Gurney's Inn
December 26, 2012

Jerry's Ink


I wrote this column a while ago. It seems to be everyone's favorite. Iinclude it in the "Best Of" section because although many years have gone by, the giant ass of my seatmate still remains a vivid frightening memory.


I flew to Chicago Monday on business. An associate met me at LaGuardia airport. We both commented at how old and dingy the American Airline terminal looked. Then he reminded me that this was the fifth anniversary of The Trip from Hell.We both remembered and we both can finally laugh about it.

It started in East Hampton. I was going to make a presentation for the advertising account of the British Virgin Islands on the island of Tortola.

I had to catch a plane for San Juan and connect to a flight to Tortola. I missed that flight and every other flight on that trip because the airline business is so totally screwed up. Since the flight to San Juan was at noon, I decided to leave East Hampton at 7 AM, giving myself plenty of time to catch my plane, or so I foolishly thought.

I arrived at the airport two and a half hours before my flight. I still had to run to get on my plane in time. The airport was filled with thousands of people trying to get their boarding passes all at the same time. Only five or six clerks were there to service thousands of passengers. Since most of the flights were overseas, one woman from American Airlines was just screaming, "You must have your passport ready."

She screamed at a young man standing in front of me, "Do you have your passport ready?"

"But I'm going to San Francisco," was his confused answer.

It took me one hour and 15 minutes to get a boarding pass, another 45 minutes at security, and then a dead run to my gate. So I was out of breath as I stumbled on board with my carry-on bags and I worked my way down the aisle looking for 24A, my window seat.

That's when I spotted her. She was a woman in her early 30s. She was big. Very, very big. But it wasn't her shoulders and breasts and waist that amazed me. It was her ass. Three quarters of her ass occupied seat 24B, but the other one quarter of her ass was on my seat, 24A.

She got out into the aisle so I could get into my seat.

I couldn't take my eyes off of her ass. Then she sat down and her ass was on my leg, my lap and hip. You must understand, I was trapped in my seat. Then I started to think, should I introduce myself? Should I comment on it? Should I say, "Miss, that's one amazing big ass you have there. We're going to be flying for three hours and 55 minutes and it's clear I am going to be in constant contact with your ass, so let me tell you it is an amazing ass. It is the Godzilla of asses."

My mind was racing. Should I ignore it? Should I try to synchronize my breathing with hers for maximum comfort? There was no way to bring down the armrest because her ass was in the way.

I fidgeted for five minutes under her ass and finally found my seat belt.

Now we were about to take off when the pilot announced that the plane had a mechanical problem and we would have to wait for another plane to be brought out to take us to San Juan. Just enough time to miss our connection to Tortola.

An hour and a half later I was on another plane with the same seatmate and the same ass. The flight was a nightmare. The woman, perfectly comfortable with the seating arrangement, spent the entire flight reaching into a Starbucks bag and eating cakes and buns. I was fearful that if her ass got any bigger I would be pushed out of the window and sucked out of the plane.

When we were a few minutes out of San Juan I realized that I had been married to the beautiful Judy Licht for 23 years and in all those years I hadn't touched Judy's cute butt for the sum total of time I was spending touching this stranger's ass. The thought made me giggle uncontrollably and the woman stopped munching on cake to give me a dirty look.

When I got off the plane I realized that I had my Blackberry in my right-hand pocket, which her ass was perched on. I said a thankful prayer that I hadn't received a message during the flight. My Blackberry vibrates when I get a message and if it had gone off and vibrated under her ass at any time during the flight I might be rotting in some San Juan jail. Or, if she liked it, my seatmate would have picked me up and carried me off in the same way King Kong carried off Fay Wray.

  1. print email
    Anatomy Is Everything
    December 29, 2012 | 12:59 PM

    Jerry … What a great story about your Big Ass plane ride. I could just imagine you, of all the people I know, going through that experience. Absolutely hysterical!

    Reminded me a lot of my Big Boobs flight from LAX to JFK in 1986 after my divorce.

    Having already taken my window seat in an AA two-seat red-eye situation (it was around 10:30 p.m. and I was wiped out from the day’s client events), a middle-aged woman with one of the largest bosoms I’d ever seen and old enough to be my mother, said Excuse me! and took the aisle seat right next to me.

    As a polite gentleman but confirmed big boobs fan since childhood, which I still am and don’t yet understand, I snapped right to attention (LOL) and helped her with her stuff.

    She was modestly dressed in casual busines attire and a bit buxom, but there was no denying the amplitude and girth of her disproportionate upper endowments. Simply off-the-charts!

    Of course, I immediately started planning my strategies about how to score with this woman once we landed in NYC (also had/have an older woman thing going on too), but soon fell asleep and everything was back to normal.

    Right up to the point when I woke up and realized that her giant left boob (I swear as an expert, at least an E or F-cup) was resting directly on the top of my hand on the armrest between us as she read a magazine. Now what to do?

    I politely pulled my hand out but could tell that she somehow knew then, and all along, where I was at. Maybe because I was constantly staring at her bosom?

    Anyway … We eventually shared a cab back to town. I was going to my place on East 39th and she was going to East 65th. Needless to say, I called in sick to the office that morning and spent the day and next night on East 65th.

    No cell phones, but one of the best days of my life!

    Hope you and your readers enjoy this true story. BC

    Bill Crandall
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