All Disclaimers
BLACK AND WHITE
Chapter 66--The Getaway
After dinner, everyone was too full of food and drink to consider a roll in the hay. We got a rain check from Donnie and Trevor for later in the week, perhaps. We didn't get even that much from Jeremy and Preston. Instead of some "hide the wiener" action, Preston pulled out his genealogy. We went through most of his book, comparing it to my computerized version of our mutual family tree, making corrections and additions as needed to both sets of records (after comparing sources for the data and determining which were better). Dave and Jeremy did the dishes and talked about male-to-male relationships. They thought they had to be more entertained than we were, but they didn't know how crazy a couple of amateur genealogists can get, pouring over two databases dealing with the same families.
Preston and Jeremy went to bed early, after making out on the sofa for an hour while we channel surfed. Jeremy had called the Lexus dealership to arrange a few days of vacation. As he'd earned it, they'd agreed. By the way the two youngsters were working each other over, I was beginning to wonder if Jeremy would go back to work at all this week.
In bed, Dave asked me if I were ready for a vacation. I looked a little puzzled at him as we were on a "permanent vacation". "I mean getting away from it all, you know, run away from home, get out of our rut?"
"Well, sure, but do you want to spend that kinda money?"
"We have it to burn, Mike," he smiled. "We've made enough in the last three months on our investments to nearly pay the taxes on the settlement." I knew that wasn't true, but we'd made a big dent in our tax obligations for the year.
"Okay, so whatcha got in mind?"
"I haven't thought about it very much. How about a mini-vacation, say to, uh, Victoria, B.C. or Banff? Just some time away, Mike. This isn't our honeymoon, though. That'll be much more lavish and expensive," he laughed. "Whatcha think?"
"I like the idea, but I'd like to think about a destination a little more, though. How about if we give Brad a call in the morning and ask him what kinda of package deals he has for a quick getaway?"
"Always the bargain hunter!" Dave chortled.
"No point in burning money we don't have to," I chided him, somewhat hurt at his unkind portrayal of my parsimonious spending habits. I thought of it as reasonable, not cheap. But, Dave saw it as non-spontaneous. He wasn't being cruel about it, but it stung, nonetheless. Perhaps, he was right. And that's why it stung.
The next morning, Jeremy and Preston joined us for breakfast. Preston was subdued, as though he had something on his mind. "Uh, I'm not sure how to say this, so I'll just say it," he began. "Jeremy and I have been having a wonderful time together, and I'll never be able to thank you enough for introducing us. But, I hope you won't be too put out with me, if Jeremy and I wanted to spend more time together, uh, at his place."
"We'll see you again before you fly back to Salt Lake City, won't we?" Dave asked.
"Oh, sure, we aren't going to ignore the rest of the world," Preston quickly assured us. "We'd just like to spend more time together, that's all."
"Well, we were thinking of a quick getaway for ourselves, anyway," I volunteered. "We'll just do it sooner, if Brad can find us a fun place to go, not too far away."
"Don't let us slow you down," Jeremy insisted. "I could always take Pres to the airport on Saturday. So, don't worry about when you can leave or want to come back. Enjoy yourselves and leave Pres to me," he grinned, giving Preston a big hug and a peck on the cheek.
"You sure you don't mind?" Dave asked. "Well, that was a stupid question," he laughed, realizing that they could easily spend the remainder of the week in bed with each other and not give another thought to us.
"We'll be fine," Preston agreed. "Take off, enjoy!"
Preston gathered up his suitcase contents in a flash, joining Jeremy at the door. "Thanks for being so understanding, guys," Jeremy smiled, giving each of us a kiss and a grope. "After I ditch this little number Saturday, I'll be back, darkening your doorstep, again!"
"You'd better call first. We may be out of town, sampling men in other cities," I warned him with a laugh.
Dave called Brad, told him what we wanted to do, how long we wanted to be gone (anywhere from three to seven days), and how soon we wanted to leave (which was tomorrow, if possible). Brad promised to call us back within the hour to give us some travel options. We were lucky to find him in. We'd forgotten that it was the 4th of July.
We were in luck. He called back 30 minutes later. There was a loosely arranged tour group hitting all the little known interesting places in Vancouver and the surrounding area. We'd have to cruise through Stanley Park, of course, and take the cable car up to Grouse Mountain. Staying at the Parkhill Hotel, we would be in the middle of the gay district. The nightlife there was legendary. If we chose, we could tack on an extra three days and ferry over to Victoria, B.C. to tour the Butchart Rose Gardens and Government House. Additional details would be sent over by messenger no later than tomorrow morning.
Robert and Gary didn't forget it was the 4th of July, though. They invited us to another barbeque at their place for later in the afternoon. Of course, Preston and Jeremy were on the invitation list, but we could only leave a message. They seemed to be busy or weren't home. You can take a guess as to which.
