Getting Buzzed at the Airport

I used to have a job that required me to travel quite a bit, and I was used to the drill of airport security (I had never been required to have my luggage checked by security. This would change on one fateful day, much to the embarrassment of the cute security guy…

I had already taken off my belt and shoes (they were steel-toed Docs) and was waiting to get through the plastic arch that was my signal for freedom and food (some smokes and a beer), when, of course, I get picked for a random security check.

The dark haired guy pulled me aside, after walking through the arch (the nicotine would have to wait…), and led me to a side table. He did the wand check, a quick pat-down (was that a lingering pat?...), and busted open my only bag, a carry-on.

His white gloved hands deftly sifted through my clothes, and he spotted some magazines from the gay hot spots (bar mags), which he put aside without batting an eyelash, not before looking at me with a slight smile.

I gave him a smile as he reached my toiletries bag. He took it out of my carry-on and plopped it on the table…

It immediately began buzzing and vibrating, reminiscent of the “neck massagers” that you can purchase in select stores. He looked at the bag, then looked at me to gauge my “embarrassment” at being caught with a vibrator. I knew what he was thinking, so I smiled a big smile of conspiracy.

He immediately reddens from my forwardness in a public place, as I reached for my bag, containing my still buzzing friend. I opened the bag, to save him from further blushing.

And pulled out my battery powered toothbrush, which I switched off with a grin, and returned to the bag. I then looked at him and said, “Amazing how the mind can jump to a conclusion by limited information, huh?”

He flushed about ten shades darker as he hastily re-packed my bag and rushed me through security. I chuckled as I put on my shoes.

As I stood up, he stuttered an apology.

“Hey don’t worry about it…I can appreciate a mind like yours. I would have thought the same thing, only I would have flirted a little more…”

Knowing I had the last word, I grabbed the handle of my carry-on and wheeled myself to the lounge for freedom and dinner (smokes and beer).

Gotta love air travel,

deutschmarc