Fun in Florida, Part 2: Hang Gliding, Running out of Gas, Foobies, and Smart Gay Guys

by HogWild

I love adventure. So why not go hang gliding? That’ll be a rush! No, it wasn’t – it was awesomely relaxing compared to the insane trip GETTING there.

My man is speeding in his Jeep, changing lanes at 100 mph, zipping through traffic to get us there on time. We had bims waiting for us at the hang gliding place, and now we’re late. Now we’re finally about 5 miles away from the place and then THE WORST FEELING EVER. My dude is pressing on the gas pedal – and nothing. NOTHING. Sputter. Sputter. We’re out of gas.

That’s some of the most humiliating sh!t that can happen to you. It’s like not being able to get it up. You press and push but still nothing’s happening. “Come on! COME ON!” You know what’s SUPPOSED to happen, but it won’t happen. I can’t BELIEVE this is happening – to ME! So you finally give up – defeated – and apologize to your passenger.

So we’re stuck on the freakin’ highway with no gas. We end up getting there 45 minutes late. The bims have been waiting. And 2 nubs we don’t know who were going out in our group have been waiting, too. 

So when we finally show up, you’re supposed to go through this 30 minute training exercise: how to steer, how to land, how to avoid having sharks eat your testicles when you land in the water. The instructor was like, “Uh, no time left for you guys to practice – you’ll be fine!” Yeah, I guess, since we had to go up with the instructor. It was definitely the most intimate I’ve ever been with another man. We’re were basically spooning in the air.

We get onto the boat and we’re off! It was awesome. My man had a bim he was kicking game to and this girl brought a friend for me. And she was HOT! Very pretty smile and NICE big foobies (fake boobies.) So when the instructor is like, “Who wants to go first?” without hesitation (to impress the bims) I jump up. "I’ll go!" With no training. That’s probably why I landed in a big belly flop in the ocean. Ouch. But it AMAZING. Hang gliding over the ocean, looking at Miami’s skyline, the translucent green water, and down that bim’s shirt!!! Sweeeeeeeet.

I thought that bim would be kinda scared to go up 1000 feet attached to a single plastic wing but she really wasn’t. It think that’s because she felt safe with the 2 flotation devices in her shirt. I imagined that she could eject her foobies and they pop out with little parachutes and help her land safely.

Man, EVERYONE in South Florida has fake hooters. Even grandmas. Even homeless women. I saw a woman  with a sign, “NEED MONEY FOR NEW T!TS.”

There is something very sexy and liberating about whipping along waves in a motor boat while the orange sun slowly sets against the face of a pretty girl. The refreshing clean wind flying through her hair, lifting it and teasing it, exposing her neck. It makes me feel like a man – a man who holds his woman tightly, making her feel secure in my arms as I passionately kiss the base of her neck, the back of her ear, breathe in the scent of her hair, make love to her lips, mount her, thrust, and knock her overboard into the cold ocean. Oops! “Hey! Bye! I’ll caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall you!”

Miami is a very cool city. It’s the anti-Cleveland. Hot bims. Great winter weather. Water you can go in. Downtown Miami is pretty. They have that colorful rainbow bridge. I think it’s only for gay people though. Lots of homos in Miami and South Beach. You know why? Because gay guys are smart. They go where the weather is nice or failing that, they generally live in cool cities. Not too many gays in boring places like Boise. Gay guys live in New York, San Francisco, Miami. Not as many gays in Pittsburgh. Nope, gay guys are smarter than straight guys. And if you see a gay guy in South Beach – he’s REALLY gay! Because the bims are SOOOO smoking hot. Wow! If you don’t like THESE chicks, you’ve GOT to be gay. I mean, gay nubs who live in Cleveland – they might not really BE gay. It’s possible they just haven’t been around attractive women. But in Miami – certified gay.

There was this flamboyant gay dancer in tight leotards in the street who looked like Richard Simmons. He clicked his Technicolor shoes and I wanted to go home.

So many hot bims. Once again I fell into a booty trance and followed this bim’s booty for 5 blocks. When I awoke from the booty trance I was like, “Whoa! Where am I? How’d I get here?” It’s sad but us nubs will do just about anything for the flesh fortune cookie.

If you ever have to cut the brownies, you want to do it in South Beach. You can drop bombs in the hotels and they don’t even harass you! I went into this hotel – real classy joint – I mean, you KNOW it’s classy when the lobby bathroom – the LOBBY bathroom -- has fluffy 2-ply toilet paper.

So we were out the entire night until I had to get to airport that morning. So it’s like 6:30 AM and I walk to the beach to see the sun rise over the ocean from behind the clouds. Really awe inspiring. Simple goodness. Simple and happy. Like me. It happens every day yet this was the first time in years that I appreciated this natural beautiful phenomenon. The sun’s glistening warm orange ray reflecting across the ocean. I filled my lungs with the calm and walked ankle deep into God’s ocean. And took a piss. I love this world.

For some reason when I sit at the beach alone, I get really philosophical. Like, “What is my place in this huge universe? Is it really so important to BE important? Or are we only random electrons bumping around in a controlled contained chaos?" I thought on that for a while. Then as soon as I stepped off the beach it was back to fart jokes and hooters. 

 

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