On 07 May 2004 23:51:01 GMT, (OXMORON1) wrote:

Ed wrote and Guy quoted:
I recall one of the waning days of my mediocre aviation career,
dropping into Nellis for a weekend X-C. Head to the Q for a quick
douche, don the finest civvies, splash a bit of "sure-****" on the
face so's I smell delightful and head to the bar.

A few toddys and I strike up a conversation with an attractive young
prospect who seems amenable to dinner and possibly some post-prandial
activities. When I invite her out, she looks and says, "but you aren't
a pilot."

I reply that most assuredly I am--possibly the best and undoubtedly
the most combat experienced aviator in the room.

She says, "no you're not. You're not wearing a flight suit."

I think her doubts started when you only claimed that you were "possibly"
the best - semi-humility from a fighter jock? ;-)

Guy
Nay,
Ed didn't say anything about putting on the large chronometer with 8 dials and
seven buttons. Also he did put on the stinkum, ergo he was not a real pilot.
She probably mistook him for a T-29 driver as opposed to a real pilot, if she
thought he really was an aviator at all.
Probably not wearing his American Optical aviator's shades either.

Actually, it is only slick-wings that don't apply a dab of high
quality sure-**** before evening one-v-one sorties. Senior pilots and
toilet seat owners always meet the highest aromatic standards.

I did have the custom black-bezel GMT-Master Rolex prominently
displayed and was wearing my aviator style Serengetti Drivers in the
bar. Must also note that my heavy gold two-baht chain and personalized
Buddha were visible through the open collar of my spread-collar,
subtly flowered polyester Saturday Day Night Fever Travolta shirt.

No way she could mistake me for anything but a tactical aviator.


Ed Rasimus
Fighter Pilot (USAF-Ret)
"When Thunder Rolled"
Smithsonian Institution Press
ISBN #1-58834-103-8