My Attempt to Join the Mile High Club On the Journey to the Mile High City

“What do you think you’re doing? Take that jacket off or I’m calling airport security! You were performing sexual acts on this plane!”

“We were just making out!” exclaimed Alex. “We didn’t have sex at all.”

“That’s it! Go back to your own seat, young lady. Airport security will be notified immediately.”
I definitely didn’t expect to be sharing a trench coat with some random guy being threaten to be kicked off of a plane when I’d missed my flight earlier that day. I was just trying to get back home, to Denver where my boyfriend, Tommy, was going to pick me up.

But when I got on my second flight, the 1 from Charlotte to Denver, a guy named Alex recognized me.

Here’s how it happened:

“You were on my last flight!” exclaimed a British hipster from across the aisle. I gave him a once over but didn’t recognize those boot cut jeans hugging his lanky legs or that shaggy hair tucked into that red beanie. But he was pretty cute.


“Yeah, I thought we locked eyes while I was at the bar in JFK.”

I’d actually been focused on my salad and iPhone in JFK. I’d just missed my flight from JFK to Charlotte and wasn’t pleased. I was supposed to go out with my roommate, Kaylah, and my boyfriend, Tommy when I got to Denver. But now I’d be landing too late.

“Did you miss your flight too? I was just at a bar in Charlotte and I met like 5 people who missed their flights- all individually. What is wrong with American Airlines?”

“Yeah, but I only missed it because they wouldn’t let me check my bags after 40 minutes and the traffic getting to the airport was a nightmare!”

“I had the same problem with bag check. I didn’t even want to check my bag.” To be fair my backpack was enormous but I heard a rumor that it was acceptable to carry on and I was hoping to avoid the $25 checking fee.

“I’m actually glad I missed my flight. I’ve been having a great time! I met a pirate who told me about this website, where you can volunteer or work on boats so now I can learn to sail!”

“I don’t think he was really a pirate,” the Brit said.

“Well he wasn’t. His grandpa was. But he really did go on a treasure hunt for weed with his dad.

And he also went to rescue his dad in Mexico because his dad didn’t know Spanish only to find him hanging with a bunch of hookers.”

“Well I’m from a pirate town.” He was exuding his inner happy chihuahua trying to prove his grandness. I decided to change the subject.

“So do you live in Denver or New York?”

“In Brooklyn. Come sit here!” He said suggesting that I sit in the empty middle seat beside him. I hesitated but was happy with my decision upon down. The seat had tons of leg room! I flung my legs up in the air, thankful for the new sense of freedom.

“Cool, where in Brooklyn? I grew up in New York and lived in the city for school.”

“Williamsburg off the Bedford stop. Where did you go to school? I went to the New School for film.”

“Oh nice! Most of my friends from the city went to the New School.” It turned out that he didn’t know them though because my friends went for undergrad and he went for graduate school.

After at least an hour we exchanged names. His was Alex Johnson. He told me a story about a girl that he met only 1 time who remembered his full name and was able to find him on Facebook.

“That’s sort of creepy,” I said. He didn’t think so.

When the flight attendant appeared, Alex bought me a vodka soda and himself a whiskey ginger. The flight attendant was a blobby, blonde lady with a bob. I heard that being a flight attendant was a blast but why did they always look so bitter?

She left and we continued our conversation. He told me about his travels as a film director and how passionate he was about his industry. He was lucky to create a career for himself that provided him with such creative freedom.

He whined about how his neighborhood had transformed into hipsterville. I took a couple of jabs at this statement as he looked like he fit right in.

I shivered and Alex took advantage of the opportunity by throwing his trenchcoat over our laps. He started rubbing my crotch through my leggings. He leaned his head in towards and brushed his lips up against mine. I resisted but after a couple of compliments, comments about his sexual fantasies, and some nice teasing, I succumbed to a mini make out session before becoming self conscious and retreating. I began over-the-pants (but under his coat) rubbing his penis. He was tall but it felt pretty small. Hopefully he wasn’t fully hard. Was this really happening? Joining the mile high club on the way to the mile high city would be amazing. I couldn’t think of anywhere on the plane to have sex though.

I told him how I my boyfriend was going to pick me up at the airport and how I felt sort of bad for doing this but we were in an open relationship so technically it was ok. He said that his “sort of girlfriend” was coming to pick him up and he was coming to Denver to visit her. He’d be staying at her place.

“We’re both terrible,” I said. Alex suggested that we go to the back of the plane where there were empty seats. “Those seats are empty because they use them in case of an emergency,” I explained. After some persuasion of over the pants fingering I agreed.

My legs were wrapped around his waist and my chest rested against his. Our tongues were dancing.

“What are you doing?! Get back to your seats!”

I sat back in my original seat. “Come back next to me,” said Alex.

“I think I should stay here,” I said. We talked for a while longer and when everything seemed ok, I moved back next to him. Pretty soon he tried the jacket move again.

And that’s when airport security was called. I was scared we were going to be banned from American Airlines or put on the sexual offenders list.

“European Airlines would never do this. America is s prude. We were just making out,” whined Alex.

“I think these flight attendants are definitely sex deprived. You should have tried it with them,” I laughed.

“We weren’t having sex! Although I wish we had been,” said Alex. “Are you going to be in Denver for a while?” Asked Alex. “We should meet up.”

“I’m not sure. I’m moving to the mountains but I might hang out for a little while.” We never exchanged numbers.

When we landed, a woman was waiting at the gate to lecture us. I hoped it wouldn’t take long because Tommy, my boyfriend, was waiting for me. She spoke to us like she was our mother. It was pretty embarrassing. At least it was fast and we didn’t get in any real trouble. When we got to luggage pickup, Alex’s “sort of girlfriend” was waiting for him. I tried to pretend that I didn’t know who he was. Tommy was waiting in the car and picked me up as soon as I got my bag.

A couple of days later I friended Alex on Facebook. I don’t know why. I was already living in the mountains.


One thought on “My Attempt to Join the Mile High Club On the Journey to the Mile High City

  1. Whenever I take a flight I always leave the impression I find the one or two male flight attendants cute. It’s a small exercise that usually earns me an extra bag of complimentary peanuts.
    Okay, I never had sex more than 100 meters above sea level, but I do understand Emirates has shower cabins in their jets these days. You may wanna check that out. I know I do:)
    Just shared this one on my FB page. It was incredibly funny…and yes, I would expect European flight attendants to be more liberal when it comes to their clients having sex on their planes. Perhaps they could even resort to handing out condoms at boarding, instead of newspapers.


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