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Shoe Fly

My father was a military man. Growing up all my life around men and women in uniform, I developed a great appreciation for men in uniform of all kinds. Firemen, policemen, even pilots - though I refuse to ever date a pilot. It's just not a smart thing for a flight attendant to do.

One day I was on the EMB 120 (a thirty passenger plane with propellers instead of jet engines) and a pilot was hitching a ride with us to Fresno. He was sitting in the third row on the aisle, and from my jump seat I could see he was one of the most beautiful specimens of men I had ever seen. He had vivid green eyes and dark lashes, giving him a smoldering, dark expression in a bronzed and sculpted face made of a strong jaw and prominent cheek bones. He was slim but not skinny and he was about six feet tall. The best part was that he had no wedding ring. I was smitten!

I wanted to offer him something to drink, and upon my approach I thought about how fortunate it was I had worn my skirt that day. I had bee a model I years previous, and though I had lost most of the looks I had once pride myself on, I did still have nice legs. I had even seen him notice them.

I approached the second row and decided to sit on the outstretched armrest of that row so I could turn slightly to my left and chat with him a moment. As I grabbed the headrest to lower myself onto my perch, it didn't dawn on me to watch my aim. Someone had put the armrest UP!!

I missed the armrest that wasn't out and instead plopped straight into the seat with a jolt. The pilot looked up from his book, quite surprised at the sudden force strong enough to shake the plane. My momentum was strong enough that I fell straight backward on the seat, laying all the way across the two seats and hitting my head on the opposite arm rest. My feet went directly into the air and one shoe rocketed off of my foot straight into an overhead bin someone had just opened up to retrieve a laptop. The other went shooting down the aisle and skirted right under one of the passengers seats.

Embarrassed beyond belief, I leaned forward and peeked over the armrest at the pilot like a bashful child. No doubt I was bright red. I smiled my best smile. His concern for my well being was obvious, which only made matters even worse. He even asked if I was ok.

"Yeah, but it's a good thing I don't get embarrassed easily," I said, "because that would have been a really good excuse to be embarrassed."

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