A Day When I Didn’t Feel A Tit!

“Fight Against Stupidity And Bureaucracy”

 

We’re back on travel today. Sort of. Well it’s about an incident that occurred while I was traveling. A lot of noteworthy incidents seem to happen in and around airports and plane journeys, not sure exactly why. This one is about the impractical things some people wear on airplanes.

Ok, ok, so it’s actually about breasts. Traveling breasts, but breasts. You just knew there had to be one, right?

This may upset some female readers (I know not why) but it is a fact of life that men like to look at womens’ breasts. I mean, when do men ever do anything, be it a blog, or a book, or a movie, or just a walk down the street and not take an interest in female mammary glands?

Even men with big boobs of their own, will still look at womens’ boobs, and even at women with smaller boobs than theirs. Similarly, men with little boobs will look at women with little boobs too, and big ones, and medium sized ones. And men with no boobs at all will look at women with boobs of all sizes and descriptions.

On behalf of men everywhere I feel obliged to point out that this fascination we have is not our fault, in fact it’s not a fault at all. It’s just a natural instinct residing inside every healthy heterosexual male.

Some women like to complain about it, but if they don’t want them admired why spend so much time and money pushing them up, pointing them out, paying for implants and using all the other mechanical aids and devices that has made the fashion industry $billions?

And before there is a burst of protest over that last statement, please remember that women have their own fascination…. with men’s butts. Only, because us men haven’t got eyes in the back of our heads, we can’t see them doing it so we don’t get annoyed or feign annoyance. Not that we would in any case. We’d just be grateful for the attention.

And it has to be said, there are a lot of men who also admire women’s butts too. But the women never see the faces we make when we are having a look. I bet they’d love to now! (Did I just say “we”? Oh dear!).

So we’ve established that today’s blog is about breasts, or boobs as they are called these days. Just one boob in fact, but a very nice one.

 

Actually, I’ve just thought of another justification for this story on my blog. “Boob” used to be a word that meant stupid people, or to do something stupid. Years ago anyone could say, “Hey, I made a boob,” and everyone knew what they were talking about. Now only a cosmetic surgeon can use that line and still illicit the same understanding response. But back to the story.

 

It was on a flight from Las Vegas to New York, New York. Because of the time difference it was a night flight arriving early the next morning at JFK. I was in my usual aisle seat and in the window seat was a woman approaching middle age and trying very hard not to look it. She was wearing a pair of tight denim jeans and a very, very low cut V-neck cardigan. I think it had sleeves, I’m not sure, my attention was elsewhere. Yes, she had large beasts. We were in double-D grand canyon territory at least. Quite a lot was showing thanks to the V-neck, and the whole stack appeared to be bra-less (that is an important fact to remember for the rest of this blog).

So that was okay. We both got seated, buckled up, listened to the safety speech and took off more or less on time. It was dark and after refreshments were handed out, which happened quite quickly after take-off, the lights in the cabin were dimmed and the windows shut to allow any passengers who wanted to, to sleep.

The woman beside me turned on her overhead light and began to read a novel she had taken from her bag. For a short while I read over a few of the papers I had with me for a meeting the following morning. Then I turned out my light and sat back to try to, if not sleep, at least relax for a bit. I knew I had lots of time to finish reading my stuff later.

Apparently I dozed off, I can’t remember for how long, but when I wakened later most of the other passengers also looked as if they were asleep or trying to get some rest. I unbuckled my seatbelt to change position slightly after having slid down in the seat a bit while asleep. That was ok, not a big operation, and I tried to do it as gently as possible so as not to disturb anyone close to me. Then I re-buckled my seatbelt.

In my efforts to check that I hadn’t disturbed anyone I turned my head to the left to see if the woman beside me was still reading her book. Her light was still on.

It was a simple act, but as many simple acts do, it had consequences. Not the kind that changed my life or anything like that, but the kind that certainly changed the flight completely. I never did finish reading my papers.