Robert's brother Ray and his new boyfriend (Joe) were in town and staying with them. Ray had given up his apartment here and was moving to Las Vegas to be with Joe, the landscaper, and to start his new job at the casino. Joe came down to see how his landscaping was surviving at our place as well as at Kurt and Gene's. He was satisfied that his work was thriving and that we'd been taking adequate care of the new plants and shrubs. But, his hot, Italian, daddy looks made our dicks stiffen.
He looked at us oddly, then, smiled. "Sorry, guys. This bootie is off-limits for a while. Ray and I have decided to be monogamous, at least for a while. We'll see how long it lasts, but we need to try. If anyone were to get me to stray, it would be either of you."
Although we looked disappointed, Dave said, "We wish you luck in keeping to your monogamy promise to each other. Most gay men would love to fuck with either or both of you at any time. This will be harder than you think."
"Perhaps for Ray, but I don't think it'll be as tough for me. I've been around the block and have done a lot of men. Ray hasn't," Joe revealed. "But, this was his idea, and I'm willing to go with it. We just have to be honest with each other all the time."
"How about a kiss for good luck, then?" I suggested with a leer.
"You are SO bad!" Joe laughed. "A chaste kiss, none of that stuff that gets me so hot when I'm with you guys."
"What stuff?" Dave asked innocently, as he ground his bulging crotch into Joe's ass and I kissed Joe and hugged both of them.
"Uh, maybe, you should wish me luck when Ray's here," Joe backpedaled. "I'm not sure I could trust myself with both of you coming on to me, especially with that big dick knocking on my back door." Dave backed away, smiling.
"Okay, we'll be good," I volunteered. "But, make sure we're the first ones you call if you should decide that monogamy isn't going to work in your relationship." We gave him more respectable kisses, but had to pat his hard, round, daddy ass. I remembered how hot it was to fuck that furry Italian butthole. From the look of Dave's swollen crotch, he was remembering the same thing.
Bringing another summer salad, we joined the boys for dinner at Gary and Robert's. We never did get a response from Jeremy and Preston. But, Kurt and Gene joined us, along with Phil and Farrell and Nick and Mark. As would be expected, the conversation turned to Junior and Ben.
"How'd they do together?" Kurt asked. "I know they left Mike and Dave's party that was thrown for Preston a little early."
"We didn't see much of them, but we sure heard a lot," Gary laughed. "That Texas cowboy was ridin' that boy like he'd never get another piece of ass in his life. Lots of 'Yee Haw' was goin' on. I know he says he can cum and recover in ten minutes as often as your ass can stand it. From my experience, I have not reason to doubt him. But, Ben took him on and wore him out."
"Now, I'm not one to gossip," Robert started, and we all laughed, "but, I think that Texas longhorn took a long, black dick up his butt before dinner on Sunday. He sure did walk funny for a while, and he sat real carefully at the table for dinner."
"It could be that his dick was sore or his balls hurt from making all that dick gravy in quantities he's probably never had to produce before," Dave allowed. We laughed, again.
"Not fuckin' likely," Gary smiled. "I asked Ben if he got what he needed from Junior and he said that he'd gotten everything he'd wanted, and more."
"Come to think of it, one of the sessions in the late afternoon was particularly noisy. Remember how we had to turn up the television?" Robert recalled laughing. "And I don't think it was Ben makin' all the noise, either."
"Ben's dick's not particularly thick, but it's long enough to make you take notice," I revealed. "And a virgin ass like Junior's WOULD notice!"
The conversation turned to how Jeremy and Preston were getting along. We suggested that their absence provided a better answer than we could.
After dinner, we bid them all good night, giving Joe and Ray special hugs and kisses to remember us by as they prepared to leave for their new home in Las Vegas. Joe told us to come visit them soon, as they were looking for a home to share, instead of his apartment. We were welcome to stay with them, anytime, they'd insisted. But, Uncle Clay owns a very large house where we would be staying when we did go there for a visit. However, it wasn't appropriate that we reveal that now. In either case, we'd be staying with monogamists.
As we'd ditched our clothes to crawl into bed, I pulled Dave to me and kissed him. "You have something on your mind, don't ya?" I whispered nuzzling his neck.
"I'm pretty transparent to you, aren't I," Dave sighed.
"Only to me."
"Well, I was thinking about their monogamy, Ray and Joe's," Dave began. "Is it time for us to look at that option, again?"
I pulled back from him and looked into his dark, smiling eyes. "No time like the present to find out," I replied. "Why don't you start? Tell me all the reasons that are going through your head that make you think about it, positive and negative."
He rolled me on to my side, then, snuggled into my back. He spoke softly, kissing my shoulders and neck for emphasis as he made one point after another. His thick tubesteak pulsed against my ass trench, but only half-heartedly. Dave's focus was on monogamy, not sex (at the moment, anyway).
"So, there you have it," he concluded. "All the reasons why and why not."
