Swimsuit inspector

A few years back (Victor, quit avoiding the fact that damn near every story you tell happened twenty, thirty years ago...)... Ahm, roughly twenty years ago, I left the world of teaching school to go sling suitcases for Eastern Airlines for roughly $10,000 more per year. Go figure.

Now I - had - the time of myyyyy liiiiiife.. (That was sposedta sound like that song.. and if it didn't, plz read the basta again - and duly note - it was a wonderful time in my life.) We worked five or six airplanes a day - and spent the remaining time cooking breakfast, playing spades, "bones", or - making fun of co-workers who had earned it.

I forget whatinthehell I've written here, so if I repeat, I'm sorry. I forget whatinthehell I've written here, so if I repeat (GD Victor, would you get on with the story, you're losing us... .. oh.. k, sorry)...

We could fly anywhere in Coach for $6 one way. First class was $12. Damn it was nice.. Fifty of us or so who were at the age of "when a boner was a boner" were hired simultaneously. Even had a few chicks scattered in there - and yes, they were good workers/good people. I don't care where you work, it's always nice to have members of the opposite sex as we all probably have a little of that "hmmm, I wonder what'd it'd be like if......"

Criminy, ya think priests walk thru their offices wondering "hey bebbe, what's under that habit?" Yes, I know some of them 'alter' their ways - but good gosh, we all know a man is a man - priests have blood, blood flows... sometimes faster and to different places... Anyway, point being, it's nice to work with members of the opposite sex...

The 20 or so Eastern Airlines employees who were already there when us upstarts arrived were mainly from Atlanta or Miami and they'd formed a cliquish little softball team - and we sprites weren't invited to play in the Airport League... So, we went to head honcho of league and asked if we could enter a 2nd Eastern team. 'Yes, that'd be fine."

We formed "The Leftovers" - had shirts made up - anyone that wanted to play could (chicks included... hell... it's much more rewarding to be playing left field and have Sally at shortstop insteada Earl.)... Everyone batted, everyone stayed after and lied about how good we were and shared a soda pop. The more soda pops we drank, the better we believed we were.

We won some, we lost some - but... proud to report we kicked the Atlanta-Miami Eastern teams ass when we played them...

A few years went by - a group of us decided to start a traveling team - and IIIII hadddd the timmme of myyyyy liiiifeee... No, kiss my ass we weren't traveling to Lenexa, Lawrence, Topeka for our games. I'm talking Phoenix, Vegas, Atlanta, Fort Lauderdale, etc. Simply a blast. We were as 'fat' as some of these punks whose daddy gets'em on at Ford, and they buy and drive these King Cab F-350's, fill their tanks with $80 of fuel and think "ain't this the way everyone does it?"

Nick was our manager - and he was a nervous sort. Hell, if it was nowadays, we might have trouble passing thru the aiports as he could pass for someone from the East... Nick was a good man - long on heart - and sometimes a little short on brain. He proudly loaded his new $240 titanium water-filled bat into it's sleeve - and checked it at the gate. By the time we were halfway to Phoenix - we had him believing that the fucking water in his bat would freeze at 30,000 feet and it'd be shattered into 483 pieces by the time we landed. He musta paced up and down the aisle forty times. We landed, all was ok. We watched him rescue the water-filled bat with shit eatin' grins on our faces.

I don't remember how we did in Phoenix - we weren't that good - but we had fun.. I remember my friggin lips were burning and I wondered aloud why all these raisins come here to fry versus going to Florida where they could jump in the water whenever their lips burned. Gimme the Gulf, you can have all the air-conditioners on the roofs, no water to live by Arizona you want.

One night - in our best 20-something form - we took our remote controls around the outside of the posh hotel we stayed at... Our airline hotel rate afforded us cotton undie kinda folks to mingle/stay with the silk undied ones. We derived great pleasure finding a room with curtains open - and a pair of raisins laying on the bed watching Barbara Walters. Blink. We'd change their channel... An old dude in boxers would get up and change it back... Blink.. We'd change it again.. Over and over again.. Stupid I know, but it just didn't take much to amuse us back then. (GD Victor, you're still a simpleton and you'd enjoy doing shit like that today... Yes, I reckon you're correct.)...

Anyways, our little Eastern Airlines work run was about to come to the end of the runway. Frank Lorenzo, who'd bought and crippled Continental Airlines - was now the master of our company. I'm mixed on my feelings of Unions - and our Union had been offered to keep our jobs as revenues dwindled/costs rose - but, at 80% of our pay. We tried to tell our Union folks that 80% of something is one helluva lot better than 100% of nothing - but, we gradually stoodby as we went from Chapter 11 to the dreaded Chapter 7, total liquidation.

Management's last little coo to get their jollies was to have all sixty of us snotnoses polishing the exterior of the airplanes as they sat idly awaiting the next court ruling. These sanders weighed roughly 40 pounds each - and it didn't take very many minutes on a ladder holding that damn thing up agin' the plane to realize "hey, I wanna fucking play dominos, spades... cook breafast, load airplanes." ie, "damn it was nice to drive a Ford F350 whilst we had it."

As we dispersed, and the eventual Chapter 7 came down - we all shared a soda pop - rehashed the six/seven year run we had - and those of us that were lucky enough to have already landed new jobs - told of what we'd be doing - we traded phone numbers amongst only to never call, never have it be the same again.

Nick, the terrorist lookalike water-in-his bat wielding softball manager nicely asked "Vic, what are you going to be doing?" Always one to appreciate another's concern - I shot back "Nick.. thanks for asking.." (Fuck, I didn't have a job.. I didn't know how I'd pay my next electric bill letalone how I was gonna put soup on the table that night. "Nick, I found a job at a large retail athletic conglomerate, and I'm going to be a swimsuit inspector - you know, making sure folks wear undies when they try on swimsuits in that department." "Vic, that's wonderful.. I'm glad you've already found something." Unlike Nick's bat, our nice, wonderful, overpaid run had now shattered.

Yes, I regret the fact I don't have a humongous nest egg saved up from clocking in and out of the same company all these years - but hopefully all that is offset by the great times I've had - the wonderful people I've been able to share portions of their lives with. To all of you I've ever been a smartass too... I offer apologies, with the disclaimer "GD you probably earned it."

"Hi, and welcome to Dick's Sporting Goods.. ah, ma'am? I'm going to have to ask that you place that lacy little bra and G-string on my tray as it's a Federal Regualtion that you musn't try on swimsuits while you're wearing underwear." Bye bye now.