The crew is heading to the layover hotel in Los Angeles. It’s five guys, two girls, and me. I’m not the only straight one; one of the older guys is straight as well. We were on the plane for six hours together and on this van for half an hour and he still hasn’t introduced himself to me. He’s one of those macho guys who’s been the King Cock for many years. He’s used to being the only straight male and prefers it that way.
I could tell that he was sizing me up when a few of us were talking in a group earlier. First he was scanning for gayness, giving him the opportunity to accuse me of being a closet case. It wasn’t there so he held his tongue. When we were checking in I was standing right by him and kept looking at him until he acknowledged my presence. He’s much bigger than I am. He’s older, but works out and it shows, just as it shows that I don’t work out but do have a trim semi fit body. He has that cheesy ass buzz cut that looked tough years ago, when he was in his prime. He found a look that worked for him and by God, he’s going to stick with it until the day he dies!
Finally he looks at me and says something. He asks how I’m doing and calls me Sport, just a little bit nicer than Boss. I catch the condescending tone. It’s not wasted on me. The only attractive female on the crew asks me to re-pin her wings to her jacket. I do and she makes a joke about me feeling her up in the process. Everyone laughs and I say something clever in response. Everyone laughs again. Everyone, but the straight man who I now decided looks like the asshole jock in Encino Man. He says something about how that’s cool that I touched her tit, but he’s touched her taco. He actually used the word “taco”. I realized then that this guy was even more of a joke than I had anticipated.
Usually there is some sort of camaraderie between the straight flight attendants, even if they’re competing for the girls. There are enough potential mates to go around and you win some, you lose some, so why fight with each other? Most guys think that way, not just straight stews. Not this time. I’ve never in four years of flying been seen like this. (written in 2002)
The old rooster is seeing me as someone who might replace him, though I don’t even want to be thought of like that. I could not care less. There are plenty of girls in this world to go around and most certainly enough in the confines of our job where boys are already in the minority and most of the boys like burritos and not taco.
Though he hates the attention he gets from the gay flight attendants, he’s a little jealous that now I’m the one they’re saying inappropriate things to. I handle the comments with just the right amount of humor and masculinity. I know how to take the comments, decline any notion of whatever, and still have the gay boys respect me and enjoy having me around. After a trip of them flirting with me and me not freaking out about it, they’re chill and appreciate me being around. Then they think I’m a really cool person and start to think of possible females they could hook me up with. I know this other guy complains about getting hit on by the boys, but it’s just as obvious he misses it tonight.
On the van ride over to the hotel I got a couple of calls and the boys made comments about me being Mr. Popularity, Mr. Ladies Man and all that. Everyone laughed and made their comments. He just glared out the window in silence. Since only one girl came to the hotel tonight and since she’s cute, I just know she’s the target tonight. She’s the prize we’re fighting for, though only one of us is in this competition. I know her, I’ve flown with her before and I wouldn’t even think about hooking up with her. I’m not sure why, she’s hot and has a great personality. She’s also hilarious. I’m single and in the mood to go out and have fun so I’m not sure why I’m not interested. Doesn’t matter, if I’m not feeling it then I’m not feeling it. I’m not usually looking to hook up anyways, I just want to hang out and have some drinks with my friends. He’s going to make her the challenge though.
We’re all supposed to meet up in her room in ten minutes. I bet he’s dressed to the nines. I guarantee he’ll be wearing Cool Water. I could not care any less. I’m going to go in and have my drink and be social. I’ll have another one and hang out. I have my Hydrocodone just in case. Another girl I am interested in is coming in to the hotel tomorrow at around noon. I’m looking forward to that the way the stud is looking forward to tonight’s competition. He’s going to be well-groomed and his hair will be flawless. He’s going to be wearing something that shows off his muscles. He could kick my ass in two seconds and he’s the sort of guy that gets off on that fact. He can always fall back on that and feel good about it.
Everyone is meeting up just about now. I’m going to take my time, make a phone call or two, and come in fashionably late. Just when he thinks that I chickened out of the debriefing in the girl’s room, I’ll come in and everyone will be glad to see me. They’ll have a couple of drinks in them so their reaction will be slightly more excited and welcoming. I’m not going to be dressed up. I’ll be very casual. I don’t even carry around nice clothes with me in my suitcase, just jeans and a couple t-shirts. It kills guys like that when a girl chooses a scrawny, slacker, artsy kid who looks like he just rolled out of bed rather than a well-groomed, fit, older, stylish person who takes great pride in their appearance.
I’ll give myself another ten minutes before I go over and see how this plays out.