What to do when stranded overnight in an airport!

Discussion in 'General Discussion' started by syrenn, Jun 17, 2011.

  1. syrenn
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    syrenn BANNED

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  2. HUGGY
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    HUGGY I Post Because I Care Supporting Member

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    OK...I'm in....

    Here is a passage from my book "The Pilot". Just another airport scene...

    "It was two in the morning when I dragged my tired ass back into the airport gate and sat down to wait for the red eye back to Florida. There was no one anywhere to be seen. The place was quiet. I just started to nod off for a nap when this pretty red head ..about nineteen or twenty appeared at the entrance to the area I was sitting. She was dragging one of those wheeled carry on bags ..wearing a pretty flowered dress that revealed much about her shapely ass and full breasts. It was a silky garment she had on that left nothing to the imagination as to what it was concealing. I hadn’t noticed that it was rather uncommonly chilly for the airport but the fact that her nipples were standing straight out like a couple of chocolate kisses made me aware and I sat up and wrapped the jacket I was using as a pillow over my shoulders and stood up to join this young beauty at the concourse windows.

    “Its kind of cold in here” she complained without even looking at me. “Here” I said and without thinking I took my crushed brown velvet suit jacket and draped it over her alabaster white shoulders. “How is that?” I asked softly next to her beautifully shaped ear. She turned to me with a warm smile and a knowing look that said she was used to the men she knew pampering her. “You are a gentleman.” “My father would approve of you.” She said matter of factly. “What is your name?” “Sean” I replied politely. “And yours young lady?” “Heather....I’m on my way back home to San Francisco.” “It appears we are all alone in this airport. It’s almost like we are the only people on the planet.” She said as if reciting some verse from some poetry she had read. “You must be tired” I said.. “Long trip?” She nodded.

    We both turned and sat down next to each other facing the windows and our own reflections. “We make an attractive couple” I joked as I notice she also was caught gazing at our image before us in the glass. “Yes we do.” Then she took me completely by surprise when she abruptly turned to me and gave me a kiss on the right cheek. “I think you are very handsome Sean.” “Do you think I am attractive?” I gently reached out with my hands and guided her head towards mine and kissed her squarely on the lips. She closed her beautiful green eyes and kissed me back with her own hands now pulling me closer from behind my neck. We made out like that kissing and groping each others bodies without undressing for about an hour. This girl was hot. I had my fingers all over her breasts and down inside her panties cupping the mound between her thighs and sliding the middle finger back and forth in the juice she was providing from her own desire. “She had her tongue licking on my ear in long gentle strokes that matched the motion of my hand on her clit. She whispered “I am a virgin.” “I would love to do something about that with you right here...right now.” “I don’t think we would get away with that sweet Heather.” “Another time..another place.” “Damn girl you are making me very horny!” I exclaimed in total frustration. This totally hot and ready to fuck virgin was going to try to give her self to me in an airport concourse. “Heather..give me your phone number in San Francisco..I will definitely make you a promise that we will get together soon to finish this. I don’t usually find virgins appealing but you are the most beautiful and sexy woman that I have ever met with an offer like that.” “It would be an honor to be your first lover.” She looked deep into my eyes with a tear running down her cheek. “I want you to be my first.”

    Heather scribbled her address and phone number on the cover of her boarding pass and tore off the writing and handed it to me with a kiss. “I’ll be waiting.”

    An announcement droned out over the loudspeakers that her plane was about to leave two gates down from us and we hadn’t even noticed it had pulled up and boarded. We both ran down the concourse as fast as we could.. her in her disheveled dress and me carrying her bag. We just made her flight in the nick of time and with one last hot wet kiss we parted company.

    About an hour later I caught my flight to Houston that would connect me to West Palm. I couldn’t get the thought of mad passionate sex with this willing student out of my brain."
     
  3. Mr. H.
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    Mr. H. Diamond Member

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    I'm just about finished with my first book.
    When I'm done, I think I'll read another.
     
