(December 29, 1997)

by Bongo Bear
(bongobear@hotmail.com)

I sat and watched perfectly healthy adults traveling on coach fares mob the airline employee standing at Gate 8. Her professionalism was as crisp as her uniform as she handled each passenger one at a time. I approached the unruly crowd from behind and waited. When my turn came, I leisurely handed over the ticket. I had assigned seating and checked all my luggage, so I didn't care whether there was any room in the overhead cargo bays. All I wanted was my seat and me in it.

I was as anxious to get to the Xena Convention in Burbank as the next person, but I saw no reason to be overly eager. I planned the trip a couple of months in advance. The tickets to the convention were already purchased. All the reservations were made. The only unknown was who was going to be my roommate at the hotel. I tried to line up several candidates, but no one would commit. I read all the excuses in the e-mails:

"$65 for tickets and no autograph from Lucy? Are you nuts?"

"I'm not going unless Lucy signs my tattoo."

"I'm not going unless Renee signs around my bellybutton. I figure if I show her my abs, she'll show me hers."

"I'm not going if Ted shows up at all."

Now the last one didn't make any sense to me at all. After all, Joxer is my hero. Shoot, my handle on the Forum is Joxer. Yes, I know, that's a guy's name and I'm a woman. Who cares? His greatness transcends gender. My friends all agree that I remind them of Joxer. Cool, huh? I wish one of those bardly types would write an Uber-Joxer story. That would be exceedingly cool.

In desperation, I finally left a post on the Net Forum: Will share a room and expenses with any female who shows up Friday at 5:00 pm at the Burbank Airport Hotel. Snorers and smokers need not apply.

When I finally made it through the queue in the gateway and into aisle, I checked my boarding pass against the little signs labeling the seat rows. Let's see: 10, 20, 21, 23, 24F. That's it! Next to the window as promised. Unfortunately, there was a small boy in my assigned seat. The kid was probably no more than six or seven years old. "Excuse me, but you're sitting in my seat," I smiled to the little boy. He looked at me, then stuck his tongue out. My left eyebrow arched upwards at the unexpected rudeness. "Ummm, you're in my seat, little man. There are people waiting behind me, so you would you please get into your own seat?"

"My mommy said I could sit here, so I'm not budging!" The little creep sneered at me.

"Well, who's your mother?" I asked testily, wondering what woman would claim this child. He thumbed behind him to a flustered looking brown-haired woman.

I spoke to her, "Would you please move your son back to his seat? He's sitting in mine."

"Can't you let him sit there? It's by the window and he gets so antsy unless he can see outside. Beside, he gets airsick so easily. Looking outside the window settles his stomach and he's only a little boy --"

I cut her off with a wave of my hand. I leaned forward, over the back of the seat in front of her, and hissed, " I don't give a damn about your kid's problems. The plane is full. There are no other seats. Move him!"

She gave me the evilest look known to mankind and gathered her poor baby into her arms. The brat sat next to his mother during the entire trip to L.A. His seat was right behind mine. But he didn't sit quietly. Oh no. The little shit pulled the folding tray down so he could pound his pudgy fists on it. Once he got that beat going, he kicked the back of my seat to another staccato rhythm. I could see a career as a percussionist in his future, assuming he lived that long. During session breaks, he punched the attendant call button repeatedly. Each time the flight attendant came to his row, he lied through his baby teeth and said he meant to hit the reading light button instead. Each time his mother said it wasn't her doing. Of course not, she couldn't be expected to control her own progeny. The only thing I despise more than bratty kids are their spineless parents.

I spent the next half-hour trading dirty looks with the family and contemplating a new market for parents traveling with small children. Yes, a complete travel package. Duct tape to shut the little dears up at the first hint of an ear-piercing wail or annoying whine. A modified pet carrier, just large enough for an average sized brat to lay his little head down for a nap. The airlines could offer a cut rate price by putting the kid carriers in the belly cargo hold, along with the rest of the household pests. I suppose that was an awful fantasy to be thinking about, but some kids simply lack the maturity to be around adults. I felt another kick in seat. I turned around and stuck my tongue out at him. That showed him.

I leaned forward in my seat, plugged the airline issue earphones into my ears, and tried to soothe my aching head in my hands. The brat thumped and bumped while his mother fussed at him ineffectively. I reached into my pocket and swallowed a Valium, hoping to sleep through the rest of the flight.

*****

The plane landed three agonizing hours later at the Burbank regional airport. BE SURE TO CHECK YOU BAGGAGE CAREFULLY. MANY PIECES OF LUGGAGE LOOK ALIKE. Right, I've seen that sign dozens of times. It's never happened to me, only to inattentive dolts. I grabbed my wheeled black duffel bag from the conveyor belt and wrestled it into an upright position. I rolled it behind me to the shuttle bus which took me to the airport hotel. The check-in went smoothly, a welcome respite from the headache inducing flight.

