Airport Pick-Ups

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I just read David Wygant’s latest blog post about Air Port Pickups.  Unfortunately, its not about what I thought it might be about.  Check it…

David Wygant writes:

When I Say "Pick Up A Girl At The Airport," I Really Mean It!!!

So you’ve started dating somebody. Things are going really great. You haven’t slept with them yet, and they’re about to go away for a weekend trip. Do you or do you not let them take a taxicab? Do you drive them to the airport and, more importantly, do you pick them up when they get back from their trip? And what exactly does that signify in the relationship?

First off, I hate picking people up at the airport. I’ll tell you something, picking people up at LAX is a nightmare. They don’t allow you to park. Secondly, you don’t want to circle around waiting to pick someone up because LAX is a long track where traffic can get as bad as it is on the 405, and you can sit in your car at the airport for two hours, driving 1/8 of a mile.

But the fact of the matter is, when you pick somebody up at the airport, that’s relationship material. You do that when you’re in love. You don’t do that when you first start dating. That’s crazy.

“Yeah, I took her out on three dates, we haven’t slept together yet, but I’m picking her up at the airport.” Really? Why? I mean, you’re basically picking her up at the airport and driving her home, bringing her bags in and then she’s going, “Alright, thank you. We’re not sleeping together so you’re not staying here.”

So she’ll give you a glass of water and then find a way to get you to leave. The only way you ever pick somebody up at the airport is if you know you’re going to have massive crazy sex afterwards because you’ve missed each other. That makes it fun. That’s a blast.

I love pick-up sex. One of my favorite things in the entire world — airport pick-up sex after a trip out of town. It’s great. You pick her up, she’s all excited to see you after a few days, you play with her, fondle her a little bit on the way home, you get her all excited, you schlep her way-too-heavy bags (I mean, who needs that much stuff for a weekend trip?) into her place. Then you have amazing sex.

But if you pick her up from the airport and you’re not already sleeping together, you’re immediately in the friend zone. So unless you desire to be in that friend zone, I strongly suggest you wait to pick her up from the airport until you guys are intimate and committed.

So here I thought we’d get an interesting guide on how to actually Pick-Up Women at the airport, but this is actually a rant on dropping off and (literally) picking up women at the airport.  And I can’t say I agree with David on his points here.  I mean, I’ve picked up a lot of people from the airport that I wasn’t sleeping with, just because its a nice thing to do if you know the person and they need help (or are trying to save a few bucks).  Plus, if you’re alone in a car with a girl you like for however long it takes for you to drive them to and from the airport, that’s some nice quality time you can use to chat them up and stuff.  I mean, there is a fine line here between using it as a pick up opportunity and being used just for your transportation.  I guess it all comes down to whether or not you actually WANT to help someone out by picking them up at the airport.

But, let’s get away from that and talk about what I really thought David’s blog post should be about… picking up chicks at the airport while YOU’RE traveling. Read more

FR: An Airport Pick-Up

**Reposted from the first Lair, original date: 12/20/03
**Image removed

Okay, now that I’ve got the airport rant off my chest, its time to get to the good stuff. The stuff that most of you reading this are probably here for in the first place.

Its a been a while since I’ve posted a Field Report, and there is a good reason for that. Since late October, my health has been fucked. At first I had a sinus cold, and that mutated into the Flu. So I missed a bunch of work, and on top of that, my stupid ass goes to Vegas for Thanksgiving weekend and ends up spending a shitload of money partaking in every debauchery known to man and a good 6 of the 7 deadly sins, which means to top things off, I’m quite broke. All this leads to many a lonely night at home alone trying to kill the pain with nyquil while masturbating to internet porn.

Well, I’m happy to say my health is improving. The flu I got is almost all gone (still cough a bit) and I’ve been able to get enough money this month to make rent, but not much more than that. So I haven’t been able to go out much because my health/wealth game has been in the proverbial shitter for almost two months now.

Which brings me to yesterday. Yesterday, I was at the airport, and its been my experience that an airport is an EXCELLENT place to sarge. I’ve been able to # close a great many hot chicks at airports. Of course, lots of them don’t lead anywhere for various reasons, but for the most part, while girls are traveling, they are usually more adventurous because they are in a place where they aren’t going to be socially judged by people they know for their actions. Not only that, but the boredom of airport life is so great, that most people are looking for any distraction to pass the time. In fact, some of my easiest walk-ups ever have been in airports.

That said, I don’t go to airports looking to PU. I go there to travel. PU is just a nice side-effect of doing so. I don’t want to hear stories about guys going to the airport on Friday night to pick-up chicks, kapeesh?

