As I waited in line to check my bag and get my boarding pass at the Lufthansa terminal at Boston's Logan International Airport a blond girl, around my age, kept looking over at me from 2 spots ahead of me in the queue.
Finally, after a few minutes of "sizing me up", she grabbed her stuff, moved near me and said, "Excuse Me?...".
Ever since I came out just a couple of years before, I've never really been "hit on" by a girl, so I didn't know how I was going to "break it" to her.
Turns out, I didn't need to worry. She asked me if I was only checking one piece of stored luggage...I was...and would I do a BIG favor for her??
She had 3 bags that due to size and/or weight needed to be checked in as stowed luggage. Passengers were allowed 2 pieces of stowed luggage and one carry-on. I had only one of each.
To avoid an extra $75 charge, she asked if I would check one of her bags in my name to save her the expense. Being a good Samaritan and a helpful guy, I immediately said, "Sure".
True, now, in the post 9/11 world, I doubt (or hope, at least), no one would agree to this arrangement today, but those were "simpler times".
(Or were they???....As I was well aware since I was a Nightly News devotee then, the Hezbollah hijacking of TWA Flight 847, which made world headlines, occurred just 3 weeks earlier...one American was killed)
So because she "asked nicely", I undertook the responsibility for a large green duffel bag as one of my pieces of checked luggage on an international flight originating in the US. A bag I had never seen before and had no idea of the contents inside.
Yah...I know.
After check-in, I told my "accomplice" that I would meet with her after landing, and we parted ways.
The flight, my first international/overseas flight was long and boring. I had thought I would make my trip more pleasant by asking the representative during check-in if I could "upgrade" to more spacious seating. She suggested that if I didn't mind the fact that I would be too close to the movie screen to view the movie selections, that I was welcome to switch to a seat in the forward most row of coach, right up by the movie screen. (Back then, movies on airplanes were still projected, like they are in cinemas, onto a large white screen. There were no individual LCD viewing screens like there are today.)
But, the check-in representative forgot to mention the "other" function that row served as...it was the "baby changing area".
Yes, the wall that held the screen for the movie projection also housed several "pull-down" bassinets.
The plane was a 747....hundreds of passengers!
Moms with their little babies were coming out of the woodwork to change their screaming rugrats' noxious diapers...
Nevertheless, I got very little sleep but when we arrived in Frankfort, I was VERY relieved to be changing planes.
I met up with the girl who's luggage was in my name and she said..."See you in baggage claim".
It immediately dawned on me that when we were in line in Boston, we were both waiting for a Boston to Frankfort flight...but, I forgot to ask if she was getting off in Frankfort, or going on to a connecting flight.
It turns out, she was getting off in Frankfort, but I was going on to Munich. So, since I checked her bag as "mine", it was going to Munich with me.
We tried to tell the Lufthansa staff that we needed that item to stay in Frankfort, but it was already tagged and on the plane bound for Munich.
I told the girl I'd get the item to her, who I'm sure then I knew her name especially since I had to get her luggage back to her, but even if tortured, I wouldn't be able to tell you her name today...funny how time is like that...during that summer, I am sure I knew her name by heart VERY WELL. But now, nothing.
I was initially planning to drive it to her since she said that after a week she would be in Vienna. I was planning on visiting Austria anyway. I nearly made it but being on Sunday when I attempted the drive and also, anxious to get back home, I created the two excuses of:
NUMBER 1:
I didn't have enough money to buy gasoline to get there (since I had only German Marks or American Dollars and couldn't exchange it for Austrian currency (even though GDM or, especially American Dollars may have well sufficed at any gas station in order to gas up)
NUMBER 2:
After the situation with John, I wanted to go home.
The reason I went to West Germany in the first place was to see John.
John N., my first love.
We had been keeping correspondence for some months now, since I found out from a mutual friend a year and a half earlier that he had enlisted in the Army and was in boot camp.
I wrote to him in boot camp and it seemed, from his letters back, that he was genuinely thrilled that I had contacted him in order to be friends again.
We had a big falling out in spring of 1981 and hadn't spoken to each other since then...all through our senior year, even during the heady times of graduation.
(During graduation ceremonies, my mom spotted him and called him over for a picture and he was cordial enough to pose, but I was nowhere nearby...he was still a nice kid to my mom, but still not my friend...I, for months afterwards stared at the picture my mom had snapped...my beloved John, in maroon cap and gown, smiling....but not at me...)
In '84, John had been stationed at Bischofgrun on the Czechoslovakian (Iron Curtain) border in what was then, West Germany. I suggested that in summer of '85, after I received my trust fund, I could visit him on vacation. He agreed it would be great.
Now, tired and irritable after a long and unpleasant flight from Boston, I was loaded down with an extra duffel bag and held in my hand keys to a Volkswagen rental which, although had been arranged supposedly by my travel agent ahead of time, I now stood in the parking lot of the airport realizing that it was a stick-shift.
