Last summer, Mike and his office manager were attending a dental seminar in Scottsdale. I panicked, realizing I could die not knowing a single thing about mandibular radiolucencies or benign salivary tumors and made arrangements to fly down and meet him. Just kidding! I just wanted to get a massage, lay by the pool and not have to sneak into the closet to have sex because there were 2 kids in our bed.
Mike arranged for his office manager’s husband to pick me up from the airport. At baggage claim, Nic chivalrously asked which suitcase was mine, snatched it off the luggage carousel and started laughing. I was momentarily confused until I realized MY SUITCASE WAS BUZZING. OMG. I loudly announced to everybody in the nearby vicinity that “This is NOT what you think! It is my sonicare toothbrush! I swear! My husband is a dentist! REALLY!” What I didn’t realize at the time, was that this particular incident would serve as foreshadowing for another airplane related event a month later…..
Fast forward. Mike and I had spent the weekend in Vegas, we went to some nice restaurants, saw a couple shows, rekindled the flame a few times with some private “poker” and most importantly, PLAYED SLOT MACHINES. A fun fact about Erin: I love to gamble. I love, love, love, love to gamble. I go with twenty-five cent slot machines like Italians go with the mob. I stare at those suckers like I stare at boy horses and Mike always makes it even more fun to gamble because he gives me money and then acts like a T-ball coach, high-fiving me and yelling loudly when we win anything!
Sadly, Sunday morning arrived and Mike and I headed back to the airport. We filed onto the plane and in the window seat of our assigned row, sat an adorable girl, with a HUGE rack, wedged in a tiny tank top, with no bra, cut offs and heels. For the first time in our marital history Mike asked me if I wanted the aisle seat. I shot him a dirty look and sat down, right as the girl said “Howdy! Y’all want some of my corn nuts? They’re ranch flavored!” She popped a couple in her mouth and took a big swig of coke. I liked her instantly. We started making small talk and she informed me that she was flying home after working all week. “What do you do?” I asked her. She giggled and said she “worked at the ranch.” “Oh, you work with horses?” I asked innocently taking a sip of my latte and reaching for my magazine. “Nope, I ride men for a living.” I choked on my coffee. OMG.
Apparently “Sapphire” (*all stage names have been changed to protect real stage names) flies to Vegas one week a month and works at one of those establishments where socially inept men can pay to have sex with attractive women who pretend not be repulsed by their 300 lb. love handles and a surplus supply of back hair. Saf (I decided to call her this for short) told me she just “loves to have sex, so why not get paid for it.” Hallelujah, I love me a woman with common sense. Saf then said that “her HUSBAND is entirely supportive of her career.” I told her she was damn lucky to find a good man like that and she should hang on to him. She nodded in agreement and kept munching on her corn nuts. I glanced over at Mike who pretended to be reading his book but was shaking with laughter.
My brain was on positive overload, I could simply not believe that God would so graciously sit me next to a chatty prostitute. Fascinated, I asked her if she was ever afraid of catching somebody’s booty cooties. She giggled, shook her head and accidentally dropped a corn nut between her giant boobs. Mike watched in fascination, utterly transfixed as she stuck her hand down her shirt and fished around until she found the lone corn nut and stuck it in her mouth. “Nah, they check us every time we come to work and before we leave, besides it’s not like I work with a bunch of hoes.” I carefully reached in my purse, snuck out my hand sanitizer and rubbed it on my exposed arm while making a mental note to google “Chlamydia Arm” when I got home.
When the plane landed, Saf leaned over and asked Mike if he would get her bag from the overhead bin. Mike a little too happily obliged and pulled down a heavy, black canvas bag that made strange clanking sounds and had mysterious objects protruding from the sides. I grinned and asked her if she “seriously just asked my husband to take down her job equipment?” Saf started laughing and said “Girl, you should see me when I go through security. They act like it’s a vibrator bomb.” She then leaned over and gave me a big hug, pointed to my glasses and said “You should totally think about coming to work with me. I am sure there are some guys out there that would love that nerdy housewife/librarian look you have goin’ on.” Thanks Saf, I will definitely consider it. XO