The first 10 months of my flight attendant career were spent on reserve. This meant that I was on call and had little to no say over my schedule or my life. After almost a year of this my closest flight attendant friend Kylie and I were extremely tired of being on reserve to say the least. Our airline was coming up on their slowest months of the year and, in order to avoid paying more of us then they’d need to, offered what they called R&R. A rest and relaxation period of 1 to 2 of months unpaid vacation. Kylie thought we should request the 2 months off and leave the country. I reminded her we wouldn’t be getting paid and asked how she figured we could live for 2 months without a salary. She said we’d get a job that paid us “under the table” and that we’d make it work. It took about 3 days on her part to sway me into agreeing to this crazy idea. We put in our request for R&R and waited to see if it would be awarded to us.
The following week Kylie called me ecstatic with the news that we’d gotten approved. We’d have the next 2 months off and would be heading out of the country. She suggested we go to Australia and I agreed since I’d always wanted to go there. One of our roommates was from New Zealand and told us that, if we were going that far, we had to stop in her hometown on the way. She set us up with a place to stay in Auckland and 2 weeks later we were on a plane heading to the other side of the world.
Our first night in Auckland, New Zealand, we weren’t too impressed. It just seemed like another typical city. We agreed that perhaps we should leave in a couple of days and head on over to Australia. That is until the next evening.
We stepped into a random bar to have a beer and were standing next to a couple of cute New Zealand men who, when they heard our American accents, asked if they could buy us a beer as a welcome to their country. We thanked them and began chatting. The one I found attractive introduced himself as Ted. We began flirting a bit and it turned out he was as charming as he was handsome, and while I could only understand about every 3rd word he said with his thick accent, I found it irresistible nonetheless. He asked if I’d ever met a Kiwi before I’d come to New Zealand. I was confused since I wasn’t sure why he was asking me about fruit, and he explained that “kiwi” was a slang term they used to describe natives of New Zealand. I told him that other than the delicious kiwis I'd come across in my fruit salads, no, he was the first. He gave me an amused smile and told me I was in for a real treat then.
We discussed our occupations, told them what we did, and then Ted told us he sold pots. My initial assumption was that he sold marijuana, which I was shocked he was promoting so freely, but turned out he actually sold pots. As in pots that hold plants. I couldn’t believe that was an actual job but apparently he did well selling his pots. He had the perk of getting to travel around the country while being put up in hotel rooms and also made a decent living. When I asked if they might hire two American girls to sell pots “under the table” he just gave me a look I took to mean fat chance silly American. He then turned to Kylie and I and abruptly asked, “How would you two Yanks like to see the real New Zealand? We’re leaving Auckland tomorrow morning at 8 a.m. sharp and heading down to stay on my dad’s farm with a few stops along the way. You’ll have a free place to stay as long as you’re with us. What do you say?” Kylie and I took a moment to look at each other and knew what our unanimous decision was without having to say a word. I knew we were both thinking the same thing. How often do you get a free tour, plus accommodations, in a foreign country?! I was also secretly thrilled because I had a crush on our hot tour guide Ted and this would give me an excuse to pursue that as well. We told Ted we’d love to go.
I wondered what we had in store for us and hoped it was more adventure then trouble but, with my luck, the latter was more than likely to occur............To be continued
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Thursday, September 30, 2010
Thursday, September 23, 2010
The Pilot
One of the first rules I was taught in my earlier days as a flight attendant was to stay away from the pilots. I was forewarned that many of the pilots, who were more often than not married, would try to prey on the young attractive girls who didn’t yet know better. The rule was simple, basically stay away from them while off duty, on a layover, and especially while intoxicated. Unfortunately following the rules had never really been my strong suit.