  4. Mr.Nick
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    Mr.Nick VIP Member

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    Put on a really good Tom Hanks impression??

    :lol:
     
  5. HUGGY
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    HUGGY I Post Because I Care Supporting Member

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    A little more from "The Pilot"...OR what to do when stranded at night at an airport....in a stolen airplane...

    Excerpts from "The Pilot" written by Sean Corey...........

    "Possession

    Stealing the plane was easy. It had gone like clockwork. Flying it from Seattle to the Cartel’s private airstrip in Virginia was becoming a bit more problematic. The proud kidnapped bird was straining my wits and testing my endurance. It was already dark over the northern Utah desert and I was on my second day out of Boeing field. I was only a third of the way to safety and fulfilling a non-negotiable rendezvous with Cory and Junior, my newest partners in crime. I knew I was running out of time.
    The drone of the turbocharged motor driven propellers was becoming slightly irregular. The annoying sound was an uncomfortable reminder that this pirated thoroughbred of an airplane was still fighting me en route to its new vocation, international smuggling. The arrhythmic beat, although not dangerous, was like the forced pounding of a boxer’s heart throbbing in the middle rounds as he resolves to final push toward a clean flawless run of finishing punches. I reached to the Cessna 402’s dash and adjusted the propeller synchronization knobs until the motors sang together on the same powerful beating note.
    For the last half an hour I had been at eight thousand feet as indicated on the altimeter, around 1,000 feet above ground level (AGL), with the new moon showing clearly the details of the Northern Utah high country.
    The temperature inside the cabin had been acceptably uncomfortable as the heater was fighting near zero outside the aircraft. I could easily see the sage brush and pick out individual cattle grazing out in the open range in the stark moon light. The soft white glow of Salt Lake City was visible off to the South. Although I had been flying on and off for over eighteen hours straight since last sleeping, my senses were still crisp and sharp. I wish I could have said the same for my plane.
    This theft had not gone exactly as planned. Flying an airplane, under the best of conditions, has its intense moments, like taking off, avoiding other air traffic and landing. These points of extreme focus are separated by mundane activities like looking for other traffic, scanning the gauges and calculating course corrections. This trip had been a shitstorm of adversity with little time for the usual flight maintenance and reflection.
    I was already missing my girl Rhonda, whose help I depended upon to steal this Cessna 402. Up to this moment the adventure was born of fits and starts. My mind was working likewise scanning forward to my future work as a pilot for the Cartel and back through the last several weeks’ activities that had led to this opportunity. I slipped the Stones into the cassette player and let “Girl with the far away eyes” sing into my headphones.
    Now 10:30 PM, I was airborne nearly a thousand air miles and nearly 24 hours from this planes theft, on my own, and headed for future base of operations in Virginia. Recent events had been continually creeping into my thoughts. I must have lost some of my focus because; here now over the Utah Mountains, I hadn’t noticed how quickly the range of visibility was closing in on me. Still, I was not alarmed sufficiently to make a navigational adjustment and drifted off again with my thoughts. The gods must have still been angry over the rude acquisition of this fine bird.
    I quickly snapped out of my reverie. Looking out of the windscreen, black and gray had replaced what was left of visibility. “What the fuck?” I muttered out loud. From what a few moments earlier had been relatively clear air was now rapidly becoming a dangerous situation. I had seen the gathering of tall white cumulus cloud formations to the south but figured I would just weave my way through them towards my next scheduled stop in Loveland, Colorado. In the darkness I hadn’t seen what was closing in fast behind me.
    Then it happened
    Without so much as the slightest of warnings I felt a massive motion towards my left and in the violence of the moment I could briefly see the altimeter spinning like a crazy clock displaying my acceleration in altitude. The powerful updraft of the unseen thunderhead behind me was sucking my plane like a bubble in a drinking straw. The blood was rushing from my brain. I must have blacked out for a few seconds. It did not matter. In a micro burst of wind shear so violent the airplanes control surfaces were useless. Like a drunk in a car crash I was probably lucky to be summarily disconnected from control. If I had been able to fight this assault I and my plane would have been lost.