The woman had fallen asleep as well and was still sleeping. The book she had been reading hadn’t quite fallen out of her hand, but was resting on her legs. Her head and the top half of her body had slumped downwards and a little bit in my direction, which was fine because there was no one in the middle seat so there was lots of room.

But her left breast which had originally been showing a little bit, tittilatingly one might say (groan!), was now almost half the way outside her cardigan.

Before I continue, I should rush to my own defence here and preface this next bit by saying that long night flights in particular are very boring if you’re not lucky enough to get to sleep. I had been asleep for a while, but there was very little chance now of me repeating my slumber. There was only one thing to do.

You see I had become fascinated by what was happening. There wasn’t a stirring in my loins or anything like that, she wasn’t my type, and anyway these days boobs are on show all over the place. This was more of an intellectual “I wonder what’s going to happen next” kind of fascination.

This included, of course, an overwhelming urge to look, not once, but frequently. Always quickly glancing back to see if anyone else was watching, not her, but rather, me watching her. They weren’t so that was ok.

There were lots of permutations going through my head, but the three main ones were:

A. Would it simply fall all the way out?

B. Would it see its shadow, like the groundhog, and scurry back into place again, signifying another six more weeks of winter?

Or,

C. Would the woman waken up, realize what had happened and quickly rectify the situation?

Unlike Bill Murray, I hadn’t time to learn how to play the piano. In fact I hadn’t long to wait at all. The plane hit some fairly strong turbulence, and it was door number ‘A’ that opened.

Yes, another quarter or more jostled out to join the half already exposed, so now almost all of this woman’s left boobie was on show to the world. Well, in truth the world wasn’t paying attention, but it was on show to me.

Now, as most women and men know there is an unspoken law, what you might call a ‘titti protocol’. This law states that women don’t usually mind (in fact they like??) strangers, particularly men to look and admire the top part of their breasts. The sides are okay too. Clevage in the middle, positively encouraged. But the, shall we say more sensitive, nipple area is out of bounds (without prior permission, that is).

Well there beside me on the plane, out of bounds or not, the whole shebang was out there. The turbulence earlier hadn’t even stirred the woman let alone wakened her, so there was a good chance she was going to sleep for a while.

What to do?

Was there a solution to the problem?

Was there even a problem?

You know how, these days, identity theft has become a big thing. People are constantly being warned to burn or at least shred any mail and paperwork that may have details about them, because when your rubbish is outside the bounds of your home waiting for collection it is deemed to be in the public domain.

You know what’s coming next.

Yes, that’s right. I was sitting there debating whether this rule applied to wayward boobies. Now that this one had made its way independently outside the bounds of this woman’s cardigan was it, or was it not, in the public domain?

The Good Samaritan in me felt obliged to cup my hand and gently set it back inside her top. On my other shoulder however was another voice telling me what I should really be doing was to leave it alone and just enjoy the view.

In the end I decided it was one of those heads I would lose and tails I would lose as well situations.

If I tried to help, and took matters into my own hands, or hand in this case, and she woke up during the procedure would she think I was pushing it back inside her cardigan, or in some pervy way pulling more of it out to get a better look. Maybe I would get the blame for pulling it out in the first place! Either way I doubted very much if gratitude would have been her first reaction.

But then a stewardess came walking down the aisle checking seatbelts and so forth. When she got to my seat I stopped her, indicating the problem. She was highly amused at the spectacle and then she looked back to me and promptly went away. I thought that was that, but in a few moments she arrived back with another female colleague, her supervisor perhaps, and she too looked at the situation. They both giggled. I think it was at the woman, but it could equally have been at me. As a matter of fact I think it was a bit of both.

In a moment however, their professional training kicked in and the supervisor reached across me and shook the woman gentle by the shoulder. The woman wakened, the problem was indicated by the stewardess and, rather embarrassed, she turned slightly away and gathered up and packed away the offending article. Not that it was in the least bit offensive. After all was rectified she looked over at me and apologized profusely.

I told her not to worry, there was no need to apologize, these things happen.

And anyway I had hardly even noticed!

 

 

Have you had similar experiences? Send them along. Let the world know what is happening before it is too late.

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