It was one of my first layovers in San Francisco, and we’d had an extremely long day, the kind that made you desperately long for a cocktail by the end of it. So that’s what our crew collectively decided to do. There were two crews that got in at the same time to the hotel and we were all disappointed when we found out that the bar was closed. One of the pilots said he was going to have the hotel driver take him to the nearby liquor store and buy some beers for us, and told everyone to meet him down in the lobby in 10 minutes. We changed out of our uniforms and met down in the lobby where the pilot had set out not just beers for us, but also the biggest bottle of tequila I’d ever seen. Uh oh, this was definitely going against the rules. We all had a great time (how could you not after several shots of tequila,) and by the end of the evening things were beginning to get a bit fuzzy for me. The last thing I remember distinctly was standing on the table singing some song from a musical, which couldn’t have been a very pretty rendition after that much tequila. The rest of the crew were doing an equally terrible job singing backup for me. I also realized I was being a little too flirty with the cute-but-married pilot so decided I should at least attempt to follow the rules and head off to bed…alone. I knew I wouldn’t get away easily from the drunk crew and that they’d attempt talking me into staying up longer, so I decided I’d be sneaky and tell them I just needed to get something from my room and would be right back. That’s when the tequila blackout must have happened.
The next thing I knew I woke up in my hotel bed, which wouldn’t have been as disturbing if I hadn’t felt a foreign arm around my waist. Damn you tequila. I racked my brain and tried hard to remember anything at all from the previous night, anything after the point when I’d retreated to what I’d thought was the safety of my room. Blank…nothing…can’t remember a thing…DAMN YOU TEQUILA! I wasn’t in the same clothes I’d worn down to the lobby, I had apparently changed into just a t-shirt at some point. I still had no idea who was attached to this strange arm which was spooning me, oblivious to my panic. I decided there was only one way to find out. I turned around to look and, as I’d feared, there was the cute-but-married pilot smiling at me. I groaned and turned over, told him I was feeling ill from the drinking when he asked what was wrong, not sharing that I was actually feeling ill because I couldn’t believe this was happening. I decided I needed to know how this had come about and he may have been the only one who’d know. So I asked.
Here’s what allegedly happened after the tequila had thrown a dark blanket over my awareness. After I’d left the cute-but-married pilot had wondered what was taking me so long so he’d called my room. I answered the phone and told him I was staying up in my room and not coming back down. He asked me what room that was exactly and then I’d given him my room number. Brilliant idea. He’d come up to my room and knocked and apparently I’d let him in. After he’d finished the recap I asked if anything else had happened, and wondered when I had changed into the t-shirt (secretly hoping it wasn’t when he was in the room.) He told me I had already changed before he’d gotten to my room, (at least I had that going for me) and that while he’d hoped for more to happen (ew) he was a little disappointed that I’d passed out almost immediately (thank God for that.)
I told him I needed to go back to my room and recover from this hangover on my own. He reminded me we were already in my room. I told him in that case I needed him to leave my room so I could recover on my own. He looked insulted and a little pouty but he got up to leave. He sat on the bed and looked at me before he left and said, “I like you Parker, and I just have to tell you…” I prepared myself for the I’m married so don’t expect this to go anywhere speech I’d heard about from other flight attendants, and hoped he’d hurry up about it so I could nurse my hangover in peace. “I’m not looking for just a fling, I’m looking for a relationship.” He can’t be serious. I looked at him with a smirk ready to laugh but he actually was serious. “But, um….you’re married.” He told me he was “basically, for the most part” separated for now. I told him that when he was “basically, for the most part” divorced maybe we could have a different conversation but for now I really needed sleep. He stormed out, clearly not happy with my response.
I realized in that moment why the stay away from pilots rule had been put into place. I decided from then on I’d avoid tequila on layovers and make sure I wasn’t followed to my room by any cute-but-married-but-basically-for-the-most-part-separated pilots in the future.
