I am not a geisha but I am pretty sure men at the airport think so.
Me sitting by myself trying to figure out my smart phone. A man in uniform enters, I think, "I am annoyed at you for wearing your uniform." I glance down the sparsely populated gate area at people on laptops and the instant I have the thought, "I wonder if people ever meet in airports anymore since we all have screens to keep us company," uniform man sits right next to me, with only my carry on separated us (since is was on the seat next to me and I was on the aisle.). Then he starts talking to me. He says something about my bag and keeps talking. And talking to me. He is 32, a doctor in the army and Jewish. He also has poor teeth, a slight beer belly and has missed his flight because of being drunk by himself in New Orleans at a bar called the Dungeon.
I realize he is using me for my conversation. I am not geisha.
He talks to me for hours. I know everything about him. Except his name but on his uniform is said 'Ritch". He raw away from home, blah, blah, blah. I my Larry King on and I just keep asking questions about his life. He does not inquire about me at all even after he mentions that he loves aquariums and I insert how I used to work at an aquarium. I would think that would be a great opening to learn about the pretty girl that you are using to conversationally entertain you while you wait for your standby opening on the New Mexico flight. But no, more about him. That is when I have realized I am entertainment. Free attention of an attractive young woman at the airport is what it was. I was not impressed with his doctoring because he was not attractive nor funny. But yet he kept talking to me.
I could have stopped talking and pretended I had important things to do but I am not a liar and I also have a four hour wait at the airport. And I had the secret audience of my brother sitting in the gate row in front of me, eavesdropping but not saving me from the conversation.
So he kept talking, finally, he left after I was witness three hours of a oral autobiography's.
I am not a geisha. They get paid to entertain like that.
Then there was another time, but we were seatmates on the plane and that was a lot more fun and attractive. It was fine being the geisha for that (because he was more attractive and funny) (and we kept in touch.)
Lesson learned: Geisha Heather accepts money or in lieu of cash will accept hours of attractiveness and humor.
And I am flying to Chicago twice next week, so hopefully I'll get more attractive funny patrons.