Beef Jerkey & Chelsea Farts

Apparently the travel embargo has been lifted.

Who knew that there would be so much good looking cargo on a flight from Calgary?
Shit sister, if this is what it is like there then slap me on the ass and call me a cowboy…I moving. The 6 inches of snow there was enough of a memory to keep me grounded in Toronto.

Shit – and sorry to him. If I had known that I was going to be there in advance and if I had had internet access, I would have e-mailed. I would have simply loved to meet up with you.

I flirted with one particular strapping 30 something passenger on the way back from cow-town to the YYZ. I played eye contact games…him staring down the aisle watching what I’m doing, me sauntering around the galley giving him my best side. Hiding behind the galley curtains. He eventually had to get up to use the lav so I immediately locked it as if a passenger was in it thereby forcing him to stand and wait in the galley for the lav on the other side to free up. My plan worked and we chatted for about ½ hr.

Last night I arrived at La Guardia around 10 pm. On the way down 5 passengers in business class were dirking gin & tonic. This immediately drummed up a craving and I licked my lips every time I served one….they needed to wet and moist and supple as the business boys were hot! The crew took the shuttle bus to our hotel across the road. I checked in, went to the business center and promptly looked up what kind of trouble I was going to get into in NYC on a Wednesday night.

Not much apparently.

The city was dead. DEAD. I took a cab to Chelsea and went here. Hung out by myself for bit drinking gin & tonic. Eventually met a nice guy named Glenn. He was an illustrator – AKA struggling artist who can’t pay the rent so has to work retail so he can eat. Sad when people can’t do what they want.

Glenn took me to a club called hell for more cocktails. I think this was in the outskirts of the meat packing district. Then we went to some other club where the bartender was not wearing a shirt. Then we went to some restaurant and had some food.

It was at this point, on the way to the restaurant, that I saw the squirrels. Humm…rather large squirrels in manhattan...and so many!! They did not have fluffy tails. There were no trees around. I comment to Glenn about the squirrels. He laughs. “Lady – those be rats”

Walking along on our way back to Chelsea we see Edward Norton standing in front of this club that is supposedly the shit of the meet packing district. We stop in a corner store and buy some beef jerky to chat & chew while watching the commotion.

Glenn and I were laughing at all of the b list celebrities and dishing Alex Baldwin when my stomach started to act up. I was commenting on the sounds from my stomach saying it sounded like beef jerkey had a whole shock & awe campaign going against the G&T.
All of a sudden this African American man approaches us and asks “got a fart?”

I look at Glenn and I’m like “What did he just say?”

The man says “got a fart? I want to smell your fart. Just one. …. Come one, give me a fart. I like farts. I know you have one for me. “

I look at Glenn and he winks.

Never in my life have I ever let one rip like I did for that man. He witnessed my own little shock & awe.

Girls, with all my flying these past few days I neede to DECOMPRESS sumthin' fierce.

My energie jeans will never be the same. Thank god for the low rise style…gas escapes faster when half your bootie is hangin’ out.

Glenn let out his own as well but his sounded like a little french horn. He's spannish though.

The man was ecstatic and actually put down his paper bags of dead skin smelling clothing, sat down on the sidewalk and started to humm as he inhaled the sick air. Glenn and I were laughing so hard. You know you get along with someone when you can fart with them. Male bonding I guess?

Glenn and I finally made it to a restaurant where we had red wine and grilled cheese sandwiches. This was fantastic trendy little place that supposedly is hoppin’ on the weekends when they open the downstairs.. Beautiful décor and beautiful wait staff. Oh..the food was yummy too.

We talked and talked and talked. At 4:30 am I thought it would be best to head back to the hotel and get some sleep.

What a treat the night turned out to be and I now have a friend in NYC to call up upon.

Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are there yet?

I'm not one to bitch but really, if I smell the inside of another airplane I'm gonna puke.

Thank you to everyone that wished me a happy birthday. I had a great time in LA. I will reply to your e-mails and will post about it later, along with pictures, once my life gets diverted back to Toronto and I can hang up the green uniform.

