Dear Skymall Magazine,
I never thought that something this erotic and crazy would ever happen to a guy like me, but when you travel, you always take that chance, right?
The setting was so romantic. But who doesn’t find airports sexy? When I saw him, he was wearing a white shirt. William was his name. Machines around me blinked and buzzed.
“Take off your shoes,” he said. William knew what he wanted. I found myself unable to resist…legally.
“Are you wearing a belt?”
“Yes,” I said in a weak whisper.
“I need you to take it off. Any rings?”
Yes, I am married, which made the encounter all the more surreal and unspeakable.
William said that I had my choice: He could take naked pictures of me, or he could run his hand up my thigh. Since the idea of a security agency taking naked pictures of me is, to me anyway, the most bone-chilling, Orwellian nightmare I can imagine, I opted for the latter.
William explained every move he was making, and with every move, you could tell that William really knew what he was doing; almost like he had been trained.
My one regret is that William never looked me in the eye. Where do you go, William? Where do you go?
“Alright,” he said, “thank you.”
What an odd thing to say, I thought. In our brief encounter, gratitude was the farthest thing that either of us were feeling. And yet I found myself saying “thank you” right back to him. How deep does this rabbit hole go?
As I put on my belt and shoes, William had already moved on. What did I expect? As I walked on towards my gate, I felt that I had left a little part of me with William. Was it dignity? Humanity? Self respect? Or a combination of all three?
And poor William drove home that night like he did every night, his hands numb from juggling junk.
Neither of us will sleep well tonight.