Traveling for work is the best. You gotta love it when your boss, or whomever, pays your airfare, hotel and most importantly, your food and beverage.
New Orleans was our venue that particular year. And seriously? They expected us to accomplish something?
Suffice to say, I was drunk for about four days straight. It was such a party that I would wake up every morning feeling HORRIBLE, but I didn't realize until the end it wasn't completely a hangover.... I was also sick, with what was probably Strep Throat. But somehow, this didn't stop me from going out with my friends and indulging on that last night.
Every year, I find a guy to hook up with at these meetings. We go about our usual work business, but when the night ends, we always end up fucking in like 100 positions. The only thing different about this year, was the guy, and the fact that the sex was so much better then the guy I had chosen the previous year.
I spent a few hours fucking him, despite my sickness. I coughed and hacked through it all, and he must've liked what he was getting despite this, because he didn't stop until about 5am. At 5:30, my wake up call came. I had to get to the airport.
I stumbled out of bed, threw my stuff in a suitcase, and ran out the door, leaving hotty in bed, germinating what was sure to be a good case of strep.
On the plane, all I wanted to do was sleep. My seat was the very back seat on the airplane. The one right next to the bathrooms. At least I had the window seat, so I could lean my aching head against it and sleep. Cough Cough.
As people were boarding, I looked up to see a very hot bald man making his way towards the back of the plane. I remember thinking that it would be just my luck... to get the hot guy today. I never get the hot guy. I always get the fat man who takes up a seat and a half, or the teenager drumming on their lap to the beat of whatever was coming out of their ear bud, nervous leg-syndrome and all. I never get the hot guys, so why should it happen today?
Let me tell you why it would happen today. It would happen today because God hates me, and because I had spent the night boozing and fucking and I didn't even bother with a shower. I don't even think I brushed my teeth. I was probably the equivalent of what I didn't want to sit next to me on flights. But nonetheless, hotty continues on down the aisle until he plops down, right next to me. I hated myself at that moment.
Hotty didn't waste any time. Before he was even buckled in, he reaches over, shakes my hand, and says "Allo... my name is Olivier..." in the sexiest French accent ever. Friggen seriously? Cough Cough!
I nervously shake his hand and tell him my name, and he starts chatting with me, as if it were 3pm and we were having tea. He was a member of the Canadian military (I didn't know they had one) and had just spent a couple of days on leave in New Orleans. I was still drunk, positive I was sending off some sort of out-of-whack pheromones, and insecure because I knew my hair was mussed up, and also because I was snotting all over the place. I gave him some stupid apology about being sick, and giggled like a friggen teenager. I don't think I've ever been less cool.
For a reason I will never understand, he started flirting with me. I couldn't muster up one witty thing to say. Nothing. I kept blowing my red nose, and coughing and all I could do was giggle. I couldn't tell you what he was saying, really, because as soon as we took off, my ears had popped and I lost about 75% of my ability to hear. Not that it mattered what he said. He was so hot that he could have told me that zombies existed and I'd have done nothing more than first believe him, and secondly giggle. Uncool; was I.
