Stand up stand by bystander

There’s something about the airport that releases my inner pervert. I find myself constantly scoping out travellers and stewardesses consuming them as objects. Even as a kid I was drawn to the hot blonde who would pass out extra peanuts and wings if you were a good flyer and if you were really good, a chance to meet the pilot and see the cockpit. (cock pit… See even now I
In post 9/11 America you can’t make any jokes about travel at the airport and everyone is hyper vigilant which impacts me because now I have to be extra sly while I’m scoping out the Bevvy of Air whores flitting about the terminal.

And I know they’re not whores, it’s just an over simplification of a stereotype perpetuated by 80s porn where all you needed was the right crew and a locked lavatory and cue the music “bom chicka wah wah” you’re were flying to the island of fuck town.

But it’s not real, none of this is real, the reality is that I’m flying stand by and I’m bored out of my skull, sure I could strike up a conversation with a stranger but I can only imagine how just my very look elevates the terror level to magenta or delta niner or whatever false flag scare tactic they are using to scare and titillate bored Americans to keep them consuming and moving.

I used to get excited about flying, when I was a kid I would lay in bed, not sleeping one bit because I was so excited to fly and now I stay up all night because I’ll sleep through any and every alarm, miss my flight and screw up work which is the reason I’m flying in the first place. Now I’m so tired when I reach the terminal, I’m too exhausted to be mad that I’m perceived as an enemy of the state and poked and prodded by underpaid under educated agents of the state. I’m too exhausted to flinch when the gate agent comes off as cunty and I wanna pull her colonel sanders bow tie in a noose like Rambo escaping from a prison camp. I’m hoping to get in my seat and wake up at my destination and sleep walk through the next destination so the reality of my dream coming true doesn’t implode my brain.

When I was a kid I said, all I want is a job where I get to travel where I don’t have responsibilities and I get to see and do things the rank and file don’t.

Looking back I probably would’ve nudged young me and said, throw in money, health insurance, and a rich absentee wife who will let you roam the globe while she works hard running your strip club/batting cage/golf course/ bubble hockey emporium.

But for all this complaining I’m accepting of my current situation.

I’m flying stand by waiting to be called to the podium, my career seems to be on the same path, just waiting for the next big jump but in the mean time groggily watching the hours click by, objectifying flight attendants and hoping one just one hot blonde one will give me extra snacks and cue the music.

Believe and you will achieve.

Tonight I’ll be back to the grind, back to the drawing board, back to basics, back on the streets again, spreading the disease.

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