Authors note: I am cross posting this on three different sites because I think it fits different threads on each, and I am too lazy to rewrite it each time.
Cope with it.
Honestly, I am doing this to watch clouds, not to watch two porn stars screw each other on stage.
Right now I am sitting at FL390 (39,000 ft for the non initiated). I am on my way back home from San Francisco. I was there for three nights (which is a long trip for me – I usually do one or two night trips). It was certainly not my first time to the city, but this trip was different. After a while most o them blur together, but this was one of those trips where your whole mindset changes. Let me explain.
Seven or eight years ago, at least every other weekend, if not more, you could find me on a plane going somewhere. I love to fly. That is, when you can do it right. First Class. That used to be easy – I played the mileage game – I flew first class for what most people paid for coach. Unless you were weren’t a good shopper, then they probably paid more. But life got in the way, the flying game changed, and that life became just a memory. But the clouds – and the sun – still beckon, and every once in a while I still manage to take a nice trip.
A few weeks ago, I stumble upon some good deals to the west coast. I checked out what was going on, and naturally, I had to check out what was going on at the strip clubs. Lo and behold, the Nob Hill Theater was having their guest porn stars in to do a sex show – and they were featuring Jessie Colter. He is a power bottom and someone who I wanted to see perform. So I checked on flights to see what I could find. Lo and behold – American was flying the A332 between Philadelphia and San Francisco - and there were some great fares and upgrades available if I flew out of Boston and connected! I hadn’t been on a transcon in over two year, haven’t been in a lie flat seat in over a year. The flights were booked, hotel selected, and all was left to do was to find out how to entertain myself for a couple of days there.
To be honest most flights I will just sit therefor hours watching the clouds, staring by at the world passing down below. I think part of it has something to do with the fact that at 35,000 ft .the sun is always shining. It’s my happy place. Sometimes I will download an eBook, which will sit on my tablet for moths before even being opened. This time I downloaded something I found from one of these sites – All I Could Bare by Craig Seymour. It is the story of a guy who finds himself working as a stripper in D.C., first as a “research project”, and later as a chosen vocation.
I barely looked out the window the whole trip – one of the few books that I read straight through. Probably wouldn’t have if it was 2x2 seating, there was some more graphic descriptions in the book. But I had my own private cubby, and I was free to read – and to imagine. A brief synopsis of the book – Craig suddenly finds himself at a few strip clubs. He decides that he is going to take the chance to dancing, and finds an excuse in writing his thesis. Contrary to what you would expect, it turns out to be a rather positive experience. Instead of the drugs and booze and hopelessness, he finds dancers who strip because they it makes them feel good, he finds customers that become friends, and this whole, I guess you would call it a loose community of men who have managed to shake all their pretenses of the outside world and come to terms with who they are, both as dancers and as clientele. I won’t give the story away and let you read the book, but when I got off the plane and picked up Bart to my hotel downtown, my mind was racing. I wanted to head to the Nob Hill more than ever, but it was not just about seeing some guys cock. I wanted to see who these strippers really were.
The next morning I went to the MOMA. I guess I am just not an art person. There were a few things I liked, but most of it was just boring. There was this one painting which I swear had hidden image of Bill Clinton in it. But the painting was done in the sixties, so that made no sense. Probably just the uber-present pot smoke outside of Powell Street Station. Done with that in les than two hours, I headed up to Fisherman’s Warf, figuring I would grab an In-n-Out burger. But the line was out the door and down the street. Sorry, but their burgers are not THAT good. Time to find something else to do.
In my poking around on the Internet the night before, I saw that it was Bears at the Bath at Steamworks over in Berkeley. Now I am not a pretty guy. I am down a bit in weight – I am now under 300lbs, which may not be a big deal to you but for me that was a big accomplishment. But I still have man boobs the envy of any drag queen, a big belly and a paunch to match. Not to mention bad teeth and no hair. But I figured Bears afternoon would at least be a step in the right direction, I would be the only fat guy in a world of twinks. I decided at the last minute I would give it a try.
