I am currently way high in the air... it goes dark pretty fast when you board at dusk and fly away from the sun. Flying out of San Francisco is something I have done many times, but only today have I been on a flight that takes me over Ocean Beach and around the perimeter of the city- beautiful. Subjective, though.
Aside from a few flies in my ointment- like my new bag not only being too big to carry-on, but newly broken after the first use. I remained positive as I shipped my American phone to the family who got it for me and once again, became phone-less. I spoke to my ex for the last time in a long time, only to have it affirmed that it's best that I move by a conversation that just left me drained... I write this knowing he wont read it, even if I sent it to him- he probably wouldn't. Bless his heart.
I was in the airport when two British chaps walked by, talking- I loved their accents. I must admit, I was particularly attracted to one, he wore a blue blazer and brown shoes- sharp features- probably a poof. I reminded myself of his likely sexual orientation as I approached the gate and found we were both boarding last. Maybe we would have talked if he wasn’t with his male companion (fucking poofs). Low and behold, they were seated right behind me and they do like to carry on in a laughing way. I enjoy listening to their accents and begin anticipating London even more. I quickly realize they aren’t poofs, but probably date rapers... or something. The most obscenely derogatory motor boating you will hear, will come from Hugh Grant or some bloke. It is a very disappointing realization, to realize that the first co-ed interest I have had since the phone call with my disappointing ex, is in fact, worst than my lazy sweetheart. I am still over him, in the way that I must be. Perhaps, if this fellow behind me compliments my hair and forever lives to make up for his misogynistic ways, I will marry him. Perhaps.
The woman next to me doesn’t speak English, I think she’s Russian, if I am recognizing the text of what she’s reading... I barely recognize US capitols, so who knows. (rhetorical- she probably knows, but the language barrier)
I am trying to figure out the best way to prevent jet-lag, it’s about three in the morning in London now, so I really should be asleep... I took a quarter of a Valium, but I am like an angry rhinoceros, it seems. I may need another dart before I can be mounted by the sandman... or the bloke behind me. I just ordered a red wine and wasn’t charged... I guess that’s covered in the $250 over seas tax. I wish this whole plane was at a retreat getting to know one another, so I could just feel out who my new friends were going to be. Probably comics, and shitty friends at that, but I prefer being alone anyway.
The Russian is really going after her dinner.... it’s a salad cup, so I can’t blame her. Everyone seems to be talking because food is in front of them. I got my dinner 40 minutes ago because I ordered a specialty meal, now I am free to drink my wine and listen to the bustling conversation with two adorable rapists. I talked to him briefly about my seat being back and I could tell, he would totally rape me- I just got my lashes tinted and nails done. He wont rob me though, I bought a ultra-secure money belt. World Traveler over here!
I put my headphones back in because I got my wine and this band (Chain Gangs Of 1974) helps me stay in my own power. When you don’t understand English, that has to be really scary- this Russian woman actually seems stupid, but she just doesn’t know the language. My friend, Ula, is Polish. In Poland she had a lot of academic accomplishments, but in America she is just really good looking. I love her and I like this Russian woman. I am helping her with the flight attendants when they come around with their snotty accents, demanding she must know what ‘seat belt’ means, by using hand signals. I know that, in case of a crash, I will save her- after I make sure that my lap top makes it out.
My eyes are going out of focus as the wine begins to unlock The Secret Scroll Of Valium: Ancient Wisdoms On Making Yourself A Vulnerable Target For The Blokes Sitting Behind You. I think I will be napping as soon as I can put my seat back, which will involve me talking to Mr. Belvedere for another “convo” to see if I can yet.
Me: Are you done with your meal? May I put my seat back now?
Him: Yes, thank you.
Me: [turns away muttering] If you shower I will make a bidet of my mouth.
Him: [hand gesturing to his friend a blow job]
Poofs. It was never meant to be. Wish I had more Valium so I could just die now- a 29 year old spinster. Oh my! Not even to London and I am sounding like Bridget Jones... How promising... mainly because I am only moments from snagging Colin Firth and becoming Queen Of England. I am not sure I am ready for the responsibilities of a monarchy. I hardly want to be ‘People Magazine’ famous anymore, now that I am older... Hmmm, maybe I can wear a prosthetic mask or something. I should really nap. These should get better.
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