"Okay, let's try to take them one at a time and see how you feel about them or if they are truly important deal-breakers," I suggested, wiggling my ass tentatively into his awakening crotch. His mind had wandered, but not by much.
"Gawd! I love you so much," he whispered. "Every time we get into bed like this, I can't help but want to make love to you for hours on end. So, to get this discussion going, I gotta pull away from that hungry ass of yours."
He rolled over. It was my turn to snuggle into his back, and talk to him. "I love you, too, Dave. I know I don't say it often enough, but I do truly love you. And if you wanna bang my ass all day and all night, I'm okay with that. I love how you make love to me. No one else knows how, or has ever known how, like you do."
He wiggled his high, round, muscle butt into my thickening dick. "But, we need to talk about monogamy right now, Mike. Much as I want you to fuck me now as much as I wanted to fuck you earlier, let's stay on subject here."
"Okay, but, this is only a momentary truce," I chuckled. "You and I have unfinished butt bangin' business to conduct."
"Fair enough, but let's get back to monogamy before someone gets seriously molested."
"I'm up for molesting!"
"MIKE!" he laughed.
"Okay, okay, I'll be good, if you will."
"Deal!" he agreed. His hard butt stopped grasping at my dick and settled down.
"Okay, let's take some of your points one at a time, in no particular order," I began.
"Okay."
"Let's see. We're fucking around a lot. We seem to have sex partners coming out our ears, and that raises the prospect of disease among other things," I said.
"Right, but I think there are several issues buried in that summation," Dave offered. "For instance, are we fucking around too much and not giving US enough time together to renew our bonds of love? Are we hiding behind sex with others to disguise some lack of fulfillment in each other? Are we being indiscriminate and fucking with nearly any hot man that comes along? And, are we just lucky so far that we haven't contracted any diseases?"
"Wow! That's a mouthful. What do you think, Dave?"
"Well, I've always thought that sex with you was and is the best. Others are good at it, but you ring all my bells. There are times when I miss our special times together because we're fucking with everyone else."
"So, how should we address that?"
"Monogamy is one way."
"Yes, but it's a pretty extreme way to get into my pants more frequently," I softly laughed.
"Yeah, and a very selfish way to get to monogamy," he lamented. "So, that's not a good reason. Perhaps, we need to devote a day to just us (or maybe, just an evening) where we spend time with only us, no interruptions, no friends?"
"That has merit," I agreed. "I like the idea. We do need quality time for just us, instead of letting others direct it for us. Because almost all of our friends have jobs and want to party and get together on weekends, I recommend that we pick a week day or evening that we hold apart, just for us."
"How about Wednesday, unless it falls on a holiday, and then we select another day in the same week?"
"Okay, that works. So, what else is in that mass of questions?" I pressed.
"Disease. We need to get screened again for HIV. We should be much more careful about who we suck off, if the guy's a total stranger," Dave suggested. I sighed. "Well, it's a start!"
"Yeah, I know it is, and I agree with you, Dave. I was just wondering if we'd be able to do it."
"Well, we can try."
"Okay, so what next? Do you think we're hiding behind sex with other guys to disguise some lack in our relationship?"
"Well, no. I think that was a reaction to not getting enough of you often enough, Mike."
"That was pretty easy. You sure?"
"I think so. I'll give it more thought if I feel that way at some point in the future."
"Okay, so what else?"
"Uh, well, I can't really think of anything. How do you feel about it? You don't have any lingering issues about sharing me with other men?"
"No, I'm okay with that," I mused slowly. "I get jealous once in a while when some guy really gets off on your big dick or hot ass. But you've been so good about how Kurt and Randy like to get into my pants, I can't complain about the occasional man who loses his control when he gets some of that monster dick of yours."
"Yeah, as long as you keep coming back to me, I'm happy."
"Just say something when a guy like Kurt gets a little too close or possessive, Dave," I asked. "And remember that you're the man I love, not Kurt or Randy or Brad or some other hung stud du jour."
"It's always nice to hear," Dave smiled.
"So, you okay with our non-monogamy?"
"Yeah, sure. I just think we need to revisit the subject once in a while."
"We still should head down to the clinic tomorrow and get that HIV test, though," I reminded him. "I think we're both serious about that."
"I know. But, we'll have to do it early. We're flying out to Vancouver, B.C. at noon tomorrow."
We were the only male patients at the clinic when we arrived at 8:30 in the morning. After filling out the lengthy questionnaire about our sexual habits and other paperwork, we were individually interviewed by one of the HIV counselors. "We do that in case one or the other partner has something to divulge that they'd rather not have their partner know about," he'd confided to both of us separately. "And from the looks of it, you've been busy boys! You say you've fucked around with about a hundred different men since your last test some 18 months ago, Mike?" he smiled. I nodded. "The people who designed these questionnaires didn't have your particular situation in mind. So, let me get this down as you practice it. You fuck each other bareback about equally, but never get fucked bareback by other men. You always use a condom when fucking or getting fucked by other men. But, you do suck other guys off. Am I correct so far?"
