Thanks, Gay Mafia

Last night's flight from IAD to SFO was delayed in the terminal for thirty minutes, then on the tarmac for sixty more and then in the sky for another forty-five because of the weather in San Francisco (we circled over Utah twice) but it was still one of the better airplane experiences I've ever had.

First, there was nobody in the seat next to me but in the seat next to that one was a handsome older gay man named Paul with whom I gabbed about books, travel and life in San Francisco for the first hour of the trip.

Then I ordered a glass of red wine from the touchscreen in front of me and instead of delivering crappy stuff in a tiny plastic cup, one of two hot older male flight attendants brought me wine in a glass made of actual glass and said, "I thought you might like to try what they're drinking up in first."

A little while later the other hot older gentleman, who looked sort of like a slightly younger version of Sir Ian McKellen, came to my seat and asked, "Would you like a cookie? I have one left from first class. It's still warm."

Shortly after that I got up to pee and both daddies were standing in the back of the plane chatting. I thanked them for the wine and the cookie and we started talking and didn't stop for an hour. They told me crazy stories about the things they'd done and seen in their long careers as flight attendants, most of which I can't share here except to say that you can get away with a whole lot of risqué shit on an airplane if you're so motivated.

We finally landed at SFO almost three hours after we were supposed to and the weather made the final descent one of the dicier ones I'd had to endure but I still walked off the plane with a huge smile on my face.

Thanks, Gay Mafia.