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Aug 1, 2008

The worst places for public sex

BY Brian Josepher

A story the other day caught my eye. A young couple was caught copulating in a New Jersey Ikea. According to the male member of the couple, Ikea has become the “sexspot,” or the hotspot for public acts of sex amongst his generation.

Ikea apparently is the new Walmart.

To me, Ikea, or Walmart, just sounds uncomfortable. That started me thinking. What are the worst places for public sex? This is one columnist’s opinion.


The smell of moth larva wafting over the exhaust system. The aisles of junk piled upon junk. The ubiquitous yellow smiley faces. The discount rates advertising the strangest pricing. Who can make love next to $21.39 or $17.61? Walmart as a sexspot is uninviting for the very reason that consumers shop Walmart in the first place, the prices. Ironic.


People talk about the Mile High Club as the best sex they've ever had. Supposedly the atmospheric pressure increases the intensity of the orgasm. Personally, I don't get it. Cramped quarters, unclean environment, disturbed by that knock on the door and a stewardess threatening to "land this plane if you don't come right out." Better to tamper with the smoke alarm and light up a cigarette. Oh, and then the walk of shame that follows. You and your partner leave the lavatory together. All eyes are upon you, or appear to be. The act of sex should not be flaunted. The Mile High Club is a club for flaunters.


I lost my virginity in a station wagon. What do I remember? The January cold of Colorado. Shivering overriding any amount of passion or curiosity. Wanting to get it over with and go get warm. Sex to me wasn’t nearly as inviting as a roaring fire.

At least in a station wagon there was plenty of space. For a time later in my life I was a proponent of Saab sex. I don't want to say that alcohol was involved, because that would mean drinking and driving, but, well, nobody sober selects Saab sex. There's simply no room to maneuver. That stick shift can be quite an obstacle.

I'm not a fan of Hummers. How a war machine became the new beetle, I have no idea. Maybe it has to do with the sexual adventure. Hummers are a mini motel room. And they can take you anywhere, to the top of Everest included. Now there's a Mile High Club of a different sort.


Friends of mine used to enjoy sex in a bar well. Don't ask me why. Her tush on ice. Knees banging into bottles of vodka, gin and vermouth. Everything a little sticky.

Personally, I think they liked to watch themselves and the wall length mirror gave them that opportunity. I also know that she was a big fan of pickled onions. She didn't have far to reach.

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