"Yeah, but we've fucked a couple of other guys bareback, and we had a couple of condoms break a few months back with Dave's brother," I said, going for full disclosure.
"No shit? You fucked his brother?"
"We both did."
"Damn! Close family, I guess," he smiled.
"Well, not to put too fine a point on it, there's another brother of his that we fuck with, too."
"Very close family," he laughed. "You know to be very aware of your oral health if you're gonna blow some dude and swallow his load?" I nodded, again. "I gave the same warning to Dave, considering your mutual love for cum. So, anything you wanna ask or tell me about, Mike? Other sexual practices I should know about?" the interviewer asked.
"I can't think of anything, unless rimming is on your list of sexual practices."
"It sure is!" he laughed. "You go for the clean or aromatic ones?"
"Clean. Well, for the most part, anyway."
"I love rimming a hot, clean ass, too," he confided. "That boyfriend of yours has one fine bootie."
"Don't I know it!"
"One of the great things about this job is that I get to talk about sex all day long. But, the big drawback is finding a hot couple like you and not being able to do anything about it," he sighed. "Professional ethics can be such a pain in the ass."
"Well, you could 'accidentally' run into us at the gym. That's where we get most of our action, outside of each other, that is," I grinned evilly at him.
"Oh, yeah, you did mention it in your questionnaire," he mused with a wicked grin right back at me.
"Uh, this isn't gonna get back to the management there, is it?" I wondered with a worried look.
"Nah, unless there is some specific 'Typhoid Mary' thing going on there, we talk to the men who are having the sex, not the place where it takes place," he said.
"Anything I should know about what's goin' on out there?" I asked, wondering if there was a new strain of HIV or syphilis or gonorrhea.
"Only that your boyfriend really loves you, Mike. He was so nervous when he came in here. This is all kinda new to him, isn't it?"
"Yeah, I sorta brought him outta the closet a year ago," I confessed.
"He's still not completely comfortable with the gay thing, but he's doin' great, considering he's only been queer for a year!" he laughed.
"He's very special to me in lots of ways," I confided.
"Big dick, huh?"
"Yeah, enormous!" I blurted out before I could stop myself. I was probably doing some bragging on Dave, but I guess it didn't hurt anything.
"Had to be. His type always does."
"Meaning?"
"Married, handsome, hot body, totally in love with his boyfriend," he sighed.
"Does it really show that much? I guess I'm too close to see it that well."
"The love? Oh, yeah. Written all over his face and his demeanor. The guy's crazy for ya," he said. "I'd give anything to have a hot man like that in my bed every night."
"Well, you have to keep kissing all the frog until you find your prince."
"Yeah, I guess so," he said resignedly. "If you have no further questions or clarifications for the questionnaire, I'll send you on your way. We'll call with the negative results in two weeks. If the results come back positive, you'll get a visit from one of our specialists in breaking bad news. Hopefully, you'll never see him."
"Yeah, hopefully," I rose, shook his hand, and left with a smiling Dave.
"You're some piece of work," I smiled at him as I put my arms around him and pulled him close. The elevator whirred to a stop. "I love you, Dave."
The doors opened. "I love you, too, Mike," he replied. Three gay men stood aside for us to leave the elevator. Dave kissed me full on the lips, one hand on my ass, the other between my shoulder blades, pulling me tightly to him.
"Gawd! How I love fags who know how to love each other," one of them sighed.
"Oh, get on the elevator, Mary. These married men don't wanna know about your revolving door of boyfriends," another cracked. "That's why you're here, again!"
We smiled at them. "He has a platinum card at this clinic, he's been here so many times," the third one confided. "Lord knows where he finds the gutter trash he blows," he added pushing the others on to the elevator after we'd exited.
"At the local tearooms. Where else does one find quality, bad boys? A new husband every day!" the first gay man responded as the doors shut.
"If he didn't like that anonymous type of sex so much, he would've changed long ago, and not be such a permanent fixture here," I said to Dave, shaking my head. "But, it is a wake-up call for us. You never know what you'll get when you fuck around with men you don't know. Even then, you can be surprised."
"Yeah, if you really think about it, his anonymous sex with bad boys is just as anonymous as our sex at the gym. We've been lucky," he summed.
"That we have."
We took a taxi to the airport, arriving an hour before departure. Several of our friends had offered to take us there, but it was the middle of the day on Thursday and they all worked full-time. The exception would have been Jeremy and Preston. But they were "too busy" to have answered the phone, if we'd thought to call them.
The flight departed on time. We reached cruising altitude and the air host and hostesses served drinks and munchies. After the plane had been served once, they came around for seconds and thirds. One particularly rowdy passenger had already had too many drinks when he boarded. He was demanding another, NOW. The stewardess tried to reason with him as she told him that he'd already had enough. He could have as much as he wanted after we landed in about 20 more minutes, at the airport bar. He wasn't to be put off; he became nastier.