It was one of my first layovers in San Francisco, and we’d had an extremely long day, the kind that made you desperately long for a cocktail by the end of it. So that’s what our crew collectively decided to do. There were two crews that got in at the same time to the hotel and we were all disappointed when we found out that the bar was closed. One of the pilots said he was going to have the hotel driver take him to the nearby liquor store and buy some beers for us, and told everyone to meet him down in the lobby in 10 minutes. We changed out of our uniforms and met down in the lobby where the pilot had set out not just beers for us, but also the biggest bottle of tequila I’d ever seen. Uh oh, this was definitely going against the rules. We all had a great time (how could you not after several shots of tequila,) and by the end of the evening things were beginning to get a bit fuzzy for me. The last thing I remember distinctly was standing on the table singing some song from a musical, which couldn’t have been a very pretty rendition after that much tequila. The rest of the crew were doing an equally terrible job singing backup for me. I also realized I was being a little too flirty with the cute-but-married pilot so decided I should at least attempt to follow the rules and head off to bed…alone. I knew I wouldn’t get away easily from the drunk crew and that they’d attempt talking me into staying up longer, so I decided I’d be sneaky and tell them I just needed to get something from my room and would be right back. That’s when the tequila blackout must have happened.
The next thing I knew I woke up in my hotel bed, which wouldn’t have been as disturbing if I hadn’t felt a foreign arm around my waist. Damn you tequila. I racked my brain and tried hard to remember anything at all from the previous night, anything after the point when I’d retreated to what I’d thought was the safety of my room. Blank…nothing…can’t remember a thing…DAMN YOU TEQUILA! I wasn’t in the same clothes I’d worn down to the lobby, I had apparently changed into just a t-shirt at some point. I still had no idea who was attached to this strange arm which was spooning me, oblivious to my panic. I decided there was only one way to find out. I turned around to look and, as I’d feared, there was the cute-but-married pilot smiling at me. I groaned and turned over, told him I was feeling ill from the drinking when he asked what was wrong, not sharing that I was actually feeling ill because I couldn’t believe this was happening. I decided I needed to know how this had come about and he may have been the only one who’d know. So I asked.
Here’s what allegedly happened after the tequila had thrown a dark blanket over my awareness. After I’d left the cute-but-married pilot had wondered what was taking me so long so he’d called my room. I answered the phone and told him I was staying up in my room and not coming back down. He asked me what room that was exactly and then I’d given him my room number. Brilliant idea. He’d come up to my room and knocked and apparently I’d let him in. After he’d finished the recap I asked if anything else had happened, and wondered when I had changed into the t-shirt (secretly hoping it wasn’t when he was in the room.) He told me I had already changed before he’d gotten to my room, (at least I had that going for me) and that while he’d hoped for more to happen (ew) he was a little disappointed that I’d passed out almost immediately (thank God for that.)
I told him I needed to go back to my room and recover from this hangover on my own. He reminded me we were already in my room. I told him in that case I needed him to leave my room so I could recover on my own. He looked insulted and a little pouty but he got up to leave. He sat on the bed and looked at me before he left and said, “I like you Parker, and I just have to tell you…” I prepared myself for the I’m married so don’t expect this to go anywhere speech I’d heard about from other flight attendants, and hoped he’d hurry up about it so I could nurse my hangover in peace. “I’m not looking for just a fling, I’m looking for a relationship.” He can’t be serious. I looked at him with a smirk ready to laugh but he actually was serious. “But, um….you’re married.” He told me he was “basically, for the most part” separated for now. I told him that when he was “basically, for the most part” divorced maybe we could have a different conversation but for now I really needed sleep. He stormed out, clearly not happy with my response.