Back in 1985, I strictly only knew how to drive automatic. My friend Sandra at Wrentham had tried to teach me how to drive standard...mainly because I knew that the car rental rates for autos in Europe were higher for automatic than for standard...but, after stalling her car and being too "nervous" for further instruction, decided to pay the extra for automatic.
I learned that I would have to pay another $100 for automatic (no wonder the travel agency price seemed so good, they screwed me!!), got my automatic GOLF and drove north on the Autobahn towards Nuremberg, Bayreuth and, eventually Bischofgrun.
On the way north, I watched for exit signs for various locals as they corresponded to my map. I'm very good with geography, but not so much with languages which is why the following situation arose. As I drove further and further on, I noticed that each exit off the highway was to "Ausgang". I kept thinking that this suburb was very large indeed since each and every exit off the highway said: "Ausgang". Although I thought that "Ausgang" was the name of a very spread-out destination, I eventually discovered that "ausgang", in German, means "exit". Silly me.
I eventually met with John in downtown Bayreuth. We went shopping and out to dinner. It was like old times except instead of simple, familiar, Woonsocket, we were in Europe, all grown up now. There was a feeling, at least on my part, of precious time lost.
We did touristy things the first and next day, but as we sat in his small apartment on that second night, about ready to play an innocent game of German Monopoly...his white sock covered foot moved towards my crotch...
I really hadn't intended that this trip would in any way rekindle our sexual experiences. John had implied in the various letters to me that he had decided that he was straight, with a bi-sexual tinge, but had not in anyway implied we could "get back together".
His foot was on my cock though, and his intent was very clear...he wanted to fuck!
And that we did.
He and I 69'd...he came all over my chest too early and apologized...he then got hard again and fucked me and for the first time ever, I felt him cum in my ass. He then fingered my hole to allow me to spurt my load. We hugged and kissed for what seemed like hours.
The next day, I asked him what we were going to do and he seemed to be....another person.
He, in essence, stated that we couldn't stay together, because he was getting ready to move back and couldn't deal with distractions, some bullshit like that.
When we both got back to the States, I tried to contact him but he wouldn't have anything of it and though he agreed to transport my decanter set at no duty since he was US ARMY saving me costs, he said "It broke en route". So I was out an expensive glass decanter set.
Funny..I, despite the difficulty that the added baggage caused for me for a fellow American traveler, was responsible enough to ship the blond girls duffel bag back to her in Arizona.
It still persists though, that even though we had great sex in Germany, and he had the means to contact me on any whim, I have never seen or spoken to John since that July of 1985.
Finally, after a few minutes of "sizing me up", she grabbed her stuff, moved near me and said, "Excuse Me?...".
Ever since I came out just a couple of years before, I've never really been "hit on" by a girl, so I didn't know how I was going to "break it" to her.
Turns out, I didn't need to worry. She asked me if I was only checking one piece of stored luggage...I was...and would I do a BIG favor for her??
She had 3 bags that due to size and/or weight needed to be checked in as stowed luggage. Passengers were allowed 2 pieces of stowed luggage and one carry-on. I had only one of each.
To avoid an extra $75 charge, she asked if I would check one of her bags in my name to save her the expense. Being a good Samaritan and a helpful guy, I immediately said, "Sure".
True, now, in the post 9/11 world, I doubt (or hope, at least), no one would agree to this arrangement today, but those were "simpler times".
(Or were they???....As I was well aware since I was a Nightly News devotee then, the Hezbollah hijacking of TWA Flight 847, which made world headlines, occurred just 3 weeks earlier...one American was killed)
So because she "asked nicely", I undertook the responsibility for a large green duffel bag as one of my pieces of checked luggage on an international flight originating in the US. A bag I had never seen before and had no idea of the contents inside.
Yah...I know.
After check-in, I told my "accomplice" that I would meet with her after landing, and we parted ways.
The flight, my first international/overseas flight was long and boring. I had thought I would make my trip more pleasant by asking the representative during check-in if I could "upgrade" to more spacious seating. She suggested that if I didn't mind the fact that I would be too close to the movie screen to view the movie selections, that I was welcome to switch to a seat in the forward most row of coach, right up by the movie screen. (Back then, movies on airplanes were still projected, like they are in cinemas, onto a large white screen. There were no individual LCD viewing screens like there are today.)
But, the check-in representative forgot to mention the "other" function that row served as...it was the "baby changing area".
Yes, the wall that held the screen for the movie projection also housed several "pull-down" bassinets.
The plane was a 747....hundreds of passengers!
Moms with their little babies were coming out of the woodwork to change their screaming rugrats' noxious diapers...
Nevertheless, I got very little sleep but when we arrived in Frankfort, I was VERY relieved to be changing planes.
I met up with the girl who's luggage was in my name and she said..."See you in baggage claim".
It immediately dawned on me that when we were in line in Boston, we were both waiting for a Boston to Frankfort flight...but, I forgot to ask if she was getting off in Frankfort, or going on to a connecting flight.
