by Joe Thomas
“Can I touch you here?” I asked before rubbing his inner thigh.
“Yeah. Do what you want.” He lifted his shirt to show off his slightly hairy chest. His body was perfect. I gazed upon him like a pilot God sent directly to me from Crew Scheduling. “But I want to warn you. I’m not gay so I probably won’t cum. Don’t be offended.”
I stared at him with my hands up his basketball shorts. Was that a dare? A dare to make sure he got off? Challenge accepted. I promised myself the only thing coming between me and his unborn babies was my airport report time. Limitation number two, I refuse to be late for dick.
How do you even call Crew Scheduling for that? I imagine something like, “Hi. This is Joe. Listen, I’m running late. I got this massive dick in front of me that I’m trying to suck and things aren’t going so well. In fact, things are backed up worse than runway 13R at JFK during rush hour. If you could just delay the flight until I get there, I’d appreciate it. Oh yeah, before I forget, the first officer will be late too. Thanks.”
When I finally completed the daunting task of Connor’s fellatio—and trust me, it was more strenuous than a Jillian Michaels kettlebell workout—he looked down at me, “Thanks. At least I’m not gay.”
I wiped my chin, “That’s all you’ve got to say? Was it at least good?”
“Yeah. It was good,” he pulled his shirt down, “but I had to think of my fiancé the entire time.”
Did I have the right to be insulted? Even if I didn’t, I was. Here I still had my finger on the trigger of his joystick and he felt the need to inform me he thought of his fiancé the entire time. I moved from between his legs so he could stand and pull his basketball shorts up. We didn’t talk as I walked him to the door and opened it up.
“You aren’t going to act all weird tomorrow, are you?” I asked standing to the side to let him out.
He smiled, “No worries, Joe, I’m a professional.” And with that he was gone. I closed the door, brushed my teeth, and went to bed. I relieved the pressure built up in my groin. I really had to, there was no way out of it. My balls were cobalt blue.
After shutting off the television I recapped the entire night in my head. When the fantasy finished playing out, I’d rewind and hit play. I’d be lucky to get one hour of sleep that night. From the moment he casually gave me his cell phone number at the gate in JFK to me locking the door behind him, I deduced this operation was planned. What else could it have been? The entire situation played out like a scripted airline porn. A pretty fucking hot one if you ask me. Drifting off to sleep I had one final thought… Connor either lied about never having his dick sucked by a guy before or he simply used me to figure out his own sexuality.
Whatever the case, I wasn’t angry. I helped him out and I helped his fiancé out. My good deed was complete.
The next morning all four of us met in the hotel lobby to catch our van to the airport. Connor avoided me like I was wearing a t-shirt that read: Guess Who I Sucked Off Last Night? When I greeted him he nodded walking passed me like a stranger.
Professional my hot fucking mouth!
The van ride was controlled by Lori and Brian. It was still early so Connor and I were able to disappear into the leather seats unnoticed. It worked out well because we were both obviously exhausted and not in a social mood. Plus, he sat in his seat stiffer than his cock from the night before. We might as well have had the word GUILTY tattooed across our faces. Even the van driver picked up on it. Truthfully, I don’t know if he did, but that’s what feeling guilty does to you. Makes you think everyone knows the horrific things you have done when in reality nobody does. Except for the guilty party, which in this case, included me and Mr. Stiffypants.
We had two easy flights that day but when we got to Jacksonville, Lori called in sick for back pain. That’s the excuse she gave me but I’m thinking it was to report me to management for verbally attacking her at the hotel bar the night before. Let’s face it, I said some inappropriate shit. I deserved to get reported and probably terminated. My blame fell on the gin and tonics but that took me only so far. As Brian, Connor, and I waited for a replacement flight attendant, I decided to simply enjoy my last few days as a flight attendant. At least I got to check off the pilot dick-sucking box. Always think positively.
After the new flight attendant arrived, we boarded and took off for Indianapolis. We were on day three of four and still had one more overnight in Indianapolis. During our flight, the pilots needed a lavatory break. I let the other flight attendant go into the flight deck while I stood guard at the galley. Brian came out first and then after returning to the flight deck, Connor came out. After he used the lavatory he spent a few minutes stretching in the front galley. I figured that was my time to strike up a conversation hoping he meant what he said about being professional, “How you feeling? You doing alright?”
“Yeah. I’m good. I’ve got a sore throat. Started the other day.”
A sore throat? I couldn’t believe it. He was sick and let me suck his dick? Was he kidding me? Everyone knows the penis is a spigot of germs. How dare he? I looked at him and made a disgusting face, “Oh great. Now you tell me you’re sick. Lovely.”
He smirked and disappeared back into the flight deck. We barely spoke for the rest of the trip. And I was fine with it. When we finally landed in Cleveland on our last day he picked up the interphone and called the back galley, “Hey, Joe. It was great flying with you. You are a funny guy.”
“Thanks. You too.”
We never spoke again. And in case you were wondering—because I know you are—nothing like that has ever happened again on a layover.
When I got to Evan’s apartment that night I briefed him on my entire trip. The good. The bad. The ugly. The blowjob. Actually, I left the blowjob out. I’d wait for the perfect time to recant that story. Once we were deep into our second bottle of red wine I coolly added, “Guess what else happened on the trip?”
“What?” Evan answered sipping on his glass of wine while tapping something into his cell phone.
“I blew the first officer in Detroit the other night.”
He gay gasped loud enough to pull the paint of the walls, “You did WHAT?”
