Dear Tango,
What is the best pick-up line you have ever heard?
Wondering in Worcester
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Dear Wondering,
I was just out of college and working as a Research Assistant on a clinical trial, funded by the NIH, which examined the effect of stress on lipid levels. My job was to recruit subjects for the study.
The Principle Investigator had identified a group of people who had quantifiable periods of relaxation and stress: airline pilots. Every year (and two times a year for co-pilots), Captains must go through a "check ride"; in which someone from the FAA sits in the cockpit jumpseat and makes sure the pilot is sober, relatively knowledgeable and doesn't seem like he would crash the plane.
The pilots were a fun bunch. One told me a story of standing in the door of the aircraft, greeting passengers as they boarded the plane.
"Every other person said to me, "fly safely," said Subject #7. "And I felt like saying, "I'm on the bloodyt plane, too; of course I'm going to fly safely!"
I needed 100 pilots. This was going to be fun, I thought. And I loved men in uniform. I was in heaven.
The study meant we would see the subject 4 times, drawing blood to obtain lipid levels each time. At baseline, when the pilot was relaxed; one week before the check ride, in which the pilot theoretically would feel a bit of stress; one day before the check ride, when the pilot would be super stressed, and then a final follow-up, a month after the check ride.
I trolled local airports, approaching anyone I saw who remotely looked like a pilot. I placed ads in several newspapers. I couldn't believe the response. The pilots certainly didn't need the small amount of money we were paying them for their time (and blood). For the most part they simply wanted to participate in something that would result in learning about how stress affected cholesterol. Others wanted something more.
I had taken to wearing short skirts, form fitting blouses and high heels when recruiting pilots at an airport - they were much more likely to stop and listen to what I had to say. Recruiting the first fifty was easy. Scheduling them to come in for their blood draws was a logistical nightmare, but I had a knack for keeping all the balls in the air.
My office was at the end of a long hallway. Whenever a pilot came in to have his blood drawn, Linda, the receptionist, would call and say "Tango, subject #8 (or #9 or #10, etc.) is here for you" and I would gather the necessary paperwork and make the walk down the hallway to where our victim/subject sat. I was great at small talk, making the pilots feel welcome and comfortable, fetching bottles of Evian, saltines and the like. Things were going well.
Three weeks into the study, it had become routine.
"Tango", Linda announced over the phone one day. "Subject #14 is here for you."
I gathered up his file, straightened my skirt, tried to pat down my red curly hair, and turned the corner of my office to make the walk down the hallway to greet my subject.
Have you ever experienced lust at first sight? The minute I turned the corner of my office and saw Subject #14 sitting in the waiting room, everything stopped. I felt as though I had been hit in the head with a club. The walk down the hallway took forever; everything seemed to be happening in slow motion.
He was looking at me quizzically and with keen interest when I finally reached him.
"Hi, I'm Tango," I said, holding out my hand to him. He grasped it and I felt an electric current of desire course through my veins.
His eyes, green as a cat, bore into me.
"You have the most beautiful legs I've ever seen in my life."
And that, dear Wondering, is the best pick-up line I have ever heard.
What is the best pick-up line you have ever heard?
Wondering in Worcester
*********************************************************************************************************************************************
Dear Wondering,
I was just out of college and working as a Research Assistant on a clinical trial, funded by the NIH, which examined the effect of stress on lipid levels. My job was to recruit subjects for the study.
The Principle Investigator had identified a group of people who had quantifiable periods of relaxation and stress: airline pilots. Every year (and two times a year for co-pilots), Captains must go through a "check ride"; in which someone from the FAA sits in the cockpit jumpseat and makes sure the pilot is sober, relatively knowledgeable and doesn't seem like he would crash the plane.
The pilots were a fun bunch. One told me a story of standing in the door of the aircraft, greeting passengers as they boarded the plane.
"Every other person said to me, "fly safely," said Subject #7. "And I felt like saying, "I'm on the bloodyt plane, too; of course I'm going to fly safely!"
I needed 100 pilots. This was going to be fun, I thought. And I loved men in uniform. I was in heaven.
The study meant we would see the subject 4 times, drawing blood to obtain lipid levels each time. At baseline, when the pilot was relaxed; one week before the check ride, in which the pilot theoretically would feel a bit of stress; one day before the check ride, when the pilot would be super stressed, and then a final follow-up, a month after the check ride.
I trolled local airports, approaching anyone I saw who remotely looked like a pilot. I placed ads in several newspapers. I couldn't believe the response. The pilots certainly didn't need the small amount of money we were paying them for their time (and blood). For the most part they simply wanted to participate in something that would result in learning about how stress affected cholesterol. Others wanted something more.
I had taken to wearing short skirts, form fitting blouses and high heels when recruiting pilots at an airport - they were much more likely to stop and listen to what I had to say. Recruiting the first fifty was easy. Scheduling them to come in for their blood draws was a logistical nightmare, but I had a knack for keeping all the balls in the air.
My office was at the end of a long hallway. Whenever a pilot came in to have his blood drawn, Linda, the receptionist, would call and say "Tango, subject #8 (or #9 or #10, etc.) is here for you" and I would gather the necessary paperwork and make the walk down the hallway to where our victim/subject sat. I was great at small talk, making the pilots feel welcome and comfortable, fetching bottles of Evian, saltines and the like. Things were going well.
Three weeks into the study, it had become routine.
"Tango", Linda announced over the phone one day. "Subject #14 is here for you."
I gathered up his file, straightened my skirt, tried to pat down my red curly hair, and turned the corner of my office to make the walk down the hallway to greet my subject.
Have you ever experienced lust at first sight? The minute I turned the corner of my office and saw Subject #14 sitting in the waiting room, everything stopped. I felt as though I had been hit in the head with a club. The walk down the hallway took forever; everything seemed to be happening in slow motion.
He was looking at me quizzically and with keen interest when I finally reached him.
"Hi, I'm Tango," I said, holding out my hand to him. He grasped it and I felt an electric current of desire course through my veins.
His eyes, green as a cat, bore into me.
"You have the most beautiful legs I've ever seen in my life."
And that, dear Wondering, is the best pick-up line I have ever heard.
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