Pilots

Paper mosaic of an airline cabin

I have a little thing for men in uniform - it's largely why I enjoy my layovers in Frankfurt, because the boys in green are such a pleasant pick-me-up. Spotting one is good; seeing them in droves is better. (It actually wasn't until those German boys that I realized I even had a thing for uniforms at all.) Still, as uniform-fetish neophytes are, I'm picky about what kind of men in what type of uniform. Pilots and bookish doctors in lab coats, hot. Donut-munchin' power-tripping rent-a-cops, not so much. Men in camo, studs and duds alike, don't really do it for me. There are a myriad of reasons for loving those dress blues on a guy, and most don't require explanation. *wink*

So anyway - a few days ago, through the wondrous magic of a popular social networking site, I reconnected with my first crush (let's call him K), and found out he's a pilot. Saw a picture of him, in his uniform, standing proudly next to a Learjet. 10 years ago, I would've melted into a puddle of mush. I waited to become smitten all over again, but nothing happened. If it was possible, he became less attractive. (Oh, the follies of youth...)

Yesterday, we went to a party themed "Snakes on a Plane". (Woot!) Leis for guests, costumes encouraged. I was an air stewardess, complete with black stockings and scarf, and - funny coincidence - E was a pilot. I told E about K and his flying career, and didn't get much of a reaction, as he taped black paper epaulets on his white dress shirt. Who knew... E made a really hot pilot. If I had to choose between E and K, purely on looks, I'd pick E a million times over (though I won't trust him in a cockpit).


With the cap'n, and with Jim

The party was kickin'; I got groped and licked, though what really took the cake was getting hit on by a 20 yr old. (Poor fella!) Girls were eyeing my pilot, and he got his butt grabbed a couple of times. I threw in the towel at 2.30am, and E didn't come home till 5am. (We spent most of today recovering.)

So, I guess the clothes do make a man. Or not? One's just a costume, one's worn everyday to work, but they transform the man who dons it to different degrees, in opposite ways from what I'd imagine. Does that even make sense? I don't know.

Captain's back to being a dorky student again as he scrambles to prepare for his semesterly evaluation on Monday for his doctorate. No more parties to look forward to for a little while...