The Glory of Online Dating (Part 4)
The conclusion of my search for online love.
Wednesday morning, I rose at the crack of dawn and dressed my body in the finest (and only) tweed suit that I owned. I styled my hair in a handsome, slicked-back manner and trimmed my long side-chops to earlobe-length. Then, I took a straight-razor to my face and shaved off everything except for my rugged mustache. Tina would no doubt fall head over heels in love with me as soon as she saw it. After that, I slicked my eyebrows with Vaseline, flossed my gums, tweezed my knuckles, applied my eye drops, doused myself in my special Malaysian warrior's perfume, slid into my slick loafers, and was out the door and on my way to the airport.
After a few stops at several bars on the way to the airport for a little liquid courage, I pulled into the large airport parking garage. I drive a 1975 Chevy Caprice and it's been described as a "horrible gargantuan boat-looking automobile" by my uncle Larry who soon after making that comment, was run over by it. So naturally, I voluntarily take up several parking spaces and finding a spot in the parking garage suitable for my large car was very difficult. When I finally managed to park it, I was assaulted with several vicious verbal insults and threats, mostly due to the fact that some ridiculous man was attempting to park his pathetic family van (with his family inside) in the second space that my Chevy was taking up. I tried to explain to the horrible cretin that I required two spaces for my over-sized vehicle, but he wouldn't listen to me and continued shouting incoherent blather in my direction so I gave up, thumbed my nose at him, and walked away, chuckling at his pathetic cries for my attention.
It took me almost an hour to find the correct terminal and forty-five more minutes to find a flower shop that sold Azaleas, which were my mother's favorite flower. She once told me that to give a girl Azaleas was much like giving her a piece of my heart. I took that to mean that I would surely receive intercourse in return for gifting them to the right woman. The woman at the register snorted with disgust when I purchased them, as I was clearly very erect in my nether regions when I gave her my debit card. I had surely overdrawn my bank account by hundreds of dollars, but I knew that I must impress and charm this young female into the sack. I also purchased, at a craft store, a large poster board and a black sharpie marker. When I arrived at the correct arrival gate, I laid the poster board on the floor and spelled out in large block letters, "TINA". Then I stood directly in front of the opening where people emerge from their flights, holding the poster board high and proud for her to see as she arrived. I received many strange and menacing looks from various civilians and airport workers who were no doubt incredibly jealous that they weren't "TINA".
Finally, the airplane rumbled into its position at the end of the ramp and the doors opened. Many passengers departed the aircraft and either met their loved ones or scurried off to their connecting flights like half-crazed orphans looking for a home. As they walked past me, I searched each face for the familiar beauty of Tina. I visually examined each breast of every woman that walked by, searching for the familiar perky shape of Tina's teats. One by one, they passed by, looking at me in a horrified manner, as if they were embarrassed to be ogled in such a way. I knew, though, that they were, in fact, flattered and lusted hungrily after what lay beneath my trousers. Finally, it seemed that every passenger had exited the plane and still, Tina had not appeared. I furiously stormed the desk where the flight attendant stood and demanded to be allowed access onboard the plane to search for Tina. They refused and laughed at my angry demands. I then demanded to know when the next flight from Gambia was to arrive, but my demands were met with more laughter and horrible lies about there not being another flight from Gambia for at least a week. My hopes shattered, I plopped down in one of the chairs provided for waiting passengers and family members. It would seem that I had been harshly tricked by Tina. Furious and depressed beyond my wildest dreams, I tore the poster board to shreds and trudged back through the terminal to find the nearest airport bar.
I entered "The Hangar", which was a grotesque bar and grill at the end of the line of all the shops and restaurants in the airport. I seated myself at the bar and requested a whiskey on the rocks and a shot of tequila. There I sat, drinking and wishing death upon Tina and all of her friends and family. When they finally refused to serve me any more alcohol, I simply found another small bar and started my bar tab all over again with another whiskey. Eventually, I was joined at the bar by a sharply dressed gentleman carrying a briefcase. This wallstreet barbarian seemed intent on making conversation with me and after twenty minutes of ignoring the man and making annoyed grunts at his small talk, I decided that I might as well humor him. I was, after all, alone at an airport, digging myself deeper into debt, and a bit desperate for human companionship. After learning that he had just married the girl of his dreams and looking over several pictures of the classic beauty that he now called his wife, I asked the question: "Where did the two of you meet?"