I went into full storytelling mode and left out no detail. Evan is no stranger to my stories and this was a fresh new juicy one that kept him on the edge of his seat. When I finished, I took a sip of wine and waited for his reaction.
“Oh my god! I’m totally jealous. That shit never happens to me,” he chugged his glass of wine, “You have the best stories.”
I finished the last of my wine, grabbed his glass, and stood up from the sofa to go refill them in the kitchen, “I know, right? Maybe one day I’ll write a book.”
The End
Acknowledgements
There are so many people I need to thank for making this book a reality. I’m sure I will forget a few so let me just go on record and say THANK YOU to the entire planet. That pretty much covers it.
First off, I’d like to thank Jesus. I’m kidding. Did you really think I was being serious?
To my amazing husband Matt, thank you for reading and giving me constructive feedback on my book. You are my rock. You drive me absolutely crazy sometimes but I love you from here all the way to that Bibimbap restaurant on the corner. You have supported my desire to be creative throughout our entire marriage. Well, except for that time I wanted to start a concierge business in Orlando. Good call on that one.
To my brother from another mother, Mike. Even though you didn’t make an appearance in this book, I promise we will have an entire chapter together in my second book. Actually, this acknowledgement is your official appearance in my book so I guess I’m off the hook. That was easy. Don’t hold any of this against me when you write my biography after I’m dead.
I couldn’t write an acknowledgment without a shout out to my Trick Daddy. Meeting you—and nicknaming you—has been one of the highlights of my flight attendant career. I appreciate the patience you’ve shown wh
ile attempting to explain how airplanes work. I still don’t get it. Remember that time I asked you to read a portion of the book on a deadhead flight? You laughed and told me I was ridiculous. Now, let’s hope that ridiculousness makes me enough money to buy you a boat.
David, you have been here with me since the beginning of my flight attendant career. The crash pad. The highs. The lows. The laughs. The drunken escapades. The memories we share from our travels have inspired me in so many ways. I can never repay you. And thanks for never leaving my ass behind in a foreign country.
Adam, you are hands down my favorite captain of all time. Let me go on record and state to the entire Earth population that you are not the pilot in that last chapter. I’m not saying I wouldn’t, but frankly, your wife scares the fuck out of me. Thank you for your Instagram support, all the airplane pictures you’ve sent me for my blog posts, and for our daily inappropriate conversations. Those conversations have inspired me to be even more over the top.
My manager, Garon. When I was 100% sure I knew the path I wanted to take you’d come along and redirect traffic. My book and I needed that. Let’s hope we sell the shit out of this crap so you don’t fire me.
Russ & Sharon for loving me like their own son. That’s one of the greatest gifts I’ve ever received. Remember the first time we met at the barbecue place in Orlando? I bet you didn’t expect me to stick around this long.
The hottest, most sensual, perky-boobed, comic on the planet. I am not talking about myself, I am talking to you Laura Jean. From the moment I met you in that dark nasty flight attendant crew lounge, I have questioned my homosexuality. I’d literally throw myself on the bisexual fence for you. If I was on stage, all I’d need is you in the audience. That’s the type of balcony person you have become, but you’d still have to pay for a ticket—Daddy’s got bills.
Tyson, my book might have sunk faster than the Titanic if you didn’t pull me aside and tell me to rethink my title.
To Irene for not aborting me.
Tim P. for providing me the internal imagery for my book cover. That’s all it took for you to be in my book. That and all the amazing cat cards you mail me.
Ryan Lopez for bringing my book cover vision to life. It is amazing! I am so glad your sister’s, husband’s, brother’s, boyfriend saw my ad on Instagram.
To Robby for always making me laugh and helping me out with airplane lingo when I needed it.
Ryan, thank you for responding to my late night JFK questions via Facebook and for that one time you parked my arriving airplane at the gate closest to the Starbucks. That’s impressive!
Sara, thank you for reading an advance copy of the book, giving me your feedback, and not deleting me off Facebook. Actually, let me check. Be right back. Okay, we are still good.
To Renee, you literally saved my book from looking like a 5th grader wrote it. Hopefully I have learned something about commas. I doubt it. That’s why I have you. Editor extraordinaire. (Side note: she edited this acknowledgement and I had a comma error. FUCK!)
To Madonna Ciccone for being my one and only deity since I was 11 years old. I’m expressing myself because of you.
To comedians like Kathy Griffin, Joan Rivers, Chelsea Handler, Kristen Wiig, Louis CK, Chris Rock, Sarah Silverman, Tina Fey, Amy Poehler, and countless others—thank you for not giving a fuck, allowing people like me the strength to say whatever the hell we want.
Last, but certainly not least, to all the characters in this book who I have interacted with throughout the years. I appreciate you all. All of you. Seriously. The good, the bad, the people I hated then, and the people I still hate now.
About This So Called Author
Joe Thomas is a flight attendant and the creator of the barely successful blog Flight Attendant Joe. He resides in the San Francisco Bay Area with his husband Matt and his two amazing and loving cats, Tucker and Harvey.
1 We are paid for the original flight time. If we arrive early, we're still paid the full amount. That's right, bitches!
2 As of June 26, 2015, same-sex marriage was legalized in the entire United States. Take that, bigots!
Endnotes
[1] We are paid for the original flight time. If we arrive early, we're still paid the full amount. That's right, bitches!
[2] As of June 26, 2015, same-sex marriage was legalized in the entire United States. Take that, bigots!
