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- 06/11/2015
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2015 - Summer - Road Trip Entry
Rootin' Down The Highway - 9. Flight QF18
After some discussion of expectations and duties, Brett had accepted the position of band manager, just before we were called to board the big Boeing 747 jet. The crew was friendly and efficient getting us on board, after an on-time departure, I settled back to try and catch up on sleep. Brett wasn’t going to let me just doze off though, the man was all jumpy and had a myriad of questions.
“Hey, Buck?”
“Yeah, Brett?”
“Who’s picking us up when we land in Sydney?”
“Wayne’s wife is coming with their large ute.”
“Wayne’s wife?”
“Yeah.”
“Wayne’s married?”
“Yeah.”
“To a woman?”
“Yeah.”
“But he―”
“Yeah.”
“You mean she outsources sex?”
“Yeah.”
The return flight to Australia, from New York to Sydney, would take almost twenty-four hours with a stop in Los Angeles. We would also lose a day crossing the International Date Line, arriving in Oz two days after we left the US. My sleep postponed by my mate’s questions, I started reviewing the previous five weeks in my mind.
“Hey, Brett?”
“Yeah, Buck?”
“Did we just fuck the United Nations over the past few weeks?”
“What do you mean?”
“In South Florida we played with Laz from Cuba, and Hans from Austria. In Orlando, Donna from Puerto Rico nailed Dave; the rest of us had fun with the Brazilian twins. In Charleston it was Abbi, an American from Iowa, and a Mexican, Diego. Then Dave got royally fucked again in Atlanta by a big Haitian guy.”
“You’re right, mate! In Washington we played footy with those guys from Central America. On Tuesday night the two who took us home with them and gave us all hummers were from El Salvador. Then, after the performance at Rogo’s, we ended up with three Americans from three different states―Hawaii, Texas, and the District of Columbia.”
“We didn’t actually have sex with them, Brett. But the Furballs sure did, so I guess they count. They were sure loud enough.” By now I was smiling. It seemed as if we’d certainly gone rootin’ down the highway during our whirlwind tour.
“And when we were in New York, New York―I love saying that―Dave was plowed by the Canadian guy in the leather shop. That was pretty hot to watch; the rest of us all had boners. Then the Furballs had their fun with the Israeli bartender, and his Russian lover, while we ended up in bed with an Italian-American from Brooklyn.”
“Were you okay with that? I mean, Tony was hot, and I loved the fact we enjoyed him together. I thought you were into him so I went for it. I hope you didn’t mind.”
“Bloody fucking right I was into him. But if you hadn’t been with me, I’d probably not have come on to him.”
What the fuck? What the hell was going on here? Brett and I had been together almost every minute for over a month, and I was not looking forward to us being separated. We’d be in Perth in a few days. We both had our own places and our own friends. We’d discussed the possibility of all the guys relocating to Sydney, but that was up in the air. Dave needed to go back to New Zealand first and arrange to make the move to Australia permanent. Bloody hell! I wasn’t sure I wanted to go back to my place and sleep by myself. I’d gotten used to having Brett next to me when I went to sleep and when I woke up.
“Hey, Buck?”
“Yeah, Brett?”
“Wanna renew our membership in the mile high club?”
“I’m tired, babe. I will if you want to, but if you let me sleep for a bit, I have a great idea. Wake me up when we’re close to the International Date Line, we’ll fuck on the border. It’ll be something we can tell our kids about.” Our kids? What the fuck? Again!
“Bloody hell, never thought I’d see the day.”
“What day is that, Brett?”
“The day that Buck would pass up a fuck!”
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
2015 - Summer - Road Trip Entry
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