    Coming back to consciousness, all I could do was just hold on tight to the yoke and try to make some sense of this wild ride towards the moon. Apparently the deities were just joking because I was released from my vertical trajectory almost as quickly as it had devoured me and the plane. I was summarily spat out of this thunderhead at approximately 28,000 feet and upside down. My plane and I had been lifted over 20,000 feet, to an altitude well above breathable air. The whole wild ride happened in less than 20 seconds!
    Now came the real test, a test far more critical than my ability to find and steal an aircraft. Could I get us out of this predicament and live to tell the tale? Think fast. Be sure. Act now. My ears were painfully popping and breathing was quickly becoming impossible. With a steady hand on the yoke and quick adjustments to the engine speed and control surfaces I righted the twin Cessna.
    The plane had oxygen which I had not tested. I quickly felt for and turned the lever on the valve, slid the plastic mask over my nose and was relieved to breathe in the clean life supporting taste of cool pure oxygen.
    I don’t want to complain but things weren’t exactly going as well as planned at this point. I nosed the bird over and dove for the mountain tops beneath me. As I sought out a patch of clear air at 12,000 feet to regroup in, I wondered out loud “What fucking else can go wrong”. Checking my instruments for a navigational correction, I discovered that my wild little unscheduled ride up the elevator had sucked me more than ten miles north of my previous position. Snow was blowing all around me and lightning was leapfrogging horizontally across the nearby cloud tops.
    I had seen enough violent weather for a lifetime in the last few minutes. It was time to set this bird down, check for damage and evaluate my chances of completing this stolen journey.
    I dug into my flight bag and grasped the familiar little plastic bound book. Flipping on the red cabin night light I quickly thumbed to the Wyoming section. It appeared, in my Western Flight and Airport Frequency Guide, that the closest usable runway would be Rock Springs, Wyoming at around 7,600 feet above mean sea level. I made a desperate dash for this high plateau refuge. It wasn’t long before I was in the airport’s radio range.
    Again I had to do some quick thinking. I took a chance that it was snowing hard in Rock Springs and gave a false aircraft number identity contacting the airport. At least for a short time the foul weather was going to be an advantage.
    The tower informed me of a couple of inches of snow on the landing surface with small blowing drifts. They advised I try to find a different place to land. I replied I was low on fuel and would take my chances. They resisted but I insisted. Seeing my landing lights approach they were good enough to turn on the runway lights. With a crosswind of twenty knots the runway was obscured in a shallow sea of white tumbling flakes flowing from left to right. I stuck the wheels hard, a strain on the gear, and landed relatively safely in white out conditions. Fortunately the taxiways were well identified with bright blue markers.
    I taxied carefully and slowly off of the frozen blizzard obscured runway towards a couple of planes tied down near the end of the tarmac. Passing them I spun around 180 and pulled my bird into the line. I couldn’t see the tower through the heavy blowing snow which meant that they couldn’t read my numbers. I shut down the plane’s motors and exhaled. It seemed my first completely safe breath in what had felt more like combat than cross country flying.
    Reaching back, for the big blue nylon bag that secured my traveling wardrobe, I fished for and felt the familiar down parka. I used it rock climbing, for many years, weathering many Northern Cascade mountain storms and brought it along just in case. Pulling it over my tired and cold torso I felt it’s warmth like a good old trusted friend.
    The faithful goose down did its magic against the icy air. I got out and slipped the prop covers on the propellers to prevent ice from sticking to them in the snowstorm. Too dark to do a proper inspection for storm damage, I returned to the plane to crawl into the down sleeping bag I had brought with me for just the possibility of cold weather and this occasion. I couldn’t measure the temperature but I was sure it was below zero.
     
  6. Dabs
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    Dabs ~Unpredictable~

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    I would have no clue how I would handle such a situation, as I've never been on an airplane *sigh*
    But I did watch The Terminal just the other day, just for funzies!
     

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