The Mile High Club connotes adventure, risk, secret sexcapades and membership to an exclusive club. Initiation predominantly occurs in a closet-sized honey bucket reserved for the elimination of odiferous bodily fluids known as The Lavatory.
Yea, that’s hot. Every girl’s dream.
Much like diners and diapers, how did these two seemingly unrelatable topics ever get joined together? Glad you asked.
Mile High Club take-off
Shockingly enough, it was a young pilot who was credited with starting the mile-high club; none other than 21-year-old Lawrence Burst Sperry, who invented the autopilot in 1914 and quickly discovered it freed him up to attend to other *ahem* matters.
Pilots have been indebted to him ever since.
Now I’m not going to deflate whatever romantic notions you have about the cockpit and the men (and women) who occupy it, namely because I already did that in another post which you can read here: Cockpit Curiosity.
But I will say if joining the Mile High Club is on your bucket list, then by all means aim high.
Date a pilot.
The private glass room at the pointy end of the airplane with cities lit up below like Christmas is a far sexier place for mile high shenanigans than banging body parts in a dirty honey bucket, which is gross whether you’re a mile high or at the county fair.
Better yet, forego the emotional cost of dating a pilot and pay for the experience on any one of the private flights offered for precisely this reason.
Given a mile above the earth is calculated at 5,280′ you don’t even have to be on a commercial jet to qualify. Heck, just layover in Denver, CO, the mile-high city.
There’s even an entire website devoted to this named, oddly enough, Mile High Club.
In today’s post-9/11 era, it’s actually in your best interest not to attempt entering a lavatory together on a commercial jet.
You just might end up on the terrorist watch list.
The Lure of the Airplane Lavatory
I’m not sure how the airplane lavatory became shrouded in such mystery and allure.
It’s not just the premier gateway to the Mile High Club but a whole other dimension where things are not what they seem to be.
The doorknob ceases to be a doorknob.
The lavatory signage reading: PUSH HERE disappears as if written in invisible ink.
Passengers pull out ashtrays and push on closets and walls as if Hogwart’s Platform 9 3/4 express will suddenly materialize and grant access.
Day after day the lavatory exerts a strange and irresistible gravitational pull. People fall out of their seats one after another like lemmings and march en masse toward the lavatory.
This mass migration most often occurs when the flight attendants announce they are beginning inflight service.
There are always those daredevils who either slink forward or venture boldly through the sheer curtains of first class into the otherworldly lavatory of the elite, tempted by the forbidden.
You know the type: The rules don’t apply to me.
Yes, they heard the announcement to use the lavatory in the cabin in which they were seated.
But surely that’s just a ruse to keep coach passengers out of first class. Right?
Wrong.
Policing the First Class Lavatory
Post 9/11 there were terrorist attempts very few people either knew about or remember.
The lavatory offers the one thing on an airplane nowhere else does:
Privacy.
Privacy to do your business, do someone else or do business you shouldn’t be, like smoking pot or building a bomb.
The first class lavatory is located where? In first class. And where’s first class?
Near the flight deck.
An incident involving a number of coach passengers occurred on an international flight:
They kept coming forward to use the first class lavatory.
It was discovered they each had separate components that, when put together, made a BOMB.
That’s right, my friends. Coach passengers were assembling a bomb in the first class lavatory near the flight deck.
BAM! Security regulations were handed down to flight crews nationwide.
This is when flight attendants started policing the first class lavatory, not because you don’t “belong.”
My, it pisses people off when we do our job.
Such entitlement.
Such attitude.
Such pleasure to send those people right back where they came from.
Buh-bye now.
This is why you see flight attendants standing guard when the flight deck door is opened during flight.
Don’t try to approach. You might get tackled.
This is why you best rethink trying to join the Mile High Club in a commercial airplane lavatory.
More than one person in a lavatory might put you on the FBI’s Watch List.
As for the mysterious, otherworldly dimension offered by the lavatory?
A doorknob is just a doorknob.
An ashtray is just an ashtray.
A lavatory is a just a mile high honey bucket, not access to an elite club.
Stop watching so many fantasy movies. Go read a book. Preferably mine.
Just don’t try to bring it in the lavatory with you.
The MH Club seems like Bigfoot or Elvis. You hear stories and the likes but no the one I know is a member. I’d need more leg room or lose 50lbs…
Tony G