Field Trip

Check out my piece on the Flip today.  Click through on the image below.

The room smells like chicken chow mein.  “Do you mind sitting over there while we finish lunch?” he asks, a little fairy with glasses sitting in front of a plate of greasy Chinese food, a plastic fork in his hand.

Countless girls sit in cream plastic folding chairs, none of them a day over 21.  I need to ramp up my eye cream regimen, or perhaps start falling asleep in bathtubs filled with Botox.  Someone passes around a chart filled with names and agencies and ages.  Eighteen, nineteen, eighteen, twenty-one, eighteen, twenty, nineteen.  Some poor sucker has actually cited herself as twenty-six.  A model dinosaur…

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