Interpolated

Note: this story is pure hearsay. There is no evidence that this ever happened, and given the fact that my dad is the source, the guys could have been any jokers pretending to be Interpol. For the sake of simplicity and comedy, I'm going to say it was really them. But it's totally possible and maybe even probable that it wasn't. In short, I'm scared of Carlos D. Please don't hurt me, you wiry and scrappy man.

That said: my dad, who is cooler than I am, and also a cultural spy, related the following story to me. It is about the slutty boys of Interpol. It was prefaced by the question, "Do you know this band - Inter-pole?" which was answered with "Yes, dad, I know Interpol." The story goes as follows:

My dad - Eastern European features, gray-white hair, 5'3", but a man of stature - was sitting on a United Airlines flight. In front of him sat two German women in their twenties. Kitty-corner sat the boys of Interpol. Everyone was quietly reading magazines and talking to their friends. The flight took off from Heathrow. The girls began to drink. Interpol began to drink - particularly, said my dad, "the blonde one, with the English accent," - Paul Banks. They began to drink with such fervor, with such determination and, almost, loyalty, that the plane staff gave them all free miniature plastic bottles of cognac. Everyone was drunk, especially the aforementioned Blonde One. The German girls began to look less Bratwurst-fed, and more Aryan Nations. The Blonde One began to flirt with one of the girls.

A couple hours into the flight, Interpol was wasted, particularly the Blonde One. The German girls were wasted. German Girl #1 was touching hands with the Blonde One. German Girl #2 was scowling. "What do you do?" GG1 asked the Blonde, stroking his hand.

"I'm in a pop band," he said.

"Oh, I like pop music!" she said, brightening, grasping his hand tightly. "Which one?"

"Interpol."

"I haven't heard of you. Are you good?"

"I think we're pretty good," he said. "We're about to play at this ---------" (dad's memory is vague here) "for fourteen thousand dollars."

"Oh," said GG1. She got out of her seat, knelt in the aisle and kissed the Blonde on the mouth. She remained in the aisle, making out with the Blonde, for ten to twenty minutes. Between kisses, the two of them giggled and whispered. German Girl #2 looked perturbed. So did Carlos D.

"Let's go to the bathroom," said the Blonde.

"OK," said GG1. The couple held hands. Blonde began to step into the aisle.

"Hey, hey - c'mon," said Carlos D. He grabbed Blonde by the foot and yanked him back into the seat. GG1 laughed. She knelt back in the aisle and continued to make out with Blonde.

"Let's get a hotel room tonight," said Blonde.

"I can't," said GG1. "I'm visiting New York to see my sister's new baby. I'm staying with her."

"Let me stay with her, then," said Blonde.

"No, I can't - her apartment is thirty square foot. There is no room for me, let alone my friend - and then you? No. Just call me tomorrow, and we can figure it out."

"OK," he said. They kissed again and giggled. Carlos D looked forlorn. GG2 looked furious. The plane flew for three or so more hours. There was more kissing and giggling and more drinking. The lights were turned down and there were noises and laughter in the dark. Every time GG1 went back to her seat, the whole row would quake back for a second. My dad tried to get some sleep, but he couldn't.

The plane was held for an hour at JFK. Everyone looked cranky and restless. Finally, passengers were told to disembark. Interpol got up and removed their bags from the overhead. So did the German girls. GG1 stood next to her luggage, which was on her seat. She looked over at Blonde Mr. Banks. GG1 had a good twelve inches on Paul Banks. She looked down at him.

"You're a tiny man!" she crowed, still drunk. He looked up at her in surprise.

"What?" he said, also drunk.

"You are so short! You are too short," she said.

He paused and stared at her. "What? Fuck off."

"You should never hit on girls sitting down," she advised him loudly, through her thick German accent. "You know? You shouldn't hit on girls sitting down!"

"Fuck off," he said. "Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off."

"Why?" she laughed, but looked upset. "You are - "

"Fuck off," he said. "Fuck off."

"I guess this means we won't see each other today," she said cheerfully.

"Fuck off," he said. "Fuck off."

"OK," she said. "I will fuck off." She moved ahead, allowing several passengers to get between them.

"Fuck off," Paul Banks mumbled. Carlos rolled his eyes. German Girl 2 pushed past the rest of the passengers to catch up with her friend.