"Sir, if you don't restrain yourself, we'll have the Canadian Police greet you when we land," she finally said evenly. She pushed the cart further down the aisle, ready to serve other passengers (or pick up their trash). We were sitting two rows in front of the inebriate.
"This is gonna get ugly," Dave muttered. "We're gonna have to help her. The male attendant's in the forward part of the plane and isn't big enough to take that guy on, but we are." I gripped my plastic cup and gulped the contents. We returned our tray tables to the upright position and looked behind us just as the drunk took a swing at the woman attendant, knocking her sprawling against the service cart. He stood menacingly over her, then, grabbed her by the hair.
"I said, give me a fuckin' drink, Bitch! Or I'll make you and this fuckin' airline fuckin' regret it!" he roared. The guy was at least six feet tall and weighed close to 240, but it wasn't muscle. Dave rose quickly and spun about. I followed on his heels.
With two strong hands, Dave grabbed the drunken passenger and shoved him back into his seat. "You move from there, again, and I'll break your fuckin' head!" Dave snarled. He turned to help me assist the clearly dazed stewardess. The man started to rise drunkenly. Dave shoved him back into his seat, again. "You don't understand English?" Dave shouted. "SIT!" and he shoved him back down, again.
"Get your fuckin' hands off me, Sambo," the drunk slurred, swatting at Dave's arms that had pinned him to his seat. The passenger behind the drunk grabbed the offender by the head and held him tightly to the headrest.
"You just don't get it, do you, Fuckface?" Dave grinned maliciously, now less than six inches from the guy's face. "You've just interfered with the functioning of an official airline employee, AND threatened the safety of this aircraft. You're in deep shit!" The guy took a swing at Dave and connected to his solar plexus. Dave had the wind knocked out of him momentarily.
I rushed in and grabbed the guy by the crotch and twisted with one hand while pushing him hard on the chest. I had a good, strong grip on his nuts from the way the guy howled. "You'll be a soprano if you so much as blink," I spat at him. He glared at me, grimaced, and tried to pull away, grabbing my bulging arms. Dave had recovered his breath enough to loosen the guy's grip on me and press the guy's hands down to the armrest, pinning them.
Other passengers were involved now, including the steward. Two passengers held his shoulders. "You have anything to bind him with like tape, an extension cord, or even a cord from a coffee pot?" The steward ran back to the galley to find something. One of the passengers volunteered the recharging cord from his shaver, another a belt. "Stand him up," Dave suggested to two of the passengers who were helping control him. "Turn him around." Dave bound his hands with the cord and hobbled his feet with the belt, but not without a struggle.
"You can't do this to me. I'm a citizen and I have rights," the drunk shouted.
"You got nothin', Fuckhead!" the copilot informed him over my shoulder. He'd appeared suddenly behind me. "Take him to the back of the plane. The captain knows we have an unruly passenger and has already alerted the airport to have the Mounties meet us as soon as we land in a secure area. You okay?" he asked of Dave, then others.
"Yeah, just knocked the wind out of me for a moment," Dave smiled. "I'm nearly as good as new already," he added, shoving the drunk ahead of him. The cabin attendants had already moved the four passengers who had been in the back of the plane to other seats.
"You can't do this to me! I'll sue your asses off!" the inebriated passenger proclaimed to anyone who'd listen.
"Shut the fuck up and listen to me, you worthless piece of shit!" the copilot whispered menacingly. "You are gonna be met by the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Under Canadian law (and we are flying over Canada now), you've committed an act of air piracy. The American Consulate will be sending a representative to the airport to assist the police and make sure that whatever rights you have remaining will be guarded. However, I know the staff at the Consulate. You'll be lucky if they don't stick your ass in jail and conveniently lose the key. The Consulate doesn't like rowdy Americans who break Canadian laws almost as much as the Canadian's dislike it. So, shut the fuck up and enjoy the ride."
"You can use my belt to tie his chest to the seat," one of the stouter passengers offered. The copilot took the offered belt and fastened it around the drunk's chest and around the back of his seat.
He turned to us and said, "If he gives you any crap, sit on him. Don't break anything, but make sure he's being a good boy. If you need any help, I'm sure you can find several other passengers who'll aid you." He got nods from several of the other men hovering nearby. "Okay, then, I'll be back to check on this miscreant every few minutes. However, I'll have to be in the cockpit for the landing. Keep this jerk strapped in and sit on either side of him. If he wiggles, convince him not to," he grinned at me. Evidently, someone had mentioned my crotch grab.
Two of the burlier passengers sat across the aisle from us. Another two sat in front of us, with frequent glances over their shoulders to be sure our malcontent was being a good boy. He knew we'd beat the shit out of him, if he acted up, again. He was a VERY good boy.
