The snowstorm ended up being a pretty big deal. We had to cancel the shows for the rest of the week. We were stuck on the bus for most of the night and then we heard the plows coming through to save us. Thank god, I was totally getting cabin fever. We went straight to the airport, well to the hotel in the airport since there were no flights going out. So after being stuck in a bus with Justin for what seemed like days I went to being stuck in a hotel room with him. It wouldn’t have been that bad except that he was in such a cranky mood because all his shows were cancelled and his shows have never been cancelled before. I don’t think it’s as big of a deal as he makes it out to be. I mean, it sucks, I get that, but he acts like he won’t have a million girls screaming no matter when he does the show.
Apparently everyone else is driving to New York. Our buses got separated somewhere in the blizzard and since I was on Justin’s bus and he’s the superstar he gets to fly… and so do I. I’m not complaining, except once again, he’s a little crazy. He has issues with flying commercial flights. You would think it’s because he’s a spoiled celebrity and needs a private jet but it’s really just that he’s obnoxious and scared of his own shadow.
“Would you relax?” he was tapping his fingers against the armrest and seriously driving me crazy.
“I don’t like flying,” he answered as the flight attendant came over the speakers explaining the evacuation procedures.
“Really? I had no idea.”
He took a deep breath and waved me away as he grabbed the pamphlet explaining what to do. I’ve never seen someone pay so much attention to this part of the flight, especially not someone who has flown as much as he has. I laughed and he gave me the dirtiest look I’ve ever seen, “Shut up Dallas.”
I think it’s safe to say he is a complete nut case.
“It’s not that scary, I mean there’s thousands of flights every day.”
“I don’t like commercial flights.”
“I know you like your champagne and lobster.”
“I also like the fact that I know everyone on the flight and there’s no shady people in the bathroom making bombs out of baking soda and vinegar.”
“You’re a little paranoid, no?”
“No. It happens.”
“OK,” he’s a lot paranoid, not just a little. I figured I’d change the subject so he doesn’t piss me off too much, I mean it is a long flight. “What are we going to do in New York?”
He looked at me like I was a complete idiot; “We have a concert for HBO Dallas, where have you been?”
Sometimes I want to slap him and one of these days I just may do it, “In three days smart one.”
“Yeah,” he nodded his head, “I don’t know we could uh… I don’t know.”
“OK,” I laughed, very decisive.
He took a deep breath and randomly let out an “Ahhh,” way too loud. Loud enough that the old business man in the row next to us shot him a very dirty look. Justin laughed, “He thinks I’m crazy.”
“You are crazy.”
“That is true.”
“What are you AHHing about?”
“I’m stressed.”
“Me too,” I answered with a laugh.
“Why are you stressed?”
“HBO.”
“Me too.”
“Wow, no way!”
He threw his head back as he laughed and ran his hands through his hair, “You don’t need to be nervous about that, it’s just a show.”
“Neither do you, you’ve been doing it since you were 2.”
“Two? Really?” he asked sarcastically, “You’re right, I’ve been putting on shows in front of millions since I was two years old.”
“Why don’t you just sing? That relieves stress for you doesn’t it?”
He glared at me, “Why don’t you just dance?”
“You know I’m not one of those crazy people that always dances.”
“And you know I’m not one of those crazy people that always sings.”
That one made me laugh. He clearly is always singing or humming or tapping on something, “Yes you are.”
“I am not.”
“Justin you are always singing or tapping or humming or snapping or something.”
He noticed he was tapping his foot as we were talking and quickly stopped, “Fuck you.”
I laughed, “OK,” I don’t know why he gets insulted so easily. It’s not really an insult it’s just a fact.
“You know what relieves stress?”
“What?”
“Sex.”
Why would he say that? “Don’t look at me.”
He laughed and threw his head back again, it’s good to see him back to his annoying self. “I’m not looking at you, I’m just saying sex relieves stress.”
“Good to know, thank you.”
“It’s been a while huh?”
“Excuse me?” he’s so rude, it’s like he doesn’t think before he speaks.
He laughed again, “It’s been awhile since you’ve had sex huh?”
I gave him a look; I’m a little surprised that he would repeat it. I’m not too surprised actually. “Yeah, ok, it’s been awhile. But it’s not a big deal, I don’t get the big deal.”
“With sex?”
I nodded my head.
“You don’t get the big deal with sex?”
“Yes Justin, I don’t get the big deal with sex.”
He looked at me like I had ten heads, “Have you had sex?”
“Yes,” I laughed.
“I don’t know, I’m not here to judge,” he held his hands up, “You could be one of those girls that’s saving herself…”
“No,” I cut him off, “I’m not.” As if this plane ride couldn’t get even more uncomfortable. I’m stranded here, there’s nowhere to go and I’m stuck in the window seat while he’s planning on talking all about my sex life, or lack thereof.
“So you’ve had sex, just really bad sex?”
