picture it, if you will: Warner Robins, GA 1996. Our heroine is but a 21-year-old lass. Living with Her First Real Love, or so we thought at the time. A dog is her only companion, as Her First Real Love is always either golfing or working. No friends in Georgia to speak of. A job at Crapplebee's, which is conveniently located across the street from the Southland Station apartment complex, where she lives. This girl spends all her time either in her apartment, with her dog, listening to two albums: Alanis Morissette - Jagged Little Pill and DMB - Crash, or at the Crapplebee's. To say that Warner Robins is boring would be an understatement. The lifeblood of the town is Robins Air Force Base. Ergo, the lifeblood of all the businesses in the town depends on the men and women of that base. So, the Crapplebee's sees its fair share of Air Force personnel. Very rarely are there any cute boys of note. Even with the uniform. It's not that our heroine is considering straying from the First Love of Her Life, it's just that she'd like to be able to look at a pretty fly boy or five. And then, one rainy afternoon, a table of not one, not two, not three, but SIX adorable flyboys come into the local bar and grill. They're seated, naturally, in her section. The manager on duty that night is the one who will not let you go to your locker for any reason. So, if you need your *ahem* ladyproducts, it had better be on your person when you go on the floor. So, I'll just say here that on this particular day, Midol was our heroine's friend and leave it at that. Happy to have something to focus on (the six boys in loin-quivering flight suits), our girl walks over to the six-top. She greets them. She smiles. She might even bat her eyes once or twice. She lays the bev naps on the table, reaches into her apron to pull out her book and a pen, looks earnestly at the table with pen perched at the ready. And then, an odd feeling overtakes her. As the words "what can I bring you boys to drink" escape her lips, she looks down towards her book. Horror creeps over her face, spreading crimson from ears to cheeks. "MY GOD!", her brain screams "THAT'S NOT A PEN!"