*****

I tossed the duffel onto one of the two double beds and zipped it open. I reached in and pulled out a short length of steel chain instead of the brightly colored underwear I favor. "What the--?" I looked in and found more interesting objects, none of which I had packed the night before: a pair of coiled, braided leather whips; manacles padded with fleece; keys (hopefully for the manacles); blindfolds; gags; and various rubber and latex appliances whose purposes I could only guess. Actually, I do know what they are for. At the very bottom of the bag was the only article of clothing: a scandalously short, leather body-hugging dress. Not my size, of course. Not my color, either. Dark brown. Obviously I picked up the wrong bag, which begged the question: who grabbed mine?

A sharp knock at the door startled me into dropping the links with a clinkety clank onto the bed. I walked to the door and peered through the peephole. I saw through the fish-eye distortion a delicate throat, surrounded by a black silk collar. Obviously a woman, but my goodness, she was tall! I checked my watch, 5:00 pm on the dot. She must be my surprise roomie. I opened the door to let her in. In waltzed, no glided, the most beautiful woman I ever laid eyes upon. She had dark brown, almost black, hair, flawless olive skin and the most intense blue eyes. I was so engrossed staring at her, I didn't notice the perky little blonde peek around the corner and march into the room right behind tall, dark and awesome.

"Hi!" the blonde said, extending her hand out for a shake. "I'm Gabrielle and this is Xena."

"Oh, right, your handles," I said.

"Handles?" they said together.

"Right, your pseudonyms on the Forum." I looked at them quizzically. Was I mistaken?

"Oh, yes, our handles," Gabrielle winked conspiratorially at Xena, who only nodded her head in agreement.

"Ummm, I wasn't expecting two roommates for the convention."

"Is that a problem?" Xena asked in a deep sultry voice. Her eyes steadily gazed into mine.

I looked at the two double beds, then back at them. "If you two don't mind sharing?"

"Of course we don't mind," Gabrielle said, sealing the deal. "Oooh, I see you found our bag of toys."

"Those are your toys?" Noticing the opened bag, "Oh, I am sorry for being nosy. It looks just like my bag. I was just unpacking when you knocked."

"Hey, don't worry about it. An honest mistake, I'm sure." Xena said comfortingly. She went out into the hall and brought in a bag. "I believe this is yours?"

I took my duffel and set it by the closet. She oh-so-gently grasped my upper arm and led me to sit upon the empty bed. She looked at me very intently. What her intentions were, I had no idea. I looked back at her briefly before breaking eye contact to find a spot on the floor far less interesting but safer. I cleared my throat to break the uncomfortable silence.

"Well," I lightly braced the palms of my hands on my thighs as I stood up, "I'll just pop downstairs and check out the dealers' rooms. I hear they are running a special on those Xena dollies and stuff," mumbling as I closed the door behind me. I hoped they kept those toys in the bag. I had no interest in trying to sleep with noise and heavy breathing and all that nonsense. Who needs it?

*****

Wow! Vendors hawked more chakrams of every size and price range than I could count down in the dealers' room. The little earrings were cute and very tempting, but that meant piercing my ears. That $300 life-sized chakram looked promising, but what would I do with it? Play a deadly game of Frisbee with my neighbor's dog? That pooch does have the most annoying habit of digging into garbage cans. Nah, I settled for the usual tourist souvenir, tee shirts. Of course, I'd be carrying a sword under my arm instead if my credit card hadn't maxed out.

I tucked the bag full of tee shirts under my arm as I looked for my room. I could have sworn room 321 was right after 319 here on the left side of the hall. Hmmm, oh that's cute. Some joker taped on the door a neatly printed hand-lettered sign, X & G's DEN OF INIQUITY. Wait a minute, that's my room! I opened the door and immediately found myself staring up at the darkened ceiling. As soon as I stepped into the room, my foot rolled on something and I landed with a breath-taking thump on my back. Feeling a bruise forming on my tailbone, I rolled onto my side and came eye level with a the glistening bulbous tip of a toy. I slowly scanned the room and saw dozens of well oiled and well-used toys scattered on the floor. If they had been real, they would be quivering and pulsing weakly from exhaustion. The damn things were more hazardous than banana peels!

As I got up from the floor, I saw and smelled the scented candles and incense burning on top of the bureau, the night stands, and even on the top of the TV. The room was so hazy with smoke, that I heard the moaning and groaning before I could see the bumping and grinding going on between the sheets. From what little I could see, most of the groaning came from the bed frame straining under the acrobatics of two deeply engaged women.

I cocked my head at the sight and muttered, "That's got to be uncomfortable." Xena had buried her face somewhere in Gabrielle's flesh. The larger woman laid snugly between the blonde's legs. One of Gabby's legs hooked itself around Xena's back. I could see the muscles of the exposed thigh tense spasmodically, rhythmically. Another foot stuck out from under the sheet. I watched the toes start to curl up. Judging from the wet smacking and slurping noises, I guessed that Xena's tongue was in the vicinity of Gabby's -- no, wait, my mistake, Xena was only sucking her toes. Kinky, if you ask me. I tapped her on the shoulder. No response.