“No,” I laughed, “You’re just prying aren’t you?”
“No, I didn’t know you’ve suddenly become so private.”
“I’m not private. It’s not bad sex; it’s just not… as good as everyone makes it out to be. I wouldn’t die if I could never have sex again.”
“What?” he asked out of disbelief, “You need to get fucked.”
“Gosh J,”
“I’m serious Dallas. You don’t need any of that weak shit. You don’t know what you’re missing.”
She shook her head but I really don’t think she realizes it. There is no possible way that she has had good sex if she can sit here and tell me with a straight face that she doesn’t see the big deal. I feel bad.
“Can you turn a movie on?”
“No, we’re in the middle of a conversation.”
“OK,” she answered softly and grabbed her IPOD from her bag.
“We really need to talk about it,” I answered with a laugh; I don’t know why she’s trying to avoid it. “Let’s get caught up here. You’ve had sex.”
“Yes.”
“And it sucked.”
She laughed, “It didn’t suck. It’s just not like mind blowing, never could live without it good. I just don’t get the big deal.”
“You don’t get the big deal,” I repeated.
“What do you want from me?” she asked with a laugh.
“I don’t know. I just don’t get it. I don’t get how you can have sex and not like it. How many guys have you been with?” Maybe I shouldn’t have asked that.
“You’re just like… going there huh?”
“Yeah,” I laughed, “Never mind, it’s cool.”
“I don’t care. I was with my ex-boyfriend for 4 years.”
“So one?”
She nodded her head.
I nodded my head.
“So you shouldn’t write sex off completely just because one dude doesn’t know what he’s doing.”
She laughed, “You’re such a jerk.”
“I’m just saying,” I laughed, “You should try it with someone else.”
“I’ll get right on that, thank you.”
“Just looking out for you Dallas,” I slapped her leg and she rolled her eyes.
The flight was actually bearable. I hate flying even when it’s a private jet but I absolutely hate flying in a regular plane. At least with Dallas the flight goes by fast enough because she doesn’t shut up.
Landing is always my biggest problem. That’s the point where most of the deadly accidents happen. I’m not really in the mood to die.
We landed safe, which is always a plus, and went straight to the hotel. I lasted maybe ten minutes in my room before I went to find Dallas.
“What do you want to do?” she answered the door with the question.
“I don’t know,” I walked past her and jumped on the bed, “Are you hungry?”
“Not really.”
“OK,” I stopped to think of something else to do but I honestly can’t think of anything. I don’t want to go out, it’s getting late. But I don’t want to go to sleep either. I need to do something to get my mind off the fact that I’m doing a live show filmed by HBO in a few days. The fact that I’m in New York City where it’s taking place is freaking me out. “We could have sex. Get rid of the stress.”
She laughed, not exactly the reaction I was going for. It was a joke, I wasn’t serious so I guess that should be the reaction I was going for, “Or we could eat cake.”
“We could, but I thought you weren’t hungry.”
“True. We could play a game.”
“We don’t have any games. What game? Spin the bottle?”
She laughed again; I don’t know what the hell is going on that I’m saying this shit, “What is wrong with you?”
“I have no idea,” I laughed and ran my hands through my hair. I do that when I’m nervous, I don’t know why I’m nervous. I hope she doesn’t realize that it’s one of my nervous tendencies, “Yeah, want do you want to play? We can call down.” I sat up, “Dude they have Playstation. Dance Dance or Guitar Hero?”
“Oh, I so want to kick your ass in Dance Dance Revolution.”
“Yeah,” I laughed, “I’m a professional dancer Dallas.”
“So am I.”
“I thought you weren’t. I thought you weren’t a dancer. Wasn’t that your whole thing? You can’t go on tour, you’re not a dancer.”
“Yeah but you trained me to be a dancer. Now I’m a professional,” she said with that cocky smile she has, “So now that I’m trained I’m ready to kick your ass. Make sure they send up two pads so we can battle.”
“I will. We have to bet on it.”
“Yeah, for sure. What does the winner get?”
“Sex.” There I go again. I seriously don’t know what my problem is. I think it’s just been so long I need to get laid or I’m going to be thinking about it until I do.
“What is wrong with you?” she laughed, “Do you want me to go down and get you like a prostitute or something? I mean I could just announce it outside and get a group of fifteen year olds willing to take care of your needs.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“You’re disgusting. Stop stalling. Call down. Get me some cake too."
“And some condoms.”
“Stop!” she yelled with a laugh and threw a pillow at me, “Go take a cold shower.”
“I’m fine Dallas, I’m fine. I’m just fucking with you.”
“Yeah, I know. But you really should take a shower because you’re clearly in need, whether it’s psychological or not. But the fact remains that you’re not getting any from me so figure it out Superstar.”
“What makes you think I would want any from you in the first place?”
Dallas gave me a look and rolled her eyes, “Please Justin, I’m not an idiot.”
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