THE MILE-HIGH CLUB

By Avis Torkelson

On his flight back from Dayton, he told us with no small amount of glee, he had inducted a comely stewardess into the Mile-High Club.

Oh, not that Mile-High Club, he explained. The other one, where you seduce a flight attendant into giving you extra snacks.

Then he leaned back in his chair until all those shiny little packages of pretzels and peanuts began spilling from his pockets, and watched us quietly smolder with envy.

(Author Avis Torkelson has nothing going for him.)