Damn if this is not true! I was on the return flight the next day and damned if the same thing happened to me. She was on me like stink on catfish bait. I was horrified and not having much strength of character I submitted.
It was seared into my mind on that Christmas day. I had just returned from Cambodia serving under my great Captain John Kerry. Lazamataz as a young boy in the adjacent seat saw it all. I remember his plaintive voice screaming, “resist, resist, resist” but I was weak and at this point can not say more about the terrible carnage that wrecked my psych. I suspect seeing this incident is what made Laz what Laz is.
The Horror, The Horror, The Horror, Colonel Kurtz was there also. When we disbarked Colonel Kurtz came to me and said, “what the hell is wrong with you boy.
Thirty seven years of therapy has not eased my pain. I am a broken man! /S
This explains so much.
But not how you learned to make them magnificent briskets.