Creeping up into the sky

I'm not a person to randomly start up a conversation with a stranger. To me, it's kind of creepy. When strangers try to start up conversations with me, it normally turns me off rather quickly. Which is why last Friday morning was strange for me.

I was in New Orleans and had to catch an early flight. I woke up and grabbed my taxi pretty early (6AM) which is very early if you're still feeling like you're on California time (4AM). My cabbie grabs my stuff and we're on our way. I notice he's got a ton of purple, gold and green beads hanging on his meter. For some reason I tell him, "it looks like you're ready for Mardi Gras…"

And that's all it took. The cabbie told me that he takes the week before Mardi Gras off and films all the girls "going wild." He claimed that he was taping that at least five years before the now famous tapes started popping up. He then told me some racy stories about what has happened in the back of his cab. Modesty (or perhaps a better way to put it, class) prevents me from revealing the stories he told me, but it goes without saying that some graphic things have happened in his taxi. He also showed me his "special beads" that he gives to woman who show more than others during Mardi Gras, which actually is a dildo attached to some cheap white beads.

I ended up giving the guy a pretty good tip, and in return he gave me a copy of one of his home made porn flicks. Score! I met my first porn director of the day.

Later on that day, on the flight from Vegas to Burbank, I heard a voice as I was walking on the plane that I recognized. When I turned to look, I saw the one, the only, Alan Thicke. He was just sitting down, talking to what I assume was his agent on his cellphone. He sits down with a rather attractive woman and immediately starts to hit on her. I was satisfied with the notion of listening to Alan Thicke hit on a younger woman who was way out of his league for the next hour of my life.

A couple minutes later a guy asks if the seat next to me was empty (Southwest Airlines, open seating policy). I say no, and he takes his seat. The loud speakers announce that it's time to turn off all cellphones, and he pulls out his Treo and turns it off. As he turns it off, I can't help but notice that on the screen is a naked woman tied up, spread eagle. Soon we are in the air.

He says something to me like "I hope I didn't just make you uncomfortable." I say "excuse me?" And he says "I couldn't help but notice that you saw what was on my phone. I hope you weren't offended." I said "of course not." And he said "Good, because it's part of my job."

"And what might that be?" I ask. "Well, I direct porn." Yes, I meet the second director of porn of the day, but this man is the real deal. I believe he said his name was something like Miles Long, and not only was he a director, but has also starred in something like 400 movies. We talked for a long time about all sorts of topics, including real estate, steak restaurants, and yes, porn. He was a really cool guy, and at the end of the day exchanged email addresses. And to top it off, we land and Alan Thicke decides it's finally time for him to make his move. He asks for the woman's number, and she flat turns him down. All in all, a surreal five hours of my life.

In unrelated music news, Coachella looks pretty good this year, and I was just able to score Slint tickets. Here's to early 90's indie rock.