I realized in that moment why the stay away from pilots rule had been put into place. I decided from then on I’d avoid tequila on layovers and make sure I wasn’t followed to my room by any cute-but-married-but-basically-for-the-most-part-separated pilots in the future.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
The Flight Attendant (Part 3)
My ex-boyfriend pulled up to the airport to drop me off, got out to help me with my bags, and gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. When he stepped away from me, to get back into his car, my stomach dropped to the floor as I saw who was standing just a few feet away. Staring at me, looking crestfallen and like he’d just seen a ghost, was Ben. Damn, damn, damn. Really with my luck?! I stood there for a moment, debating whether or not to run as fast as possible in the other direction, but seeing Ben’s sad face I knew I had to deal with this situation. He came up to me rattling off questions I didn’t know quite how to answer, such as: What the hell is going on? Why wasn’t I out of the country like I said I would be? Who was the man that had just dropped me off? Did I realize how confused he was and that I was breaking his heart on his birthday? Oh my God…it was his birthday! Shit, shit, shit…I completely forgot! I’m a terrible, horrible person. I could not for the life of me think of how to rectify this situation. I told him I was so sorry that I was ruining his birthday, I'd never meant to hurt him. I tried explaining why I hadn’t called, trying to help him understand it was because I needed time to sort things out. Then I told him I had to go if I was going to catch my flight back to New York but we could talk later if he wanted to. He said he couldn’t believe that he had to feel this way for the next 5 hours without being able to talk to me more about it. I tried to give him a hug, which ended up being one sided since he wouldn’t hug me back, and boarded my flight feeling horrible about hurting Ben.
When I landed in New York, Ben had already left me 2 messages sharing some of his thoughts and insecurities which had now developed, and asked me to call him as soon as I landed. I procrastinated that conversation until I was back at the crash pad sipping a double vodka on the rocks. Ben and I proceeded to talk and argue for about 2 hours straight, the end result being I thought we needed to end things, and he was heartbroken about it.
Since we worked for the same company, and obviously had a good chance of running into each other, we remained as friendly as possible under the circumstances. That is until a couple of months down the road. Ben had a layover in New York and asked if I wanted to meet up for a drink while he was there. I met up with him and made the mistake of kissing him at the end of the night. To Ben this apparently meant we were back together. I heard through a mutual friend that’s what he was telling people. Since it was clear we couldn’t be just friends, I began to avoid Ben’s calls. I’ll admit, it wasn’t the best way of handling things, but I was out of ideas and avoidance seemed like the most appealing option.
I also began to rekindle a romance with the previously mentioned ex-boyfriend, the one who was present during the accidental birthday encounter. I had a California layover and invited him to come stay with me. I happened to be flying with my good friend Vince on that trip. Somehow Ben had heard I would be there, and decided he’d show up to confront me, since I wasn’t responding to his messages. I found this out while I was laying in bed next to my on-again-ex, and out in the hallway I heard my friend Vince on his cell phone, asking someone if they knew what room I was in. I pulled a sheet around me and peeked my head out the door. Vince saw me and asked me in a whisper who I had in the room with me. I told him who was in there and asked why we were whispering. He shook his head and told me Ben was down in the lobby trying to find out what room I was in. My eyes widened in slight panic but Vince told me not to worry. Ben had been trying to get the front desk to tell him my room number to no avail, and when he’d seen Vince had looked relieved, thinking he would point him in the right direction. Ben didn’t realize Vince couldn’t stand him and that there is no amount of money that could have swayed his loyalty to me. Vince had looked at him with a smirk, and told him it would be against the rules to give out that information, which frustrated Ben even further. Vince told me if it had been anyone other than me he would’ve loved to have given out the room number, grabbed a bowl of popcorn, and pulled up a chair to watch the show. I thanked him for fighting that cruel urge and not throwing me under the bus. I went back into my room and the hotel phone started ringing relentlessly. The front desk wouldn’t give Ben my room number, but they obviously had no problem connecting him to my room over and over again. After making up some sort of lame excuse to my on-again-ex about the disruption, I unplugged the phone.
After that day, Ben finally stopped calling. I heard about him from time to time through mutual friends, mostly about him hating me, and eventually that he had left the company. I was glad that we wouldn’t be running into each other at work anymore, but was also a little sad that we couldn’t have remained friends. He was part of a huge turning point in my life, and I would be forever thankful for his assistance in helping me find my new career. But it was time to move on to bigger and better things, because as it turns out, sometimes size does matter.
