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On the way to the Contest

SATURDAY, MAY 28, 2022

 

cDudeO THERE I WAS, minding my own business, driving north on I-5* out of Portland. I was on my way up to Tacoma (JBLM to be precise), to attend the Mr. Military Muscle contest.

I had been asked to attend as a representative of the media, so I could write an in-depth exposé of the event. So, armed with my trusty Press Pass, I was on my way.

It's not a long drive from Portland to Tacoma, a couple of hours basically, but as is my wont, I decided to pull off the freeway and get a PayDay and a coffee, as well as tend to any physical urges I might have. (Admittedly, while I had been driving, I had been fantasizing about the upcoming contest, and the panoply of muscle that would be on display there.)

So yeah, I had urges.

Fortunately, the gas station-slash-mini-mart was equipped with a handy dandy restroom. It was a single-occupant restroom. I entered.

"Whoa, big boy! You ever hear of knocking?" the shirtless hunk at the mirror twisted around at me as soon as I opened the door.

"Whoa!" I was startled. "Ex-SQUEEEEZE me, but... YOU'RE the big boy, not me! And 'sides... you ever hear of locking the door when you're taking care of busine... I mean... selfies?"

The dude was stunningly gorgeous, manly, muscular, and... oh fuuuuuuck. If I had a reason to tend to my urges before, I definitely needed to tend to them now. He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. He eyed me up and down, smiling.

"Hey, you're that crack reporter Internet muscle writer, Sean Reid Scott, aren't you?"

I didn't know how he recognized me. I'm world-famous, but only in print, not by my mug. "Uh, yeah. Sorry, man. I'll just wait outside." I started to back out the door, trying to convey humility and embarrassment.

"Nonsense," he grinned. "I kinda get the feeling you weren't coming in here to pee, man. You weren't by any chance stopping in here to tend to any physical urges, were you?"

Fifteen minutes later we both exited the restroom. The dude was also heading to JBLM to watch the contest. Seems he was in the Army and wanted to meet his idol, Captain David McAllister. And well, in a few hours, the two of us would be sitting in the Press section (he as my guest) in a huge hangar at JBLM, watching the weigh-in for the contest. Read all about it: the next chapter of THE CAPTAIN AND HIS PRIVATES.

 

* For you Californicators, let's just settle something, okay? It's simply "I-5", not "The 5." The article "the" is inappropriate, inadvisable and basically... incorrect. K? Just: I-5.

 

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