The plane landed without further adventure (with the copilot visiting us twice more), but taxied away from the main terminal to one of the maintenance buildings where we were met by several police cars and other government sedans. From the looks of things, the press had gotten wind of it, too. Two vans had satellite dishes positioned with cameras rolling.
OY VEY! So much for a quiet getaway to Vancouver!
The jet engines spooled down and the cabin door in the front opened. Two of the biggest police officers I'd ever seen walked down the aisle toward us with the copilot leading the way. None of the passengers moved. They'd already been told that they'd be escorted off the plane for questioning, and to remain in their seats until our problem boy was in custody.
"You've been a bad boy, I understand," the officer in charge smiled, addressing the man between us.
"I didn't do nothing!" the guy snarled.
"That's not the way I hear it, Sir," the officer leaned in, taking off the extension cord, replacing it with handcuffs. "Let's see, air piracy, assault on an airline employee performing her duties..."
"That's two counts of assault, Officer," Dave volunteered.
"Oh?"
"Yeah, he pushed her into the cart causing her to lose her balance and topple into it, and he pulled her hair when he insisted on another drink," Dave contributed. Others nodded assent and murmured agreement.
"Plus assault on one of the passengers. Him!" one of the passengers volunteered, pointing to Dave.
"That so?" the officer grinned at Dave. Dave nodded. "Well, well. Aren't you a piece of work?"
"You two gentleman can come out of there. We'll take him from here," the second officer said. We moved out of the way, with one of the officers holding the man's head against the headrest. I guess he thought the guy might bite Dave on the ass. Nice ass, too, I reminded myself.
"I'm sure this extension cord belongs to someone as well as these belts?" the first officer said as he unfastened the belt holding the man in the seat.
"The extension cord's mine," said one of the passengers who'd been in front of us for the last part of the trip. Two other passengers reclaimed their belts. Four more officers had crowded on to the plane and were standing at strategically appropriate places. Two of the officers were women.
"You have any carry on baggage, Sir?" the first officer asked our "friend". He nodded and indicated one of the overhead bins that now stood open. One of the officers retrieved it, and with the assistance of one other officer, escorted the drunk off the plane.
The captain said over the intercom, "If you have a connecting flight that leaves within the next two hours, please raise your hand, so we can get you off the plane first." A baker's dozen of hands went in the air. "Understand that if you don't have a ticket that says that, you'll be considered an accomplice to air piracy." One hand went down, quickly.
"The Bitch!" I spat in a whisper.
The first officer smiled. "She'll be the LAST one to be questioned and processed out. The officious ones like that who think they're better than everyone else and should go to the front of the line really piss me off." Dave and I smiled. We liked this guy already. "Those of you who helped subdue this man need to come with me, please. We'll get your statements and get you on your way. If you're traveling with someone else, have them join you." There were six of us, plus three companions who left with the officers.
As we exited the plane, we were greeted with shouted questions from the media. We ignored all of them, but the cameras were merciless in their pursuit of us.
"Which one of you subdued the guy?" one reporter shouted. We ignored him again, but several of the passengers stole a glance our direction. Shit! That surely gave it away.
"I think they've figured it out," I stage whispered to Dave as group of microphones were thrust in our faces, cameras staring at us. The police pushed the media out of the way as we walked into the secure hangar.
"The airline and the Royal Canadian Mounted Police will issue a join statement in a few minutes. Please be patient while we get statements from the passengers. You'll be briefed as soon as possible," an airline official shouted to the media. "This way ladies and gentlemen of the press. I'll tell you as much as I can, but over here." He was roundly ignored. His pleadings didn't prevent them from shouting more questions at us until the door was closed.
"Vermin!" snarled one of the officers under his breath.
The first officer who'd come on the plane (Sinclair was the name on his blue tag) took the six men (and three companions) to a room off to the left. We were individually interviewed by police officers who took our sworn statements. The dozen passengers with connecting flights were taken to the right. Other passengers were asked to wait in the central area where chairs and tables had been erected.
"Okay," smiled Officer Sinclair at Dave (after he'd brought the six of us back together, again). "Please tell me what happened from the time the accused started getting nasty. The rest of you listen carefully to what he says. If you have anything to add, make a note of it on the pad in front of you. Then, when Mister, uh..."
"Carey."
"...Mr. Carey finishes, let me know what you have to add. Okay?" We nodded. "Let's get this over with and get you on your ways, then."
Dave began his description of what had transpired on the plane. There were nods of agreement from the other passengers at several points. When Dave finished, Officer Sinclair asked if anyone wanted to add clarification."
One of the passengers raised his hand. "I heard him, the accused, say after Mr. Carey pushed him back in his seat, after the guy assaulted the stewardess, 'Get your hands off me, Sambo'. I believe in Canada we call that racial intimidation."
"That true? He said that?" Officer Sinclair asked Dave. Dave nodded, embarrassed. "If it had been me, I'd have nailed the guy with a fist in the mouth."
"I didn't see any point in giving him grounds for suing me," Dave said. "Lord knows, I thought about it, though."
