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The Prophet 2.16

Tex would have run off the plane had the other passengers not been in his way. He wanted to put as much distance between himself and his alleged ex-boyfriend as possible. Brig was in no hurry to get off the plane himself. Just as the gate attendant in Salt Lake City had promised, he had plenty of time to make his connecting flight to Hong Kong. In fact, he had more than enough time to get an alcohol-fueled buzz started in United’s business class lounge. He made his way through the SFO domestic terminal, grading the women in his head as he went. Seven. Five. Yikes! Minus two, or is that a dude?

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Brig found a flight departure screen to make sure that his flight was still leaving on time and out of the same gate. He had to pass through security again and did so without incident. He took an escalator up to the United lounge where two young women sat behind a large desk. “Good morning. May I help you, sir?”

“I think you most certainly can,” answered Brig. Brig awarded both women a respectable seven while noticing that the name tag of the girl that was helping him said Britney. “Which way to the alcohol?”

She laughed politely as the other girl glanced up. “If I could just see your boarding pass…” Brig sensed that Britney didn’t think he belonged in United’s “executive lounge.”

“Of course. We wouldn’t want any lower class passengers or other bad elements to get into our lounge, would we?” he smiled. Brig handed Britney his ticket. As she examined his documents, Brig took the opportunity to examine her colleague who was writing something down. Blonde. Big Boobs. Perhaps a seven was too conservative.

“Here you are, Mr. Young.” It surprised Britney to learn that the rough looking man in front of her was a Platinum Elite member of the United frequent flyer program. Over the last few years, Brig had racked up a lot of frequent flyer miles. “And here are two vouchers for free drinks at the bar, which you’ll find right down this way,” she said, motioning to her right.

He thanked the girl and made his way to the bar where he ordered two jack and cokes, grabbed several bags of pretzels, and found a comfortable seat near enough to the bar and out of the general traffic. It was blissfully quiet and uncrowded. He hoped his flight would be the same.

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It was still morning, but he gulped the first drink down as if it were the first round of happy hour. Breakfast of Champions Brig thought to himself and opened a bag of pretzels. He scanned the lounge for talent. To his left was an older couple, the man reading a newspaper, the woman thumbing through a magazine, and far too old to register on Brig’s scale. A group of four men huddled together near a flat screen television. Several other people sat by themselves, tapping on computers or talking on their cell phones. Just as Brig was about to give up, a tall Asian woman strode through the entrance of the lounge. He was raising his second J&C to his mouth but stopped the cup halfway to its destination.

Hold the phone. What’s this? Could it be? the superficial voice inside his head started the calculations. “Could it be? It is! It’s a ten!” Brig whispered reverently, as if a miracle had just walked into the lounge. In truth, Brig awarded scores of ten every day, but as Brig got a closer view of, or spoke to a ten, a skin blemish, an annoying laugh, a bitchy tone, a nervous twitch…something would inevitably lower the score. Such was the case with the latest ten. As the woman walked towards Brig, her hips got bigger, her chest smaller, and she had a slight skin problem on her right cheek. Acne?

Sorry folks, I spoke too soon. She’s a nine. My bad, Brig announced to the audience inside his head. A nine was still good…very good. He kept his eyes on her face as she walked toward him. He was sure she would look his way, and he would meet her stare, smile, and flirt. She was Asian, and maybe she was going to Hong Kong. His hopes of enjoying the mile high club rekindled.

A man behind Brig yelled out, “Angie!” The woman paused, recognized the man yelling her name, smiled and waved.

An eight, and dropping fast. Come on girl. You can still turn this around.

She walked past Brig without a glance.

You lose! Final score: six. It looks like I’m going to need to drink a lot more, and she’s going to have to beg for it before I crawl into an airplane bathroom at 30,000 feet and bump uglies with that tramp!

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