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A New York Escorts Confessions

Love At First Flight

So I’m moving to Seattle. And Portland.

It all started back in lovely, clean, and heart warming Newark Liberty airport. Ah the joys of choosing between Starbucks, Cinnabon, and Great Steak and Potato! The awing rotunda blocked by construction! The scenic views of highways!

We’re all use to it, the unceremoniousness of arriving and departing in the New York area. But the new heightened security has brought things to a new low.

I was making my way through the metal detector machines. Jacket off, check. Sneakers off, check. Laptop out of the bag, check. The floor was cold under my feet as I piled not one, not two, but three separate containers of assorted Alexa-swag through the Xray belt. When I got to the other side, one of the security officers screamed accusatorily, “Who’s bag is this?” She held up my Kooba bag by one of it’s straps. As if it were particularly repellent road meat.

“Uh, that’s mine. But—”

“Well you put it in wrong. It’s gotta go through again”

I was about to ask what the right way to put a bag in through the X-ray machine was (left side down? right side down? upside down?) when she THREW my sneakers about five feet down the belt. In my general direction.

Everyone going through the line stopped. They stared at them, my cute gold and yellow Pumas splayed out willy-nilly, disgorging my well-worn orthodics out of their mouths. D started to laugh.

“She threw my sneakers,” I said in disbelief. That only made D cackle harder. “No. That’s wrong. That’s—she shouldn’t be able to do that. It’s dis-.”

“Come on Alexa. I’ll buy you some Cinnabon sticks.”

Three thousand miles away quite a different experience awaited us. When I exited the gate at Seattle Tacoma airport (Sea-Tac), I wondered why the airline had dropped us off at the mall. The main terminal had soaring ceilings and pristine stores, including a Washington State Craft Store, a Puget Sound Nature Store, a nail salon, docking stations and places to charge your phone. There were restaurants that you’d actually want to eat at—like one that served fish and chips that you could watch them make in front of you. And all of that is to say nothing of the stunning views of Mount Rainier poking through the clouds that greeted us from the plane just before we even landed.

No Seattle Seahawks (GO HAWKS! GO SHAUN!) wear to speak of though, which seemed like such an obvious misstep. My vote may have to go to Portland’s airport, which we hit on the way back. This time we flew over breathtaking views of Mount Hood. And when we exited our gate this time, we entered a great airy atrium, in the middle of which was a grand piano. With someone playing it.

I stopped in my tracks with my mouth open. “There’s a piano player,” I finally said.

“Yes Lex. There is a piano player.”

“But. It’s. It’s an airport.”

“It’s Portland,” D said with a shrug.

New Yorkers pride themselves on being exactly what they are—brash, energetic,no-frills, no apologies. And certainly LaGuardia, Kennedy, and Newark are perfect expressions of that. But God, once in a while, it’s sure nice to have that lovely ole’ red carpet rolled out for you.

Comments

I know this is totally irrelevant, but which Kooba bag do you have? :)

I have the Marcelle one--love it! lol...

Posted by Kate on Sep 8 06:23AM

It's easy to fall in love with Portland in the Summer and Fall - glacier capped mountains, clean air, bluest of blue skies, forests, waterfalls. Not so easy in March after 5 months of grey skies and rain. But after living here 11 yrs (native Californian), it's hard to imagine living back in the concrete jungle.

Posted by MojoMark on Sep 8 11:25AM

Hi. Would you happen to know of any blogs about Pick Up Artists? I'm trying to do a little research. If anyone has any info/blogs of/on PUA's, can they please pass it along?

Thanks!

Moxie

Posted by Sex & Moxie on Sep 9 05:44PM

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I'm a twenty-something New York escort. I love Prada, Seven jeans, and Jimmy Choos. I'm also totally addicted to Starbucks' grande non-fat white mocha and working out.

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