"Well it's an amazing story my friend." The man replied. "I met her on one of those online dating sites you always hear about on TV."
As I reigned down vicious hammer-fists upon him, I thought once again of my AA sponsor and laughed heartily. This was going to be a humorous story to tell at the meeting.
After a few stops at several bars on the way to the airport for a little liquid courage, I pulled into the large airport parking garage. I drive a 1975 Chevy Caprice and it's been described as a "horrible gargantuan boat-looking automobile" by my uncle Larry who soon after making that comment, was run over by it. So naturally, I voluntarily take up several parking spaces and finding a spot in the parking garage suitable for my large car was very difficult. When I finally managed to park it, I was assaulted with several vicious verbal insults and threats, mostly due to the fact that some ridiculous man was attempting to park his pathetic family van (with his family inside) in the second space that my Chevy was taking up. I tried to explain to the horrible cretin that I required two spaces for my over-sized vehicle, but he wouldn't listen to me and continued shouting incoherent blather in my direction so I gave up, thumbed my nose at him, and walked away, chuckling at his pathetic cries for my attention.
It took me almost an hour to find the correct terminal and forty-five more minutes to find a flower shop that sold Azaleas, which were my mother's favorite flower. She once told me that to give a girl Azaleas was much like giving her a piece of my heart. I took that to mean that I would surely receive intercourse in return for gifting them to the right woman. The woman at the register snorted with disgust when I purchased them, as I was clearly very erect in my nether regions when I gave her my debit card. I had surely overdrawn my bank account by hundreds of dollars, but I knew that I must impress and charm this young female into the sack. I also purchased, at a craft store, a large poster board and a black sharpie marker. When I arrived at the correct arrival gate, I laid the poster board on the floor and spelled out in large block letters, "TINA". Then I stood directly in front of the opening where people emerge from their flights, holding the poster board high and proud for her to see as she arrived. I received many strange and menacing looks from various civilians and airport workers who were no doubt incredibly jealous that they weren't "TINA".
Finally, the airplane rumbled into its position at the end of the ramp and the doors opened. Many passengers departed the aircraft and either met their loved ones or scurried off to their connecting flights like half-crazed orphans looking for a home. As they walked past me, I searched each face for the familiar beauty of Tina. I visually examined each breast of every woman that walked by, searching for the familiar perky shape of Tina's teats. One by one, they passed by, looking at me in a horrified manner, as if they were embarrassed to be ogled in such a way. I knew, though, that they were, in fact, flattered and lusted hungrily after what lay beneath my trousers. Finally, it seemed that every passenger had exited the plane and still, Tina had not appeared. I furiously stormed the desk where the flight attendant stood and demanded to be allowed access onboard the plane to search for Tina. They refused and laughed at my angry demands. I then demanded to know when the next flight from Gambia was to arrive, but my demands were met with more laughter and horrible lies about there not being another flight from Gambia for at least a week. My hopes shattered, I plopped down in one of the chairs provided for waiting passengers and family members. It would seem that I had been harshly tricked by Tina. Furious and depressed beyond my wildest dreams, I tore the poster board to shreds and trudged back through the terminal to find the nearest airport bar.
I entered "The Hangar", which was a grotesque bar and grill at the end of the line of all the shops and restaurants in the airport. I seated myself at the bar and requested a whiskey on the rocks and a shot of tequila. There I sat, drinking and wishing death upon Tina and all of her friends and family. When they finally refused to serve me any more alcohol, I simply found another small bar and started my bar tab all over again with another whiskey. Eventually, I was joined at the bar by a sharply dressed gentleman carrying a briefcase. This wallstreet barbarian seemed intent on making conversation with me and after twenty minutes of ignoring the man and making annoyed grunts at his small talk, I decided that I might as well humor him. I was, after all, alone at an airport, digging myself deeper into debt, and a bit desperate for human companionship. After learning that he had just married the girl of his dreams and looking over several pictures of the classic beauty that he now called his wife, I asked the question: "Where did the two of you meet?"
"Well it's an amazing story my friend." The man replied. "I met her on one of those online dating sites you always hear about on TV."
As I reigned down vicious hammer-fists upon him, I thought once again of my AA sponsor and laughed heartily. This was going to be a humorous story to tell at the meeting.
Post Comment | View Comments
