this brings back a funny memory… whenever a member of my social circle was going overseas i would be asked to drive them, the only one of us inner city kids with a car, i would oblige. my friend petra and i would always stand on the balcony of the airport, looking down through glass as they boarded at the gate having passed through customs, and would would give them a goodbye flash of our breasts, over two or three years it happened so often that security at the airport would just laugh when we walked through the door. true story.
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