I had always thought this was a mythical club. I mean to say, who has sex in a crowded aeroplane? Is it even possible?
Well, yes it is possible. The club exists. Furthermore, it does not take too much effort to join.
Back in the late-1960s, early-1970s, the time was ripe for free love, ‘don’t give a s**t what anyone thinks’, and the hippie era. AIDS had not yet reached our shores and sexually transmitted complaints were few and far between. (We may have been hippies and whatever else, but we were clean people.)
There were few drugs getting about, people still worked for a living, even hippies worked.
I was traveling alone, flying from Melbourne to the South Pacific. Next to me sat a friendly kind of chap. He was easy to talk to. A good few years younger than I. We chatted about all manner of things before the question came up.
“Have you joined the Mile High Club?” he asked. I had to admit that I had never had the opportunity and that I thought it was myth.
“Hell, no,” he said, “It is real. Everyone needs to experience it at least once in their lifetime.” Well, that was all I needed, a little encouragement and a kind, good looking bloke.
Those little knee rugs the airlines used to provide were ideal for hiding the first contact. No one in the surrounding seats even suspected anything was going on. When the heat became a bit intense it was time to move on to the toilets. This is where the real business is carried out. This is where one becomes an inductee into ‘the Club’.
All too soon the loudspeakers were asking people to return to their seats and buckle up. I have to say, it was a great trip. The time went quickly and when the plane landed I was smiling.
I never did know his name.