"Ahem." They kept at it. Grinding harder than ever. The moaning picked up a notch. Gabby plastered her lips all over Xena's. I even saw tongue.

"AHEM!" They stopped long enough to take a breath.

"What?" Xena asked breathlessly as the little blonde kept nibbling at her earlobe.

Putting on a most indignant face, I said, "I distinctly remember asking for a no smoking room. Those candle and incense are just as a bad as smoking. Not to mention a fire hazard!" I crossed my arms and scowled to emphasize that I was unhappy, very unhappy with these roommates.

Xena regarded me curiously then said simply, "Fuck off."

"Hey, I'm paying for a third of this room and I expect to get what I paid for! Look at this mess." I pointed out the half-empty cans of whipped cream and jars of jams and jellies on the floor by the bed. Picking up a sticky jar I complained, "This will attract bugs. Clean up after yourselves. Geez!"

Gabrielle unlocked her lips long enough from Xena's breast to tell me to "fuck off." What a limited vocabulary.

"Fine, just keep it quiet over there," I said as I settled in my own bed and opened a book to read. I read the latest Anne Rice novel and tried to ignore the fevered lovemaking in the bed only a few feet away. Deep throaty moans punctuated the odd-numbered pages while loud gasps covered the even pages. Talk about annoying. Occasionally, they would switch positions, head to toe, toe to head. You know how it goes. Some people can't make a decision and stick with it.

I was well into the third chapter when I felt a quiver. The quivering turned into a slow roll. The dresser drawers slid open of their own accord. The Venetian blinds shook violently from side to side. The bathroom door slammed shut. Not knowing what to do, I hung onto the bed for the ride. Then the tremors subsided as quickly as they began.

"Oh Xena, you made the earth move!" Gabby said reverently.

"Yeah, ain't I great or what?" Xena said immodestly.

"Wow, I felt that! Did you guys feel that?" I said enthusiastically, having experienced my first California earthquake.

"Of course, we did. Xena is the best there is. You even felt it way over there!" Gabrielle tossed her head in my direction.

"No, no, you idiots! That was an earthquake!" I got up to look outside the window. A small crowd gathered in the parking lot as several fire trucks pulled up. A man with a megaphone shouted unintelligibly and gestured wildly to the people.

Leaving the building appeared to be standard procedure after a quake so I turned to the door. Xena finally got out of bed. Perhaps she came to her senses and was going to leave as well, but Gabby still laid there. I looked closer and realized why. Xena had just finished tying her into position and was uncoiling one of the long whips. She cracked it experimentally.

"Don't you know that you can put an eye out with that thing?" I said. Then I noticed her expression. She glared at me menacingly. She slowly stalked across the room. I put the coffee table between us. She overturned it, then kicked it away. When she came within striking distance, she raised her hand and ...

"No, God please ... don't!" I woke up with a jerk. I slapped a hand over my mouth. Did anyone hear what I just said? I looked around the cabin of the airplane. Everyone was either sleeping, reading or talking to their travel companion. No one paid me a bit of attention. Thank goodness.

The change in air pressure must have let my subconscious brain know the plane was on its final descent. Another little reminder pushed my mind into full alertness, an ardent kick from the young occupant of seat 25F. I checked my watch. Ten minutes until we hit the tarmac. I turned and gave the brat one more scowl before the landing gear bounced onto the runway.

When I arrived at the hotel, the clerk at the front desk had a message for me. The slip of paper said: Roomie will arrive at your door at 5:30 pm. Her plane is running late. I folded the message and stuffed it in my pocket.

****

5:30 rolled around sooner than I had expected. I heard the knock on the door while I was brushing my teeth. I spit out the white foam and rinsed it down the sink. Wiping my mouth with a towel, I opened the door. A smallish woman with long blonde hair and intense green eyes stared back at me. I gave her a goofy grin and waited for her to say something.

"Hi, there," she said with a huge smile on her face, then she pulled me in for a big hug. I didn't know this person, but what the hell, I returned the embrace as warmly as I could.

"Where's your luggage?" I asked her. She nodded her head toward the hall. I walked out and brought the black duffel into the room. It was unusually heavy for its size.

"What did you pack in this? Bricks?"

"No, don't be silly! It's just stuff for the weekend."

"Whatever," I muttered under my breath. People who don't travel much obviously don't know what to leave at home.

I heaved the bag onto a bed as she sat down to take off her shoes and get comfortable. I settled on the other bed with my hands cradling my head against the head board. My legs were stretched out and crossed at the ankles.

Her duffel looked suspiciously similar to mine, except that it was slightly smaller. As she unzipped the top, she said, "I have got the coolest toy to show you. I bought one of the ten inch ones."

"No! Not another toy!" I leapt off of the bed and backed away from her, my eyes wide with fear. As she reached into bag, I ran for the door. I stopped struggling with the knob long enough to unlatch the chain and throw the door open. As she watched me tear down the hall, she said to herself, "Just my bad luck, I get stuck with some psycho for a roomie! What's gotten into her? It's just my new Xena dollie."

FINIS

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