When I landed in New York, Ben had already left me 2 messages sharing some of his thoughts and insecurities which had now developed, and asked me to call him as soon as I landed. I procrastinated that conversation until I was back at the crash pad sipping a double vodka on the rocks. Ben and I proceeded to talk and argue for about 2 hours straight, the end result being I thought we needed to end things, and he was heartbroken about it.
Since we worked for the same company, and obviously had a good chance of running into each other, we remained as friendly as possible under the circumstances. That is until a couple of months down the road. Ben had a layover in New York and asked if I wanted to meet up for a drink while he was there. I met up with him and made the mistake of kissing him at the end of the night. To Ben this apparently meant we were back together. I heard through a mutual friend that’s what he was telling people. Since it was clear we couldn’t be just friends, I began to avoid Ben’s calls. I’ll admit, it wasn’t the best way of handling things, but I was out of ideas and avoidance seemed like the most appealing option.
I also began to rekindle a romance with the previously mentioned ex-boyfriend, the one who was present during the accidental birthday encounter. I had a California layover and invited him to come stay with me. I happened to be flying with my good friend Vince on that trip. Somehow Ben had heard I would be there, and decided he’d show up to confront me, since I wasn’t responding to his messages. I found this out while I was laying in bed next to my on-again-ex, and out in the hallway I heard my friend Vince on his cell phone, asking someone if they knew what room I was in. I pulled a sheet around me and peeked my head out the door. Vince saw me and asked me in a whisper who I had in the room with me. I told him who was in there and asked why we were whispering. He shook his head and told me Ben was down in the lobby trying to find out what room I was in. My eyes widened in slight panic but Vince told me not to worry. Ben had been trying to get the front desk to tell him my room number to no avail, and when he’d seen Vince had looked relieved, thinking he would point him in the right direction. Ben didn’t realize Vince couldn’t stand him and that there is no amount of money that could have swayed his loyalty to me. Vince had looked at him with a smirk, and told him it would be against the rules to give out that information, which frustrated Ben even further. Vince told me if it had been anyone other than me he would’ve loved to have given out the room number, grabbed a bowl of popcorn, and pulled up a chair to watch the show. I thanked him for fighting that cruel urge and not throwing me under the bus. I went back into my room and the hotel phone started ringing relentlessly. The front desk wouldn’t give Ben my room number, but they obviously had no problem connecting him to my room over and over again. After making up some sort of lame excuse to my on-again-ex about the disruption, I unplugged the phone.
After that day, Ben finally stopped calling. I heard about him from time to time through mutual friends, mostly about him hating me, and eventually that he had left the company. I was glad that we wouldn’t be running into each other at work anymore, but was also a little sad that we couldn’t have remained friends. He was part of a huge turning point in my life, and I would be forever thankful for his assistance in helping me find my new career. But it was time to move on to bigger and better things, because as it turns out, sometimes size does matter.
The Flight Attendant (Part 2)
If I wanted the job I had to move to New York, and in time hope that a slot opened up in the California base. I decided, what the hell, and accepted the offer. I put my belongings into storage and left Arizona. I wasn’t sure where I was going to reside yet, but since they were putting us up in hotels during training, I had a month to figure it out.
I spent a little time in California with my family and friends before I headed off to training, and I also spent time with Ben. We had been talking almost every day. He definitely had more of a romantic interest in me than I did with him but he seemed o.k. with just being friends. I expressed to him that I’d semi-recently gotten out of a far too dramatic relationship so I wasn’t looking for anything serious. I only wanted a friendship, nothing more. He told me he understood completely and said he was totally o.k. with that. Then we slept together…so there went that plan.
