On the plane home from LA the other day I sat next to Francis McDormand, you know, the pregnant cop from Fargo, I had just seen the movie for the third time the night before so it was a nice surprise cuz I really like that movie. I annoyed myself for the first half an hour of the flight because I pretended I didn't know who she was which is totally gay city, especially because I had to sit next to her for a billion miles. I noticed that she was edging her arm onto the arm rest and for a quick second I considered making room but then I remembered that holding my ground on armrest space is probably one of my best talents, why make an exception just cuz it's Francis McD? Right?
I held my ground. I didn't budge.
She persisted, eventually sliding her arm on top of mine.
and leaving it there,
for like a long time,
long enough to make us both horny.
Minutes later we were giving each other blow jobs in front of everyone on the plane.
They all pretended not to not notice.
Francis McDormand never stops smiling during sex. Cool.
When we finished up we sat there, still not talking and then I annoyed myself by playing aloof instead of just asking for her number. But then again, I didn't really need to, from where I was sitting I could see her cellphone in her purse and the number was written in white ink all across the front of it. All I needed to do was memorize it. Interestingly, her mother, who I hadn't noticed earlier sitting in the seat beside her, was eyeballing the cellphone trying to memorize the number too. They must not be very close. So sad.
When I got off the plane Santa Claus tried to make small talk with me, explaining the ins and out of being a stow away, apparently that's how he gets around, not reindeer. The coolest thing he showed me was that, even though you can't see them, each individual row of seats has it's own door on both sides, just like a four door car has a door for the back seat, planes all have doors on every row, you just have to feel for the handle. Seriously, check it out next time you fly. He invited me to go with him but his next stop was Idaho so I obviously declined. Plus he smelled musty.
Later in the airport cafeteria I sat next to this Ralph Macchio looking douchebag who kept claiming he was Brazilian, i went along with it, asking him to say certain phrases in portuguese, he just mumbled out gibberish. I never told him that I'm fluent in portuguese. I think it might have actually BEEN Ralph Macchio. He looks weird old, like those tiny kindergarten kids with that weird disease that makes them look like a geezer.
Yeah, it was totally Ralph Macchio, half the stuff he was claiming was portuguese sounded like Mr. Miyagi.
I think I'm gonna call Francis.
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