Now before I go off on a rant, and I am accused of being homophobic, uptight or, heaven forbid unenlightened, I declined his pass.
I did it with stoned style and grace, no need in getting ugly because someone, albeit a same sex someone, was attracted to me. In my defense, I was buff, young and alone, and I felt it a little rude to use these things as an excuse to grope my junk just because you turned me on to some weed. (Yeah ladies, a lot like the buy you a drink ploy...you know what I'm talking about.) But, rejection is still what it is, and I guess it made him mad.
He made me walk back to the terminal. (This was not my first rodeo by the way...growing up I was sexually abused a number of times and approached many more. By the time I was ten I had seen more naked old men than Heidi Fleiss. And before I upset some of you more sensitive types...I know there is no parallel between child molesters and gay men, I am not making that comparison, just stating a fact. I stopped being victimized by it a long time ago. To put it succinctly, I got off the cross, used the wood to build a bridge and got over it. Enough said.)
I boarded the commuter flight and hit on the flight attendant extra hard. (Just to be sure)
We landed forty minutes later in the middle of a perfumed moonscape of black lava fields.
A really big ass ocean on one side (for those of you in Texas, you know that this is actually a standard unit of measurement,) and grand, green and lush mountains on the other. Paradise.
I hailed a cab, and history, as it is want to do, repeated itself, one more time...