Cope with it.
Honestly, I am doing this to watch clouds, not to watch two porn stars screw each other on stage.
Right now I am sitting at FL390 (39,000 ft for the non initiated). I am on my way back home from San Francisco. I was there for three nights (which is a long trip for me – I usually do one or two night trips). It was certainly not my first time to the city, but this trip was different. After a while most o them blur together, but this was one of those trips where your whole mindset changes. Let me explain.
Seven or eight years ago, at least every other weekend, if not more, you could find me on a plane going somewhere. I love to fly. That is, when you can do it right. First Class. That used to be easy – I played the mileage game – I flew first class for what most people paid for coach. Unless you were weren’t a good shopper, then they probably paid more. But life got in the way, the flying game changed, and that life became just a memory. But the clouds – and the sun – still beckon, and every once in a while I still manage to take a nice trip.
A few weeks ago, I stumble upon some good deals to the west coast. I checked out what was going on, and naturally, I had to check out what was going on at the strip clubs. Lo and behold, the Nob Hill Theater was having their guest porn stars in to do a sex show – and they were featuring Jessie Colter. He is a power bottom and someone who I wanted to see perform. So I checked on flights to see what I could find. Lo and behold – American was flying the A332 between Philadelphia and San Francisco - and there were some great fares and upgrades available if I flew out of Boston and connected! I hadn’t been on a transcon in over two year, haven’t been in a lie flat seat in over a year. The flights were booked, hotel selected, and all was left to do was to find out how to entertain myself for a couple of days there.
To be honest most flights I will just sit therefor hours watching the clouds, staring by at the world passing down below. I think part of it has something to do with the fact that at 35,000 ft .the sun is always shining. It’s my happy place. Sometimes I will download an eBook, which will sit on my tablet for moths before even being opened. This time I downloaded something I found from one of these sites – All I Could Bare by Craig Seymour. It is the story of a guy who finds himself working as a stripper in D.C., first as a “research project”, and later as a chosen vocation.
I barely looked out the window the whole trip – one of the few books that I read straight through. Probably wouldn’t have if it was 2x2 seating, there was some more graphic descriptions in the book. But I had my own private cubby, and I was free to read – and to imagine. A brief synopsis of the book – Craig suddenly finds himself at a few strip clubs. He decides that he is going to take the chance to dancing, and finds an excuse in writing his thesis. Contrary to what you would expect, it turns out to be a rather positive experience. Instead of the drugs and booze and hopelessness, he finds dancers who strip because they it makes them feel good, he finds customers that become friends, and this whole, I guess you would call it a loose community of men who have managed to shake all their pretenses of the outside world and come to terms with who they are, both as dancers and as clientele. I won’t give the story away and let you read the book, but when I got off the plane and picked up Bart to my hotel downtown, my mind was racing. I wanted to head to the Nob Hill more than ever, but it was not just about seeing some guys cock. I wanted to see who these strippers really were.
The next morning I went to the MOMA. I guess I am just not an art person. There were a few things I liked, but most of it was just boring. There was this one painting which I swear had hidden image of Bill Clinton in it. But the painting was done in the sixties, so that made no sense. Probably just the uber-present pot smoke outside of Powell Street Station. Done with that in les than two hours, I headed up to Fisherman’s Warf, figuring I would grab an In-n-Out burger. But the line was out the door and down the street. Sorry, but their burgers are not THAT good. Time to find something else to do.
In my poking around on the Internet the night before, I saw that it was Bears at the Bath at Steamworks over in Berkeley. Now I am not a pretty guy. I am down a bit in weight – I am now under 300lbs, which may not be a big deal to you but for me that was a big accomplishment. But I still have man boobs the envy of any drag queen, a big belly and a paunch to match. Not to mention bad teeth and no hair. But I figured Bears afternoon would at least be a step in the right direction, I would be the only fat guy in a world of twinks. I decided at the last minute I would give it a try.
