See those people disembarking off the flight over there…twenty minutes ago they were all nude. They were passengers on a Naked Air Flight. Nudists, they fly. On planes. Nude. Except for shoes. Believe it or not, there are quite a few rules to be followed when flying nude. One of the rules involves a commemorative towel that must be sat on at all times while flying nude. On a plane. Except for shoes. Okay, now that I’ve got your attention, I’ve just written a post, NAKED ON A PLANE – EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANTED TO KNOW, AND MORE, on Gadling about my experiences with naked passengers. Yes, it’s true, in the last thirteen years I’ve actually had the pleasure to meet naked passengers, which always makes for a good party story. I mean we’re talking naked passengers here!

THE STORY…

I can’t remember the precise destination we were working, but what I do remember was the shocked look on my coworkers face when he came running up to the first class galley and exclaimed, “There’s a naked woman in coach!”

“What!” two of us cried in unison.

Needless to say, the breakfast service was now on hold. How could we serve bagels when there was a nekkid lady aboard the flight? Into the oven the bread went, and off and running we went, ignoring any passengers who may have tried to wave us down as we headed straight to the the back of the airplane, a blur of four dressed in blue.

“There she is. The last row,” said one of my coworkers as we neared the last row.

“Oh my god,” I remember thinking, or saying, I can’t remember, it was just too crazy to remember. What I do remember is she was young, cute, and naked. College aged, I’d say.

Now this was pre 9/11, so the flight was empty, and the thought of terrorists were the furthest from our minds. The only thing on our minds, besides this naked lady, was why in the world the lady would get naked on the airplane in the first place? Unfortunately, we would never find out…

To read more, please visit my other site, GALLEY GOSSIP. Now go!

As for me, I’ve got to figure out what to do with the tank, AKA the mommy mobile, the one that got smashed yesterday by the one driving a car with faulty breaks. It happened as I sat at a red light, one block away from the house. There I was, on my way to the gym, and BAM! I remember thinking, it can’t be that bad. When I got out of the car, I saw that it was that bad. For the other guy. Of course, the other guy, the one with the faulty breaks, is also the one who makes my breakfast favorite burrito at my favorite burrito spot, a spot I may have to avoid for a little while. And the really nice one who showed up on the scene in the patrol car was one of the ones on the show Speeders, a television show my husband actually watches. Only in LA.