It happened one night while we were hanging out at Ben’s apartment drinking way too many cocktails, (which is always a bad idea by the way, ) and somehow we ended up in his bed naked. Aside from the fact I’d just broken my “we can only be friends” rule, there was now a new problem. There was a bit of a size issue. I’d always been a believer in “size doesn’t matter”…..that is until I slept with Ben. Without getting too graphic I’ll just say this: if you are unaware that you’re having sex until a few minutes into the act, that is a huge problem. I tried my best to pretend I didn’t notice, but I’m not very good at hiding my expressions, so there is a fair chance he knew exactly what I thought. I did continue to date him despite this setback. I had become attached to our friendship so I overlooked his tiny problem for the moment.
We didn’t see each other very often for the next month when I went off to training, but he became my flight attendant mentor, so we talked on the phone constantly and he answered every question I could come up with. He was exactly what I needed at that time, which was a friend I could trust and count on to be there for me. Looking back it was probably selfish on my part, since I knew he was falling for me, and I also knew that I didn’t feel exactly the same way. I still constantly told him that we were just friends, that I didn’t want a boyfriend, and he still pretended to be o.k. with that. I’m pretty sure he thought I would come around eventually on that topic, and since I wasn’t dating anyone else and called him several times a day, he didn’t take my words too seriously.
After months of trying to pretend we were just friends, I finally gave in a little, and stopped objecting when he called me his girlfriend. I even began referring to him as my boyfriend and eventually, when he said he loved me, I surprised myself by saying it back. I did love him, but more in the way that you love your favorite blanket. I felt safe with Ben. Safe in that I knew he wouldn’t break my heart and that he was always there for me. He knew exactly how to calm me down in any stressful situation and I appreciated how simple and uncomplicated our relationship was.
Towards the end of my month long flight attendant training class I started getting frustrated with Ben. Frustrated with the fact that I was now living on the opposite side of the country from him and frustrated with the realization that this wasn’t the guy for me and I knew it while he didn’t. Since I was hoping a slot would open up and allow me to transfer to the California base, I didn’t have a permanent home just yet, so I was temporarily living in what’s called a “crash pad.” I shared a room with 6 other flight attendants so this didn’t help my frustrated mood much. We started fighting more often and I told him I needed some space and time to figure things out. I planned a trip to Europe with a friend and told Ben I really needed to think about everything while away. He told me he supported whatever I felt I needed and we agreed to talk next when I got back in a few weeks.
Two days before my friend and I were supposed to leave she had a family emergency and we had to postpone our trip. I debated what to do next, whether or not I should tell Ben I hadn’t left the country after all. I ultimately decided against it. I figured we’d already said our goodbyes, I told him I needed time to think, so it was best to just take the time for myself. I decided to fly to California and visit family and friends. At the end of my California trip I ran into an old boyfriend and we spent a couple of days catching up. Nothing romantic, just catching up as friends, so I saw no harm in it. When I had to get back to New York, he offered me a ride to the airport. While I didn’t think it was wrong to let Ben assume I was out of the country, even though I didn’t go, I definitely didn’t want to run into him either. He didn’t usually work weekends so I figured the chances of running into him at the airport were slim to none. Of course I had forgotten that even the most impossible scenarios always seem to find me. What happened that day, I’m pretty certain, would only happen to me.......Stay tuned for The Flight Attendant finale
I spent a little time in California with my family and friends before I headed off to training, and I also spent time with Ben. We had been talking almost every day. He definitely had more of a romantic interest in me than I did with him but he seemed o.k. with just being friends. I expressed to him that I’d semi-recently gotten out of a far too dramatic relationship so I wasn’t looking for anything serious. I only wanted a friendship, nothing more. He told me he understood completely and said he was totally o.k. with that. Then we slept together…so there went that plan.