It turns out, she was getting off in Frankfort, but I was going on to Munich. So, since I checked her bag as "mine", it was going to Munich with me.
We tried to tell the Lufthansa staff that we needed that item to stay in Frankfort, but it was already tagged and on the plane bound for Munich.
I told the girl I'd get the item to her, who I'm sure then I knew her name especially since I had to get her luggage back to her, but even if tortured, I wouldn't be able to tell you her name today...funny how time is like that...during that summer, I am sure I knew her name by heart VERY WELL. But now, nothing.
I was initially planning to drive it to her since she said that after a week she would be in Vienna. I was planning on visiting Austria anyway. I nearly made it but being on Sunday when I attempted the drive and also, anxious to get back home, I created the two excuses of:
NUMBER 1:
I didn't have enough money to buy gasoline to get there (since I had only German Marks or American Dollars and couldn't exchange it for Austrian currency (even though GDM or, especially American Dollars may have well sufficed at any gas station in order to gas up)
NUMBER 2:
After the situation with John, I wanted to go home.
The reason I went to West Germany in the first place was to see John.
John N., my first love.
We had been keeping correspondence for some months now, since I found out from a mutual friend a year and a half earlier that he had enlisted in the Army and was in boot camp.
I wrote to him in boot camp and it seemed, from his letters back, that he was genuinely thrilled that I had contacted him in order to be friends again.
We had a big falling out in spring of 1981 and hadn't spoken to each other since then...all through our senior year, even during the heady times of graduation.
(During graduation ceremonies, my mom spotted him and called him over for a picture and he was cordial enough to pose, but I was nowhere nearby...he was still a nice kid to my mom, but still not my friend...I, for months afterwards stared at the picture my mom had snapped...my beloved John, in maroon cap and gown, smiling....but not at me...)
In '84, John had been stationed at Bischofgrun on the Czechoslovakian (Iron Curtain) border in what was then, West Germany. I suggested that in summer of '85, after I received my trust fund, I could visit him on vacation. He agreed it would be great.
Now, tired and irritable after a long and unpleasant flight from Boston, I was loaded down with an extra duffel bag and held in my hand keys to a Volkswagen rental which, although had been arranged supposedly by my travel agent ahead of time, I now stood in the parking lot of the airport realizing that it was a stick-shift.
Back in 1985, I strictly only knew how to drive automatic. My friend Sandra at Wrentham had tried to teach me how to drive standard...mainly because I knew that the car rental rates for autos in Europe were higher for automatic than for standard...but, after stalling her car and being too "nervous" for further instruction, decided to pay the extra for automatic.
I learned that I would have to pay another $100 for automatic (no wonder the travel agency price seemed so good, they screwed me!!), got my automatic GOLF and drove north on the Autobahn towards Nuremberg, Bayreuth and, eventually Bischofgrun.
On the way north, I watched for exit signs for various locals as they corresponded to my map. I'm very good with geography, but not so much with languages which is why the following situation arose. As I drove further and further on, I noticed that each exit off the highway was to "Ausgang". I kept thinking that this suburb was very large indeed since each and every exit off the highway said: "Ausgang". Although I thought that "Ausgang" was the name of a very spread-out destination, I eventually discovered that "ausgang", in German, means "exit". Silly me.
I eventually met with John in downtown Bayreuth. We went shopping and out to dinner. It was like old times except instead of simple, familiar, Woonsocket, we were in Europe, all grown up now. There was a feeling, at least on my part, of precious time lost.
We did touristy things the first and next day, but as we sat in his small apartment on that second night, about ready to play an innocent game of German Monopoly...his white sock covered foot moved towards my crotch...
I really hadn't intended that this trip would in any way rekindle our sexual experiences. John had implied in the various letters to me that he had decided that he was straight, with a bi-sexual tinge, but had not in anyway implied we could "get back together".
His foot was on my cock though, and his intent was very clear...he wanted to fuck!
And that we did.
He and I 69'd...he came all over my chest too early and apologized...he then got hard again and fucked me and for the first time ever, I felt him cum in my ass. He then fingered my hole to allow me to spurt my load. We hugged and kissed for what seemed like hours.
The next day, I asked him what we were going to do and he seemed to be....another person.
He, in essence, stated that we couldn't stay together, because he was getting ready to move back and couldn't deal with distractions, some bullshit like that.
When we both got back to the States, I tried to contact him but he wouldn't have anything of it and though he agreed to transport my decanter set at no duty since he was US ARMY saving me costs, he said "It broke en route". So I was out an expensive glass decanter set.
Funny..I, despite the difficulty that the added baggage caused for me for a fellow American traveler, was responsible enough to ship the blond girls duffel bag back to her in Arizona.
It still persists though, that even though we had great sex in Germany, and he had the means to contact me on any whim, I have never seen or spoken to John since that July of 1985.