The officer smiled. "Fast thinking, and very smart. We'll add that to his list of charges. Any other points of fact that we need to add?" he asked the rest of us.
"Uh, Officer, I believe the accused said, 'Get your fuckin' hands off me, Sambo'," one of the passenger's wives said with an embarrassed titter. We laughed with her. It was so strange coming from a woman of her age and obvious breeding.
"Anyone else hear that?" the officer prompted. Several of us volunteered that her version was the correct one.
"Okay, then, we'll add that correction. Sit tight. I'll get the stenographers to type this up right away, as well as your individual statements.
About ten minutes later, the statements were ready to be signed. "What's gonna happen to this guy?" I asked Officer Sinclair as he handed us our statements to sign.
He grimaced. "Probably a fine and a slap on the hands," he sighed. "But, he could get one of our favorite hangin' magistrates and get some jail time and a BIG fine. With all the other charges we're heaping on him, we might get lucky."
"That sucks," I observed.
"Yeah, don't I know it."
We read through the statements and signed them. The officer took them and checked them over for completeness. "Same address?" We nodded. He smiled. "I love it! A couple of gay men are gonna be heroes on the six o'clock news," he laughed out loud. "My brother's gay, too. He's gonna shit bricks about this! I've gotta go call him and tell him to watch the news for sure, tonight." The officer stood to leave, then said over his shoulder, "We don't need anything more from you right now, but I know the representatives of the airlines will want to talk to you. So, sit tight and I'll send them in."
We glanced at each other. "Some vacation, huh?" I smiled.
"Always fun when I'm with you, Mike! But, I think we'd better ask if we could make a couple of phone calls. I'm sure this'll be plastered all over the news tonight. Our parents will be worried sick," he predicted.
"Count on it," I sighed.
The same representative from the airlines who got nowhere with the media outside came over to us. "I wanted to thank you gentlemen for waiting for me. The press is champing at the bit to get to you guys. Are you ready?"
"And if we say, no?" Dave asked.
"Well, uh, that's your right, of course, but I was hoping you'd at least stand for photos?"
"We really need to get to our hotel. We're on vacation and would like to get it started. Dealing with a bunch of barracudas from the press isn't what I had in mind to do that. The police have our statement. They can read that," Dave smiled evenly.
Another man strode toward us, two lackeys followed at a respectful distance. "These the boys that took down the drunk?" he asked the representative.
"Yes, Sir!" the representative said meekly.
"Matt Triplett," the man said extending his hand in greeting. "I'm the Charge d'Affaire in Vancouver for the American Consulate here, boys." We shook his hand in turn. "On behalf of your government and the Board of Directors of the airline (most of whom I know personally), we thank you for acting quickly and decisively. The Canadians and your government take a dim view of air piracy, whatever disguise it takes."
"We didn't act alone," Dave allowed.
"But, you were the first to act," contradicted the Ambassador. "That's what's important here. The airline's been treating you well?"
"They want us to be part of a press event," I volunteered with a sneer.
"Fuck 'em!" the ambassador said. "This is a free country just like ours. Let 'em chew on the statements. Where you boys staying?"
"At the Parkhill," Dave volunteered.
"Bullshit! You're gonna stay with me at the Residence," he smiled graciously. We stood there with our mouths open. "Caught ya flat footed, didn't I?" he guffawed. "Come on, boys. You've done a very brave thing here. And I can keep those press bloodsuckers away at the Residence better than the Parkhill can. Or was it the Vancouver you were staying at?"
"The Parkhill, Sir," one of the Ambassador's staff offered.
"Yeah, Parkhill. So, whaddaya say, boys?"
"That's very gracious of you, Mr. Ambassador," I finally spoke. "But, this is an imposition on you."
"Bullshit! I have interlopers and political hacks staying here all the time. About time I had a couple of real heroes stay with me."
"But, you don't know what really happened on that plane, Sir," Dave parried. "It was just a drunk outta control."
"Not according to the police report, Mr. Carey, is it?" the Ambassador asked Dave.
"Uh, yes, Sir."
"I've already read the report. This guy's goin' down and I'm gonna make sure he gets hammered. We've already asked the Canadians to hand him over to us for air piracy along with a bunch of other charges. They're thinkin' about it, but I think they'll see it our way. They could always ask for extradition back to Canada if our court system doesn't nail his ass. But, we have sworn testimony from you and other witnesses that he threatened the safety of the plane. Whether or not he meant it is up to the courts to decide. But, the United States Government kinda frowns on his sorta shenanigans. This is a Federal case now, not simple assault. Extradition may take a while, but I think this is a slamdunk case. But, you never know, the Canadians could get their panties in a bunch over this and insist that they try him first, then, hand him over to us."
I looked to Dave for confirmation. He nodded, agreeing with the Ambassador.
"So, whatcha say, boys? Dinner and accommodations at the Residence? Think of it as getting some of your tax dollars back."