It happened one night while we were hanging out at Ben’s apartment drinking way too many cocktails, (which is always a bad idea by the way, ) and somehow we ended up in his bed naked. Aside from the fact I’d just broken my “we can only be friends” rule, there was now a new problem. There was a bit of a size issue. I’d always been a believer in “size doesn’t matter”…..that is until I slept with Ben. Without getting too graphic I’ll just say this: if you are unaware that you’re having sex until a few minutes into the act, that is a huge problem. I tried my best to pretend I didn’t notice, but I’m not very good at hiding my expressions, so there is a fair chance he knew exactly what I thought. I did continue to date him despite this setback. I had become attached to our friendship so I overlooked his tiny problem for the moment.
We didn’t see each other very often for the next month when I went off to training, but he became my flight attendant mentor, so we talked on the phone constantly and he answered every question I could come up with. He was exactly what I needed at that time, which was a friend I could trust and count on to be there for me. Looking back it was probably selfish on my part, since I knew he was falling for me, and I also knew that I didn’t feel exactly the same way. I still constantly told him that we were just friends, that I didn’t want a boyfriend, and he still pretended to be o.k. with that. I’m pretty sure he thought I would come around eventually on that topic, and since I wasn’t dating anyone else and called him several times a day, he didn’t take my words too seriously.
After months of trying to pretend we were just friends, I finally gave in a little, and stopped objecting when he called me his girlfriend. I even began referring to him as my boyfriend and eventually, when he said he loved me, I surprised myself by saying it back. I did love him, but more in the way that you love your favorite blanket. I felt safe with Ben. Safe in that I knew he wouldn’t break my heart and that he was always there for me. He knew exactly how to calm me down in any stressful situation and I appreciated how simple and uncomplicated our relationship was.
Towards the end of my month long flight attendant training class I started getting frustrated with Ben. Frustrated with the fact that I was now living on the opposite side of the country from him and frustrated with the realization that this wasn’t the guy for me and I knew it while he didn’t. Since I was hoping a slot would open up and allow me to transfer to the California base, I didn’t have a permanent home just yet, so I was temporarily living in what’s called a “crash pad.” I shared a room with 6 other flight attendants so this didn’t help my frustrated mood much. We started fighting more often and I told him I needed some space and time to figure things out. I planned a trip to Europe with a friend and told Ben I really needed to think about everything while away. He told me he supported whatever I felt I needed and we agreed to talk next when I got back in a few weeks.
Two days before my friend and I were supposed to leave she had a family emergency and we had to postpone our trip. I debated what to do next, whether or not I should tell Ben I hadn’t left the country after all. I ultimately decided against it. I figured we’d already said our goodbyes, I told him I needed time to think, so it was best to just take the time for myself. I decided to fly to California and visit family and friends. At the end of my California trip I ran into an old boyfriend and we spent a couple of days catching up. Nothing romantic, just catching up as friends, so I saw no harm in it. When I had to get back to New York, he offered me a ride to the airport. While I didn’t think it was wrong to let Ben assume I was out of the country, even though I didn’t go, I definitely didn’t want to run into him either. He didn’t usually work weekends so I figured the chances of running into him at the airport were slim to none. Of course I had forgotten that even the most impossible scenarios always seem to find me. What happened that day, I’m pretty certain, would only happen to me.......Stay tuned for The Flight Attendant finale
The Flight Attendant (Part 1)
I had an old friend who’d recently moved to New York and started working as a gate agent for an airline. She invited me to New York for a visit, and gave me a free flight pass. On that flight I watched the flight attendants and started daydreaming about what their job would be like. I’d always thought flying for a living would be a fun occupation. Even as a little girl I’d loved flying, watching the tiny world below from 35,000 feet in the sky, feeling the thrill of going somewhere new and exciting.
