A Phone Sex Operator Walks Into A Bar

When I was twenty-two, I lived in South Florida.

It's a great place to be a young woman. While your body is still young and firm, you always get the perfect weather to show it off while pretending you're only wearing so little because it's so hot out. What's more, your youth and vitality are a sharp contrast to the retirees lounging in beach chairs near where you lie on a blanket in all your sun-sweet juiciness.

On one particularly blistering afternoon at the beach, I wrapped my sarong around my bikini clad hips (ok, it was a towel with Mickey Mouse on it, but sarong sounds sexier) and sauntered off to the nearby pier, where there were a few shops (I needed to buy a sarong) and a bar.

Being the parched girl I was on this hot day, I perched myself on a stool at the outside bar and ordered something virgin as I eyed a young man reading a comic book on the beach.

As is so often the case where women and booze are found under one roof.. er, umbrella, it wasn't long before I was approached by a stranger.

"My G-d, you're an Amazon."

I took a bracing breath and turned, ready to lash at the voice behind me with some comment about originality and calling a tall, large breasted woman "Amazon." As I say, I turned, and I was ready, but then, I didn't. It was one of those rare moments in my life when I was surprised into silence.

Standing next to me was, without a doubt, the largest man I'd ever seen in person. He was huge! I didn't even come up to his shoulders. My smart assed comment slipped from my mind like an extra large condom from Dubya's dick.

As my eyes continued up and up, trying to focus on his far away head, I considered forgiving him for the lame comment. The air must be thinner all the way up there, he couldn't possibly be getting enough oxygen to be at his wittiest.

"You're not exactly Lillipution yourself," I observed, my neck craned back for perhaps the first time since third grade. "How tall are you anyway?"

The stranger smiled. It was the same strained smile I recognized from all the times I'd been asked the same question. He answered with a well rehearsed tone, "I'm six eleven stadning up, nine inches lying down."

Moments later, I excused myself from his company. Despite what I do in private, my public persona has always been respectable and dignified. I didn't think being picked up in a bar was an acceptable practice to begin with, but especially not by someone who announces the size of his penis to strange women.

I did however go straight to my car and right the line down, so I could use it on the phones.

"How tall are ya baby?"

(pretend to listen to answer)

"Oooh, nice, and how tall are ya lying down?"