Ma Kettle was the penultimate passenger to sit down, and she choose the middle seat next to me. She's now playing Sudoku while Curl-Up-And-Hide Chick by the window, who needed reminding to turn off her phone, keeps going to the bathroom and ringing the call bell.
The ultimate passenger to sit down was Hott Chick. Here she is eating some sweet nuts.
Earlier, she had to fetch something from under the seat, and she treated everyone to a view of the Grand Canyon. I assume she plans to be a plumber when she grows up.
Right now, she's chatting up Baby Face Boy. He can't get his eyes above the substantial cleavage she's slinging over there in that tanktop.
Yet, his hands stay deep in his lap.
She is also, apparantly, chilled. Very chilled. She could put an eye out with those things.
Meanwhile, I'm waiting for my lunch, and since Hott Chick has the available sausage taken, I am settling for liquid salad, slightly sweetened.
Will it ever get here?
Finally! Here it is.
Pardon, but I have my duty before me.
Notice the delicate stages of preparation.
And one dead warrior fallen on the Southwest Plain.
The second warrior hits the Southwest Plain in the line of sacred duty.
While Hott Chick lures Baby Face Boy in for a titular snuggle.
She prowls with wanton disregard for the concentration of Reader Man beside her.
Time for a nap. So sweet.
And y'all though the gay guys could get down to business fast.
Whoa! Someone has shat on this plane! SMOG! My nose is in rebellion. Where is that sinus infection when I need it?
Final descent has begun. Will Baby Face Boy get any further?
I really doubt it. The tit slinger is probably drooling onto his pec about now. My head would look much better nestled on that blankie.
Wide awake and exchanging contact info.
Wonder if he would like my number too. I hesitate to ask.
That boy's got it bad!
Upon landing, I scooted to the rear.
Heavy liquid foundation in progress.
He found her hat.
Reader Man and I concur that she's a cougar in training.
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