I mentioned yesterday that Lady Wonder Wench was a skier before I met her. In today’s podcast, there’s a true story about how she used to go skiing with a friend of hers by the name of Rose, and some guy named Bill. Evidently Rose never brought a guy with her, because she enjoyed trolling for ski instructors, and according to Ms. Wench Rose was usually quite successful, since she looked like some combination of Catherine Zeta Jones and Carmen Electra. Ms. Wench, who had not yet met me, and had therefore not fallen in true love/lust so she was in the early stages of some cheap bodily attraction to Bill. But Bill was either too testosterone challenged, or too stupid to notice, which did not do wonders for LWW’s ego. That led me to develop a satisfying fantasy about LWW and a ski lodge, in which I land a plane in the parking lot of the fancy ski lodge…the kind were the rooms cost about the same as access to the typical state Senator for a year, and the lobsters served at dinner are about the size of an SUV. The airplane’s engine gets the attention of everybody inside. Bill opens the door and a crowd gathers behind him. They watch as I step down from the cockpit, dressed in my white silk scarf, my goggles, my black leather jacket, my freshly pressed Dockers, and my up to the fanny soft brown leather riding boots. Remember, this is my fantasy, so I’m looking here borderline like Harrison Ford. I flip up my goggles, push the two ends of the white silk scarf into the pockets of my black leather jacket, and I stride across the lot. I walk right past Bill at the door. The crowd is silent. Then I spot Lady Wonder Wench sitting alone in a corner. I walk over to her slowly, right past Rose, who looks up adoringly…expectantly. I hold out my hand to Lady Wonder Wench who stands up gracefully and looks at me in amazement. (I’ve just ignored Rose, remember.) Rose’s lips are quivering, and a tear wells up in her eye. She half reaches out her hand toward me, but I ignore her, and I guide Lady Wonder Wench to the door, right past Bill, and out into the parking lot to the waiting airplane. I help Lady Wonder Wench up into the cockpit, buckle her seat belt, close and latch the door, and the engine starts with one turn of the prop. We power up, and roar straight up into the full moon. When we pass 5,200 feet (one mile) I engage the auto pilot. And I leave the rest of my fantasy to your imagination. Eat your heart out Bill. And keep your hands to yourself.
Ah, yes! It WOULD be the mile high club, of course!!!!
Yes.