"Uh, Mr. Ambassador?" I ventured. He nodded that I had his attention. "Something you may not know and it could be embarrassing to you after the press finds out, which they surely will," I sighed.
"You're a couple of gay men, right?" he smiled.
"Geez! Does anything get past you?" Dave laughed.
"Not much, Mr. Carey," the ambassador smiled. "I have good people working for me. This position is a career diplomat kinda job, not all that political, but you do have to understand and appreciate the politics of situations like this. I don't see a problem."
"Under this administration? You gotta be kidding!" Dave insisted.
"They'll get over it, soon enough," the Ambassador grinned again. "I've been around long enough to know how to finesse this." He'd given this some thought, evidently. "I'm offering the hospitality of your government for a courageous act. I'm also getting you away from the press at your request." We blanched, but then, nodded. He was right, of course. We didn't want to deal with them, not for a while, anyway. "I'm sure I'll come up with other great ideas, if I'm pressed. So, whatcha say?"
We nodded. "We'd be honored," Dave smiled, shaking the Ambassador's hand.
"Look, this Mr. Ambassador horseshit doesn't cut it for me. The name's Matt when it's just us, okay?" he offered.
"And we're Mike and Dave," I suggested in return.
"Good! Now, let's get the hell outta here. The limo's outside. You'll have to run a gauntlet of photographers and the rest of the press, but the Mounties will get us there and with an escort. That's one of the perks of the job that I've always loved," he laughed.
With a smile on his face, he strode purposefully through the door into the waiting mob of reporters and flashbulbs, with us in tow. We ducked into the limousine under a hail of questions. "Later," the Ambassador said, with another of his political smiles. "There'll be a briefing at the Consulate later this afternoon. See ya'll there!" he smiled again and jumped in beside us. Shouts of "WHEN?" pursued us. "Fuckin' piranhas!" he almost snarled. "But, if we play this right, they'll be eatin' outta our hands." Matt Triplett was a pro! "I'll get the staff working on this right away. If the gay issue comes up, how do you want me to handle it or would you rather handle it?" A staff person handed him a couple of folders which he flipped through quickly.
We shrugged. We hadn't thought that far ahead. "Uh, what we need to do first, Matt," Dave paused after saying the Ambassador's name instead of title, "is make some phone calls back to the States and let our families know that we're okay. This is gonna be all over the news tonight."
"You can count on that," the Ambassador smiled. "This is big news!"
"It was just a drunk outta control," I insisted. "He said some things he'd never say sober, I'm sure."
"Probably," Matt allowed. "But, that's not gonna save his ass. People do and say a lot of things when they're drunk. Including killing people. So, don't think for a minute he's gonna get away with it. And you two need to keep to the facts. If they ask you to speculate about his state of mind or whether he really meant it, just tell them that you're not mind readers. You acted based on what he did and what he said. Got it?"
"Yes, Sir," we echoed each other.
"Now, Mike and Dave, I know I sounded harsh right then, but this is serious shit this guy's in. You aren't judge, jury, or executioner. You're a couple of guys who did what any good citizen would have done in the same circumstances. It isn't up to you to read the guy's mind," he concluded. "Make sure it comes out that way in front of the press. They'll twist it completely, if you give them a chance. I'm saying, don't give them a chance. You're an attorney, Dave. You know how this stuff could be twisted."
"I was in corporate law, not criminal," Dave defended.
"You're still gonna be the spokesman on this," the Ambassador added matter-of- factly. "Mike's a smart guy, but he doesn't have your training. They could lead him down the garden path without him being aware of it. No offense, Mike."
"None taken. And I think he's right, Dave," I agreed. "You were the first one to pounce, so you should be the one doing all the talking, anyway." Dave finally nodded, seeing that he really had no choice.
"By the way," Matt smiled, "what's up with this 'retired' bullshit. You guys are way too young to be retired. What's up?"
"Uh, Mr. Ambassador," Dave began.
"Stow that Mr. Ambassador bullshit!"
"Okay, Matt, sorry. Uh, under the terms of a lawsuit that we filed and settled out of court, we aren't at liberty to discuss the amount or reason for the settlement."
"Got 'em by the nuts, did ya?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes," Dave agreed.
"And you're both retired," Matt mused. "Both of you party to this settlement?"
"If I told you that, we'd be breaking the terms of the settlement," Dave smiled.
"Ah, I see," the Ambassador smiled. "But, you know, I have access to all kinds of information. And the press will eventually get it, too. The lawsuit that you filed and settled is still out there, even though withdrawn. Says here," he added referencing one of the folders he'd been handed, "that it was for 'outrageous, slanderous, conduct' perpetrated by your employer, Dave, with some nasty references to you as well, Mike. So, you see, whether you like it or not, you and your lawsuit are gonna be public knowledge very soon."
National news? The press will dig until they find more. What choices do they have now? Much more to come! Comments to gymhunk@msn.com