One of the flight attendants, whose name was Ben, looked very familiar to me. I asked him at one point if we knew each other from somewhere, and he said he didn’t think so. He lived in L.A. so we thought we might have a mutual friend, but in the end couldn’t make a match. We did, however, spend the rest of the long flight chatting. I had a ton of questions about being a flight attendant and he was very helpful with information. The more I discovered about his job, the more I thought this was something I should pursue. I was definitely seeking a change for my life and this seemed right up my alley. I began to sense his agenda was a bit different from mine when he started making flirtatious comments. I didn’t think he was terrible looking, but he definitely wasn’t my type. He was on the shorter, scrawnier side, and even though I was considering becoming a flight attendant, I didn’t actually want to date one. By the end of the flight, I’d decided it would be in my best interest to keep in touch with Ben, in hopes he’d put in a good word for me with his superiors. I gave him my number and told him to give me a call.
Ben did call and, since I wasn’t living in L.A. anymore, we got to know each other via telephone. During this time period his airline called about the resume I’d submitted. They wanted to fly me out to New York for an interview. It appeared they wanted to test the applicants on their ability to function with little sleep and jet lag, since they had me scheduled to fly out on a overnight red eye, then heading straight from the flight to the all day interview. Someone suggested I take 2 Tylenol p.m. at the beginning of the flight. They said it would help me sleep so I’d have energy when I got in. The night of the flight I followed that advice and I’m not sure if it was because I’d taken it on an empty stomach, or if I had some sort of allergic reaction, but I ended up in the lavatory most of the flight vomiting and cursing the friend who suggested the medication. By the time we landed in New York I was exhausted and feeling like death. I was trying desperately to find the energy necessary to plaster on an all-day-long smile and show my flight attendant enthusiasm. I pulled myself together as best I could, drank about 7 cups of coffee and as many saltine crackers as I could stomach (about 2), then headed to the interview. I don’t remember many interview details but I must have done something right because, about a week later, I got the call congratulating me on my new occupation. They wanted me to start training in a month, and they would be placing me in the New York base. Umm…live in New York? That wasn’t part of my master plan…....To be continued
One of the flight attendants, whose name was Ben, looked very familiar to me. I asked him at one point if we knew each other from somewhere, and he said he didn’t think so. He lived in L.A. so we thought we might have a mutual friend, but in the end couldn’t make a match. We did, however, spend the rest of the long flight chatting. I had a ton of questions about being a flight attendant and he was very helpful with information. The more I discovered about his job, the more I thought this was something I should pursue. I was definitely seeking a change for my life and this seemed right up my alley. I began to sense his agenda was a bit different from mine when he started making flirtatious comments. I didn’t think he was terrible looking, but he definitely wasn’t my type. He was on the shorter, scrawnier side, and even though I was considering becoming a flight attendant, I didn’t actually want to date one. By the end of the flight, I’d decided it would be in my best interest to keep in touch with Ben, in hopes he’d put in a good word for me with his superiors. I gave him my number and told him to give me a call.
Ben did call and, since I wasn’t living in L.A. anymore, we got to know each other via telephone. During this time period his airline called about the resume I’d submitted. They wanted to fly me out to New York for an interview. It appeared they wanted to test the applicants on their ability to function with little sleep and jet lag, since they had me scheduled to fly out on a overnight red eye, then heading straight from the flight to the all day interview. Someone suggested I take 2 Tylenol p.m. at the beginning of the flight. They said it would help me sleep so I’d have energy when I got in. The night of the flight I followed that advice and I’m not sure if it was because I’d taken it on an empty stomach, or if I had some sort of allergic reaction, but I ended up in the lavatory most of the flight vomiting and cursing the friend who suggested the medication. By the time we landed in New York I was exhausted and feeling like death. I was trying desperately to find the energy necessary to plaster on an all-day-long smile and show my flight attendant enthusiasm. I pulled myself together as best I could, drank about 7 cups of coffee and as many saltine crackers as I could stomach (about 2), then headed to the interview. I don’t remember many interview details but I must have done something right because, about a week later, I got the call congratulating me on my new occupation. They wanted me to start training in a month, and they would be placing me in the New York base. Umm…live in New York? That wasn’t part of my master plan…....To be continued
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