3. Wings of Passion

The plane ride was miserable. First, you have to drive to Dubuque, catch the shuttle to Des Moines, and then onward to Minneapolis. Minneapolis is where everyone from the Midwest goes to fly out of the Midwest. Their ‘economy minus’ tickets offered five inches less legroom than that of the overhead bins, but heck, they already blew most of their savings on the charges for all that extra luggage. No self-respecting Iowan would ever take a trip in the winter, even to Jamacia, without two or three pairs of flannel underwear.  

The lack of legroom forced Clifford to contort his six-foot-four frame into a fetal position. When the snacks came, there was no hope of lowering the tray. The four croutons and a half-ounce of squeeze cheese rested comfortably on his knees. He was miserable, but he’d promised himself to give their marriage one last chance. Passion will do that.

Meanwhile, Brenda had her own problems. While she had plenty of legroom, when the farmer in the seat in front of her tilted back her ample bosoms were pressed up towards her chin. She gained temporary relief when she lowered her own tray. Relief because it forced the farmer’s seat to invert forward. Now her breasts rested comfortably on the tray table, but her arms were pinned hopelessly at her sides. Opening then eating the package of croutons with her teeth was no problem. Opening and sucking the squeeze cheese out of the vacuum-sealed plastic was again no problem. The little cup of diet coke turned out to be a problem. Given the tight quarters, Brenda couldn’t lift her arms. A diet coke now wedged firmly between her two generous mounds. No straw; the coke was now just an inch or two out of reach. Turbulence ensured everything was in constant motion.  

Her breasts jiggled up and down while the diet coke sloshed left and right. She tried to reach the lip of the plastic cup with her teeth, no luck. She tried freeing one arm, no luck. In desperation to get just one sip, she forced her head down just like she was back at the county fair bobbing for apples. A forceful plunge into the small cup of coke. Maybe a bit too forceful. The diet coke went everywhere. While she got a few sips of drink, most of the syrup went up her nose. Before she could raise her head, she sneezed. The sneeze was loud, causing her to exhale violently, breaking the top two buttons of her blouse. The sneeze woke the sleeping infant in the row behind and set him to wailing. It woke Clifford as well. Looking over and now seeing Brenda’s unbridled breasts, he said, “I can’t wait to get to Jamacia, either.”

They landed on time in Minneapolis. The flights from Minnesota to Kingston and on to Ocho Rios were uneventful but long, thus ensuring our Iowa passengers were tired, sore, and hungry. They finally arrived late at night. 

Next up:  The Lapping Waves of Passion.

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