Anyway, there I am, talking to soldier dude, when this girl comes walking by. She’s a tiny thing, very petite body, small breasts, and tight ass — just the way I like ‘em. She’s cute, but not drop-dead gorgeous. She’d probably rate a 7 on the looks scale, but on the 1-0 scale (1 being “good enough” and 0 being “not good enough”) I’d have to say she’s definitely “good enough.” That’s her pic on the top of the page to give you an idea of what she looks like.

But she’s lugging around this huge, zebra striped backpack that’s broken up with black screens. Upon closer inspection, I can see she’s got a little puppydog in there that she’s traveling with. Now, I’m a sucker for dogs, so I can’t help staring at it. She notices me doing so, and I open her with:

“What do you do if the dog has to take a shit?”

How’s that for masterful? Eat your heart out Style. Anyway, she laughs and says the dog went before they came, and he’s also doped up on doggie-valum, so he’ll be quiet during the trip. Now, I find the very idea of valume for dogs fascinating, so I start talking to her about other animals she may have doped up. She laughs and we have a good conversation. I keep disinterested because in all honesty, I was more interested in the dog than the girl (not in that respect you pervs!).

So I get on the plane and settle in, and who should sit down next to me? Bitch girl — er, I mean, girl with the dog. She says “It looks like you can’t escape us.” I tell her it must either be karma or she’s stalking me. She laughs and settles her dog in under her seat before sitting down.

Right away she makes herself comfortable by taking off her shoes and putting her legs on the seat. I tell her its gonna be a long flight with her stinky feet in my face. She laughs. then we talk about her dog until take-off. The dog is named Copenhagen after the town in Germany for some reason, but she calls him “Koop.” He’s a mixed breed mutt she rescued from a homeless lady and has since become her child. She says they are very co-dependent on each other and it shows in the way she dotes over this animal. I find it a bit endearing, but its also a huge sign of insecurity, so I start testing the waters a bit.

It turns out she’s an actress, and has actually been on a few shows I’ve seen. The latest was The Brotherhood of Poland New Hampshire. So we talk about acting and shit for a bit. I love the fact that she’s an actress, because it means she’s a validation whore (and REALLY insecure), so I can be pretty evil with her and get away with it. In fact, I tell her “Wow, you’re really insecure. I’m gonna have a lot of fun with you.”

She plays along. I just keep being really cocky. I accuse her of being a primadonna. I tell her shit like she makes J-Lo look like Mother Theresa with her unreasonable demands. She starts trying to fight back with lame lines like “Oh, yeah. And you’re so cool.” To which I reply “Thanks for noticing.”

At the same time I’m doing this, I’m also validating her by doing little shit, like sharing my gummy-fish I picked up at the airport with her when she says she’s hungry. I also give her some of my nasty airline food. She acted like it was a big deal that I was giving up part of my meal for her, but I just couldn’t stomach the nasty shit, so the situation was win-win.

Anyway, this goes on for 5 hours with me teasing the shit out of her. We end up sleeping together on the flight (not sexing it up, mind you. We slept and we were next to each other). I babysit her dog when she goes to the bathroom, so she’s all impressed when she comes back and finds me caring for it. I tell her she sleeps like her dog and I thought I was taking care of her. But the coup-de-grace was when a baby across the isle from us shit its pants and I blamed the smell on her. Priceless.

So the plane lands and I’m helping her to strap this dog on her shoulders. Its funny, because at 6’1, I tower over this itty-bitty girl. We start walking together to the gate, and I say we should hang out when we both get back to LA. She says she’d love to and gives me her number before we split up and greet our prospective family members.

So that’s it. A solid number close. Nothing special, but still, it was fun and the girl was easy to talk to and cute. At the very least, I’ve expanded my social circle and made a cool new friend. At best, I get a fuck buddy out of it. Regardless, I enjoyed her company a great deal and look forward to hanging out with her again.

And that’s why they call me…

Thundercat

Fuck Bin Ladin

**Reposted from the first Lair, original date: 12/20/03

Fuck Bin Ladin.  Fuck him up his stupid ass.

He is the reason why my day was so terrible.  I swear to God.

So I head off to the airport two hours early to catch my flight to Washington DC which departs at 1:10 pm for two weeks of family torture — er, I mean, FUN!  I figure two hours would be plenty of time for me to check in and get a bite to eat before the five hour trek across the country at 20,000 feet.  And I was right, two hours was enough time… BARELY!

I got to LAX and the place was fuckin’ PACKED!  I’m talking filled to the brim with people here.  Imagine what it would be like if John and George were resurrected and the Beatles were throwing a reunion concert, and you’ll get an idea of how crowded this fucking place was.

