My last flight

I got the call at around noon from dispatch while still asleep from a rather long evening the previous night. "Emily" had come over around 11 to have sex. She's a hot little 22 year-old paramedic that once delivered a patient to my plane. My flight paramedic knew her and promised to put a good word in for me. 2 weeks later we were sleeping together after we got drunk one night and banged on her kitchen counter.

We were scheduled for a 1530 departure on Friday afternoon and were to deliver a kidney to Cleveland. I showed up at the airport around 1400 to coordinate fueling, file a flight plan, do a weight and balance calculation and preflight the aircraft, a Learjet 35. The plane is a little older, but I still lovc it. It's fast, climbs like an eagle on crack, and has XM radio to listen to. My co-pilot, "Ray" showed up shortly after and we were off the ground about 10 minutes early. We were soon settled in for our 3.6 hour flight. Soon, darkness set and we watched in amazement as a brilliant moon rose in the East. First bright orange and then fading to a beautiful bright white. Cruising across the U.S. at a ground speed of nearly 550 miles an hour, I reveled at how lucky I am to have this job. Being a single, 30 year-old, handsome, slightly arrogant male, I have definitely reaped the benefits of the job, and yes, that includes subtly dropping the fact that I'm a jet pilot in order to get laid, and trust me, it works to perfection.

We landed at Cleveland's Burke Lakefront airport at shortly after 10pm. After refueling the plane, chatting with the lineman and having a smoke, we reboarded the plane for a quick reposition flight to Rockford, Illinois. We were scheduled to fly out the next afternoon to Philadelphia to transport a patient to Sacramento. Well, as is common the case, this trip fell through. I checked into the hotel at shortly after 11 and needless to say, headed straight to the bar. I found a place within comfortable drunk driving distance, about 3 blocks for me, called Cousins Sports Bar. I was quite impressed with the quality of women in this place. In fighter pilot parlance, it was a "target rich environment." There was a great DJ and the place was packed. I was riding solo this evening since my co-pilot, being married, retired early. I soon met a women named Tiffany. A bank teller from a nearby town. She wasn't the hottest girl in the place, but I rarely go for those. Too much maintenance and I'm always on a truncated time schedule. I usually have just several hours to seal the deal before I'm on to the next town, city, country. Tiffany was with her gay, male friend and was driving and therefore unable to "go get something to eat with me." We exchanged numbers and I promised her I'd call the next time I was in town. The bar was closing, eliminating any last ditch efforts to pick up a straggler. This night, I would strike out.

The next day I awoke late, as usual, to the phone ringing. It was dispatch saying the flight had been cancelled. Rockford would give me another chance! I showered and walked across the street to have lunch and watch Texas beat the shit out of Colorado. Go Horns!

I sent Tiffany a text message sometime during the second half that went unreturned. While at the bar I met a guy named Tim. A former Army officer a couple of years older than myself, Tim spoke with a slight lisp that increasingly annoyed me. He was on the same eternal pussy mission as myself, but somehow he just went about it all wrong.

After the football games, Tim and I decided to go back to Cousins for another try. We showed up around 11 and it was just as busy as the previous night. He soon started to talk to a few women while I sat back and waited for him to fuck up and move in for the kill. It didn't take long. Her name was Corrine. She was a very pretty blonde of about 5'2" with a great ass and perfect tits. We had been eye-fucking each other the whole time Tim had been talking to her. We shared the typical conversation and were having sex 3 hours later. The thing about women on the road is that you can never get a good feel for what they're like in bed without actually sleeping with them. You simply don't have enough time to feel them out before you're in bed with them. It's just the nature of the game. Fortunately, Corrine was a bottle rocket. She told me as I was going down on her that if I could make her come that she would let me do whatever I wanted. I slowed my motion and after a few minutes she came very hard. Suffice to say, she stayed true to her word.

Corrine left the hotel around 8 in the morning after some suttle persuasion on my part for her to leave. Sometimes, I've found, its as hard getting them to leave as it is to get them to stay. Someone much wiser than myself once said, "you don't pay a prostitute to fuck you, you pay her to leave." I got up a couple hours later and went back to the bar to watch my Cowboys beat the Bengals. Another call from dispatch revealed we would be stuck in Rockford until at least Monday. For those of you that have never been to Rockford, the best thing to do when you get there is to get the fuck out. This town sucks. I was still feeling the shots from Saturday night so instead of spending a lot of energy on a new endeavor, I called Corrine. She showed up 45 minutes later.