i have a cold and try to sneeze with my eyes open but it doesn’t work. it seems most sports involve balls and the Olympics will begin soon in London and we don’t give a shit and eventually get on the plane where we can think about everything yet do nothing for hours. these days i’m totally cool with dying on a plane, not that i want to die, i’m actually a huge life advocate but if it were to be anywhere i’d be okay with it up in the air and this works for me because it clearly means i have sorted out my fear of flying and i kind of turn myself on with all this confidence. i stare at a map of the world in the back of a magazine deciding where to go next and it’s either beef or cheese tortellinis and the pasta sauce looks like blood and pus and is delicious. the flight attendant is hitting on our neighbor who is wearing a wedding band but that doesn’t seem to matter so much because he’s in a jazz quintet and has just finished a European tour and we laugh about this with his band mate who sits to our left and tells us he has been talking about fucking a cougar since the beginning of the tour and this may be his chance or at least a couple of free drinks and soon she has brought over a show and tell scrapbook of celebrity musicians hair locks and signatures and a bag of scotch and that’s probably better than a quickie in the bathroom anyway. i’m not a part of the mile high club and any chance i’ve had to do so i’ve passed on it just seems like it would be rushed and uncomfortable and then there’s all that anxiety of a line forming and i’m not into any of that although there was that one time in a porta potty but kids will do the darndest things and i should never say never but probably never or wait have i fucked on a plane now i can’t remember and there are these carlashes being sold in the Skymall magazine, big stupid plastic eyelashes that stick to the tops of each headlight and we talk about truck nuts, decorative plastic ballsacks that hang from the rear bumper of trucks they come in various colors like black and yellow and blue and we have a solid chuckle over blue balls and our new friend tells us “all i want for Christmas is some truck nuts” and the Cougar keeps walking by and smiling with a touch more lipgloss and better hair with each passing, ready to pounce or be pounded although i’m sure either will do.