So I muddle through the sea of people and get to the United terminal to check in.  They’ve got something like 50 terminals open, and all of them are backed up.  The thing is, they’ve substituted the old fashioned check-in for the new automated “self check-in” process so they could speed up the time it takes to get people to the terminal.  Now, I’ve used the self check-in before, and its quite painless.  But you’d think they were asking most people to perform triple by-pass surgery on the Pope to get them to use these things.

So I wait in line to check in, and this old guy in front of me is getting all flustered at the terminal because it seems he is unable to grasp the technology of “sliding your credit card.”  He has to hail down a United rep to walk him through a process designed for kindergartners.  Then, a bunch of acne-ridden teenie boppers start cutting in line and pissing people off.  On top of that, you got a couple yahoos checking in baggage and blocking the terminals, which just backs the line up even further and pisses more people off.

So I get checked in, and they send me to this security checkpoint to drop off my bag so it can be searched before it gets on the plane.  I’m standing in this line for 40 MINUTES!  Not only that, but I’m sandwitched between the annoying teenie boppers and a guy with three of the skankiest girls I’ve ever seen in my life hanging off him (I wanted to introduce them to the word “shower,” but I felt I might be overstepping my bounds).  Therefore, I continue to wait, watching the OTHER security checkpoint line move through at warp speed as I’m stuck grinding my teeth to the nub.  Then I get up to the head of the line.  A guard comes up to me and looks at my bag.  “Is that it?” he asks.  “Yep.” I reply.  “Move along,” he says.  So I’m off to the next checkpoint.  Mind you, this took TWO SECONDS.  I began to wonder how many bombs the people in front of me were carrying for our line to take 40 FUCKING MINUTES to get through.

So I’m waved to the next security checkpoint and wait in another line.  Only this isn’t the line for the next security checkpoint.  Its the line to GET to the line for the next security checkpoint.  I pass that and go to the REAL line which is where they x-ray your bags and you go through a metal detector.  I’m stuck in this thing and amuse myself by looking at any HB I can find to pass the time (I didn’t see many, and the ones I did were too far away to sarge).  So I finally get to the X-Ray and pass the metal detector, making my way into the terminal.

By this point, I have a half hour before my flight leaves.  I’m hungry as hell because I didn’t have time to eat that morning, so I wanted to go to Wolfgang Puck’s to have a nice meal before I’m subjected to what passes for airline food these days, only there is no time, so I opt for McDonalds.  Of course, this ends up being bizzaro McDonalds because its neither cheap NOR fast.  I end up waiting 15 minutes for a Big Mac that cost me $10.

So I head to my gate with the most expensive Big Mac on the planet and start scarfing my food down.  I strike up a conversation with a guy next to me as I do so.  He’s wearing full army dessert fatigues, so I ask him where he’s headed.  He says he’s on his way to Iraq.  It turns out this dude has been on 2 weeks leave and was in the war from the beginning.  He was there when the troops invaded from Kuait, he was there when they took Bagdad, and he was there when they fought ambushes at Tekrit.  Suddenly, this guy who can’t be a year or two older than me is telling me more war stories than my grandfather, and I can’t help but be in awe and scared at the same time.

Now, I’ll be the first to admit I’m a lover, not a fighter.  I don’t want to fight anybody and I certainly never want to have to take another human life.  But I look at guys like the dude I was talking to at the gate, and I am so proud to live in a country where there are men who are brave enough to step up to the plate and fight with the very real possibility of dying to protect pussies like me.  I’ve got friends over in Iraq, and I’m afraid they may not come back.  I have friends who are going to be GOING to Iraq, and I’m afraid for them as well.  But I am so thankful this country has guys like them, because its their sacrifice that allows me to go out and try and pick-up chicks every night.  So I look at this army guy who looks to be around my age but carries the weight of his experience around with him like he were 100 years old, and I ask myself what kind of a world we live in when guys my age are war veterans, it takes 2 hours to get through and airport, and Big Macs cost $10?

All I can say is that I blame it on Bin Ladin.

If what they say is true and there is a paradise with 70 virgins waiting for the next guy to blow up his shoe to arrive, I hope to one day do my part and use my skills to sarge every last one of those chicks, so Habeeb McBoom-Boom gets nothing but sloppy seconds when he shows up.  And if there really is an Allah, he’ll give all the girls genital warts.  And if he’s a REALLY just God, he’ll make them slightly overweight and brain damaged to boot.  That way, the next camel-fucker who pulls a bomb out of his ass can really get what’s coming to him.

/end rant

Thundercat