Filipo Penderson, Air Force ace pilot and flight instructor of some
    fame among his contemporaries, most of whom were now like Filipo,
    right around the age of 80 or so, limped into the neighborhood coffee
    shop as he did every morning.

    As he sat at his table, sipping on his cup of hot Starbucks, in came
    a good looking gal who sat down next to him. She looked at the Air
    Force pin he always wore over his left breast pocket and spoke. "Hey,
    that’s a beautiful pin. Are you a pilot?"

    He answered, "Well, you are kinda beautiful, too, and, yes, I’m a
    pilot all right. I started flying with a Piper Cub when I was still a
    kid. Then came an Aeronca, and next there was an old Stearman. Near
    the end of World War II I flew B-17s, and when Vietnam came along,
    I was into B-52s. When my time was up in Vietnam I came back to
    the ZI and taught lots of new pilots how to get off of the ground
    and stay in the air. After I retired from the Air Force I went with
    American Airlines until I hit 65. Now I do a little cloud-busting
    on weekends just for fun."

    "Yes, I suppose I am a real pilot. And… what are you?"

    Said the pretty lady; "I’m a lesbian. All day long I think about
    beautiful women – when I get up in the morning until I hit the
    sack at night. I think about ‘em when I shower, when I eat meals,
    when I watch TV. Whatever I do, it makes me think about them."

    There they sat, neither one of them speaking any more. The old pilot
    kind of rolled his eyes and wrinkled his nose; all with a puzzled
    look overall on his well-lined face.

    In walked a young man. He picked up some Starbucks from the counter
    and sat down next to the old fellow on the other side. Seeing that
    Air Force pin on Penderson’s jacket, the young man asked him,
    "Air Force, huh? Are you a pilot?"

    "Well, I was pretty sure that I was, son, but I just now found out
    that I’m really a lesbian."