This is one of the funniest diatribes I have ever seen written. And yes, I gladly admit that most of the people I work with think this way- even ME on an occasional bad day.
Flight attendants are all the same. We deal with the same crap, just in different uniforms. We point to the same exits, and we say the same things. "I'll be right back," said by any flight attendant, on any airline, on any day, means the same thing: F You! Often times, passengers are like badly behaving children, and you just wanna spank them, just like that lady who beat her child in the K-Mart parking lot a few years back. "All my friends who fly on AMERICAN get to hold their over sized luggage on their laps while sitting in an exit row." Oh yeah? Well, listen mister. As long as you're under my fuselage, you're gonna follow my rules. And I don't care what other flight attendants let your friends do!
But sometimes they're completely unassuming and innocent. You know the ones - you're coming down the aisle with your beverage cart and they want to pay you a dollar for their coke, and you just have to say to them, "I can't take that dollar from you. It's two-fifty." And then they tip you on top of it. Let's talk about the seat belt sign for a minute, shall we? The minute it goes on they all decide to get out of their seats and use the bathroom. I wish I could invent a PA system that could direct my announcements to any one seat or lavatory. I'd never leave my jump seat. Let's say you have someone who goes into the bathroom after you've told them that the seat belt sign is on. Just go over to your jump seat panel and type in "aft lavatory 3L," and make your desired announcement. "Attention! This is the toilet speaking! Get your fat ass off me and get back to your seat! The seat belt sign is on! And I KNEW you dyed your hair!" Speaking of announcements, don't you just love it when one of the pilots blabs on about all sorts of technical crap? "We'll be landing on runway twenty-one right..." Like somebody is actually sitting there excited beyond belief, thinking, "Oh my God! That's my all time favorite runway!" I know I am. Passengers are very inquisitive, always with the questions. "What are we flying over?" Your luggage. "What's in the lasagna?" A free round trip ticket. "Will I make my connecting flight?" I'll be right back... I like to be up at the front door during passenger boarding. They say things like: "How old is this airplane?" It's the Wright Brother's original, we just pieced it back together. "If you're oversold and need any volunteers, let us know." Oh, don't worry, you'll probably be removed for weight and balance anyway. "Twenty-one F and G?" Nice mouth, lady!
Or, they'll get it backwards. "B 21?" Damn, you sank my battleship. And then they look into the cockpit, with parents always trying to thrust their children on up there. "Oh honey, look. Look at the Captain. Look at all those switches. Go say hi. Go say hello, Ashley. Go on." Poor Ashley has no interest in all those switches, and usually ends up crying. Well, of course she's upset. She knows as soon as she gets up there that one of them will be asking her for their crew meal or for a cup of coffee. The pilots will just think that the airline has lowered the hiring age to seven and changed the uniform to Granimals. Yup, instead of a paper route like all the other kids, poor Ashley has to do a Chicago turn before dinner, then it's homework and off to bed. Nobody ever seems to notice the flight attendants during boarding, unless it's to throw away their half gallon Starbucks Coffee cups. They never ask us to take their picture in the galley while they pose next to the coffee maker. It's the same thing when they're leaving. "Thanks, great flight!" they say to the pilots, who did nothing but make annoying announcements the whole time. We're the ones who supplied them with enough salty snacks and carbonated beverages to give them rancid gas, bad enough to bring the masks down. I swear, sometimes I get so frustrated I point to the wrong exits just out of spite. And the sad thing is, nobody notices. Now we have to "brief" the exit rows prior to departure. They don't care, they don't even bother to look up. "In the event of an emergency..." No response. "Look for fire before opening the exit..." Faces hidden behind newspapers. "Death, destruction, bloody, severed limbs..." Still nothing. "And we've just canceled our Mileage program, all miles expire tonight at midnight." "What? Oh my God! We've got to get out of here!" Yeah, that always gets a reaction. Frequent Flier miles. Everything seems to be justified by how many miles they have. "Sir, you simply cannot be smacking around a flight attendant like that. It's against the law. What? You have Super Gold status? Yes, well, that IS a lot of miles. You certainly can slap a flight attendant, sir. Yes, you can. Here, let me get you another one, you can slap two of them with that kind of mileage." And don't ever make a joke about cutting their frequent flyer card in half. Trust me. Take their wife and children, but leave the card alone! Our work group is quite interesting, and very diverse. Take the more senior flight attendants. These women have been around since the flying boat. And God love 'em. They'll never retire. And I've come up with an invention so that they'll never have to. It's called FLIGHT ATTENDS. That's right, no more lagging beverage services because senior Betty is in the can again. No more jump seat accidents, or unsightly stains on their uniforms. I can just imagine that peeing-in-the-pool look on their faces when I ask them to pass me a 7UP. And pregnant flight attendants! What a brilliant idea! I tell you, if I were a woman I'd buy a maternity dress and have it with me at all times. As soon as I was on the plane, I'd slip it on and stuff myself so I would look about 8.5 months pregnant. I bet no one messes with me then! "Sir, we're out of the chicken, but I do have the lasagna." He would go to open