I bid a schedule of reserve so that I could extend my vacation time from the airline this month. This means that for a select period of time, I'm at the beck and call of the airline. They can send me anywhere, anytime on short notice. Since last Friday to this Thursday I will have been home one night and visited San Francisco, Los Angles, Montreal, Calgary and now New York tomorrow (Wednesday) night. It's totally my fault and I'm an idot for bidding it, but once I get home, I'm jetting off to Cancun for a week vacation and I'm done for the month of November. No more flying until December.

I was supposed to be home tomorrow but the airline contacted me in-flight AGAIN today to send me to NYC tomorrow. I told crew scheduling that I've been away so long that if they gave me another flight I'd be forced to slit my wrists and wave them in the air. That blood bath would be better then the one I'm in for when I get home.

This did not go over very well so the bitch gave me the NYC layover. Look - I left home on Monday expecting a turn around flight as that is what they gave me when they called at 4:30 am. Instead it has turned into a 4 day paring and now I have run out of clothing. I'm doing my fu*king laundry in the hotel bathtub. I feel like a vagrant and I don't smell very good. My electric razor smells like dead skin. I've been away from home for so long that I feel like Cyber Kenny.

I just had dinner in the hotel bar in Calgary. Nothing like sitting with a bunch of white hick trailer park trash listening to "get busy" by shaun paul over the bar stereo and watching a Calgary flames game on the big screen. I'm not in Kansas anymore...

TorontoBoi and I had a nice lunch at the airport yesterday. He has really been no judgmental with me and the trouble my relationship is in. He knows my partner. He knows how I act so differently when he is around. He knows my squirrels personally.

I love my partner dearly. I'd die for him. No question. But at one moment I want to be free. I want to move out, live on my own. The next minute, I want my partner to be there. I want to hug, kiss and hold him and tell him that I love him. My god, I've called him at least 4 times a day since I've been gone. Yet when I'm home, I don't want to be around him. It's so fu*ked up and I really don't know what to think any more. One minute I'm happy with my relationship, then next I'm not.

I'm ashamed and humiliated by my previous extra curricular activities. I feel like a slimy 2 timing bastard and wonder if I were to loose this relationship if anyone would ever trust me again. Why would anyone want me? Everyone will judge me for what I've done. Now I'm just another gay statistic. But as TorontoBoy said, I can't dwell on this, I have to look at the reason I went looking for stimulation outside of our relationship.

I think that I have found this reason. I work too much. Our business together and the 17 staff are killing me, my partner and our 11 year relationship.

I feel like I live to work. I want to work to live. I want to give up the glamorous condo; the lake view; the houskeeper; the luxury car; the property in Cancun. I'd give it all up for some space. Some time for me. For my individuality. For some companionship. I feel alone. We are so automated in our routine at home when I'm not flying. Get up, work out, eat breakfast, go to the office, come home, make dinner, watch TV, have sex every 4 days. Where is the spice? It has been like this for the last 8 years and I've had enough.

I've forced him to go to couple therapy. He has done nothing the therapist suggests. I have invited him out with my friends but he hates them. I am trying to hook us up with other couples to do the dinner thing with but he is so introverted that I always have to guide the conversations ad babysit his feelings.

I just don't know.......I just don't know if I really want to go home or if I hoping that crew scheduling just keeps on adding to my my cycle so that I never go back. I just don't know.....

Now on a happier note.....

I have a few questions to which I would like answers to.

1. Why are there so many bloggers from Atlanta? What is up there? Are they giving out free high speed?

2. Is there an embargo on gay travel? I've operated at least 10 flights and only one of them had any lookers on it. The flight was from Montreal to Frisco.

3. Why do all the boys from Montreal have FANTASTIC jeans. I mean everyone!

4. Why do passengers INSIST on puking in the sink and not the toilet. Really, how the fu*k do they thing the chunks are going to get down that needle sized drain? And how do the people of Reno Nevada feel as the vomit that did make it through the drains freezes and falls off the aircraft into their tomato patch?

5. Who in their right mind would be an aircraft cleaner because they are the ones to empty the sink. I just lock the bathroom and let them deal with it on the ground.