo pretty and didn't seem to realize that he was. That makes a nice boy.

__________________