his mouth to say something, as they always do, because we all know that not getting your first meal choice is the end of the world, and I would just start moaning and grabbing at my stomach. "Oh, I think my water just broke," I'd cry. I'd be invincible, they'd all be putty in the palm of my hands, because believe me, nobody wants to be responsible for killing your unborn baby. I'm so jealous. I just love it when you come down the aisle and they all have their headphones on. I don't even talk anymore, I just move my lips. Why waste my breath when they don't even take them off to hear what I'm saying? Okay, I'm standing in front of you with a beverage cart, what do you think I'm asking you? "Would you like your pap smear before or after dinner ma'am?" And then they scream really loudly, "What?!? What?!?" So to get back at them, I wear my Walkman while on the cart. I get to their row and I just scream, "What would you like to drink?!? What?!? What?!? I can't hear you!!!" Did you ever wonder about having to pay for drinks and movies? Well, I have a little secret for you: Those movies and drinks have always been free in economy! It's true! The flight attendants all got together one day and decided, "they're in economy, no one will ever know the difference-let's charge them and keep the money." Oh, and something else you should know. Those masks that drop down really don't work unless your in first class. Just FYI. I'm always amused when passengers think they're gonna get me fired. "I want your name. I WANT YOUR NAME!" Please, I didn't just fall off the catering truck yesterday. I'm union! I could torch your house in full uniform, and I'd still have my job. And if they persist, I will give them my name, followed by, "Go ahead and write, but you'd better hurry. This is my last flight. I gave my notice two weeks ago." The veins bulging on the sides of their necks make it all worth it. Passengers always seem to have these "quick questions." But the funny thing is, they never are. Twenty-five minutes later, I'm still wondering where the hell this diatribe-containing missing luggage, snowstorms, double miles, and ordering special meals-is going. "Oh, I'm sorry, we're out of time. Too bad you didn't get around to asking your `quick question.' But hold that thought, I'll be right back." Now that the airlines have dropped the fares to below Greyhound prices, a new breed of passenger has emerged. My dentist would have a field day with all the missing teeth. We're talking beer before nine AM and pre-Jenny Jones makeover candidates. "What do you mean there's no pillows, blankets, playing cards, wings, or food?" Listen. You're lucky we even have two engines. These people are paying ninety-nine dollars for a round trip coast to coast ticket, I'm making thirty per cent less every paycheck, and they want wings? Here, take mine! And now there's a new question that's reared it's ugly head: "What do you have?" Yes, the beverage cart question. Every row it's the same thing, like the selection will be different when I get to their row. "I'm sorry. If only you were seated in an even numbered row you could have had the Dr. Pepper. Your row's choices are Diet Rite Cola or cloudy tap water." "What do you have?" I'm medicated now, so it's no problem for me to recite the whole list three hundred times. "We have Pepsi, Diet Pepsi, 7UP, Diet 7UP, Ginger Ale ... here, slide over, this might take a while once I get to the liquor mini drawer." I've learned my lesson, but some flight attendants never do. When asked what we have, they'll respond, "Well, what would you like?" Big mistake. I've heard things like grape juice, Tang, Sunny D., casaba melon juice ... and then they always end up settling for-you guessed it- a Pepsi! And don't forget about the connection-slash-time change questions. "Oh my God! I've just been looking at my ticket, and we've got five minutes to make our connecting flight." "We're arriving ten minutes early, are you sure?" "Yes, it says so right here." "Chicago's on Central Time." A blank stare follows. "That means they're an hour behind New York." Still, nothing. "Yes, you'll make you're connection." "Will they hold the plane for us?" "Yes, they'll be waiting for you." But some things never change. Once the plane has landed, why is it that everybody has to get their bags out into the aisle and get into that half-seated, half-in-the-sprinting position like they're gonna run a race? We're still moving and some people even start to get up - excuse me, we're not even at the gate yet! Where are you gonna go? It's times like these that I wish I had an emergency brake located by my jump seat. The kind like they have on the subway. I would pull that thing so hard that people would be flying out the cockpit window. But unfortunately, Boeing and Airbus don't ask for flight attendant input on this type of thing. Or on anything, come to think of it. We're always in the media. "Flight Attendant confessions on the next Maury," "Flight Attendants who point to the exits with their middle fingers," "Flight Attendants admit doing the safety demo wrong on purpose, on the next Sally." Oprah's newest book club selection: "When Bad Passengers Happen to Good Flight Attendants." The new Learning Annex seminar: "Flight Attendants are from Mars, Passengers are from Hell." And then there's the family. Every year at Thanksgiving it's the same thing. "So, you're still with The Airlines?" What's with this "The Airlines" crap? I work for ONE AIRLINE, not ALL of them! "Well, I'm usually with UNITED, but last week AIR FRANCE called me, and you know the French, I just couldn't say no. Next thing I know, I'm on the Concord to Paris." And God forbid there's ever an accident, my mother will get so many calls. "Oh my God, I hope he's okay." "That was a Russian Airline. He works for United," she'll tell them. "Well, we know he's with THE AIRLINES, so we weren't sure. Are you sure he wasn't on it?" "Let me check," she'll say. "I'll be right back."
