En Route

Somewhere between Texas and California
American Airlines flight #1537
30,000 feet

Me: So, here we are. I’m stuffed in this stupid seat worse than any sad little sardine.. How are you doing?

Him: Reasonably well. Being of, umm, somewhat smaller stature, I feel less sardinish.

Me: That is due to one of two things:

1) You’re barely two inches shorter than me, for Pete’s sake! And stop using that against me. It’s not like I chose to keep growing after high school.

2) You’ve apparently failed to notice that the moron in front of you is a bit more courteous than the moron in front of me, and hasn’t tilted his seat back as far. Thus, extra leg space for you.
See? All better now!

Him: I suppose it has nothing to do with the fact that you let me have the aisle seat on both flights so far?

Me: I don’t give up the aisle for just anyone, you know. I also forgot to add in the above that being two inches shorter reflects absolutely nothing on your… extracurricular performances. Rest assured that you make up for any difference *very* well. Remarkably so, in fact.
See? All better now! Again! At least I hope.

Him: Is it getting hot in here or is it just you?

Me: It's always me, darling. The restroom sign says VACANT. Shall we go join the Mile High Club?

Him: I’d love to, but have you seen those things? There is barely enough room in there for a guy two inches shorter than me!

Hey, guy behind me… please stop reading what I am writing. It is not only rude and unwelcome, but you have just made an ass out of yourself.

Me: Wow, that is so just the rudest thing. Now if we do want to join the Mile High Club, he’ll see and report us to the sexy stews. We’ll be seeing San Francisco through the Alcatraz windows.

Him: Hmmm… what is the elevation above sea level at Alcatraz?

Me: I have no idea, but I’ll bet that you do.

Him: Nowhere near a mile, I bet.

Me: Just about *everyone* is a member of the Mile High Club. We can be different with Alcatraz and join the… Former Maximum Security Club.

Him: Wow… you badass!

Me: You so love that.

Him: I can’t believe that badass made spell check.

Me: Your mind is only ever on one thing. Punctuation.

Him: That’s right. By the way, you’re not planning on posting this are you?

Me: For surely.

Him: No way! Had I known that I would have been more suave, eloquent and astute.

Me: Always time to remedy that. The VACANT sign is still on.

Him: Well then, look at who has the one track mind. Remember the Little Johnny joke?

Me: The, “I like the way you think” one? That means that despite all the attempts at remaining calm, civil an PROPER, you like the way I think.

Him: Yes, they say that opposites attract, you know?

Me: Yeah, but in our case that’s not true. You’re just putting on this act of eunuch-ness because you’re shy of the blog people.

Him: Me?? Shy??? Noooooo!

Me: You blushed this morning when I said you were cute.

Him: It was the wine from the night before, and lack of sleep.

Kiss

Him: Okay, now I’m blushing.

Me: Know what?

Him: What's that?

Me: I’m glad you’re here.

Him: I’m glad I’m here too. By the way, have I thanked you yet for taking me to San Francisco? I never would have taken the time to get away if you hadn’t suggested it.

Me: You don’t have to thank me, I know it’s all there. I have a feeling we’re going to have a fantastic time, too. I knew that for sure this morning, when the pigeon crapped on my suitcase. That’s supposed to be good luck.

Him: So I hear. Well, let’s hope it holds true. You know what I think? I think we will have a fantastic time and credit it all to the pigeon crap. If nothing else, it makes for a good story.

Me: That it does. To San Francisco and pigeon crap.

Him: Indeed. Here’s wishing that the proverbial lucky pigeon shares a bit of crap with all of us.

Me: You have the prettiest eyes. Gush.

Him: Jay Bondrock, you’re wonderful! …I know.

Me: So modest! You must be Italian. Or short.

Him: No, just me….

Me: You have nice ears, too.

Him: You really think so? Wow, that’s swell of you to say. I really try to keep my ears looking pretty for you. I’m glad you noticed. You have pretty ears too. I notice them when I’m not staring into the sun.

Me: You devil, you!

For enquiring minds, see Seinfeld archives for the meaning of "staring into the sun."As for wanting to know if we made it into the Mile High Club, to paraphase Brittany Murphy as creepy unstable girl in the movie Don't Say a Word.... I'll never tell!