I had this imaginary conversation in my head yesterday because…well…it’s exactly what would happen if anyone were ever dumb enough to suggest that I become a “flight attendant.” I don’t think I’d make it past the training period and I’d probably weigh about a million pounds…cause I’d live off those awesome Biscoff cookies that come in the red and white packaging.
[my trainer, Jackie, and me, before anyone else is on the plane]
Me: Umm…what the hell is this for?
Jackie: That’s pretty much what will save your life if we run into any in-flight problems.
Me: A phone? Who the hell am I going to call? Back-up? A giant albatross to come and whisk me away?
Jackie: The police.
Me: You’re joking, right? I mean, don’t “the police” ride on the plane, anyway? Shouldn’t that be enough?
Jackie: Well….one sometimes isn’t enough…
Me: Well…..I’ll be using my phone-a-friend to call another plane so I can get the hell off.
Jackie: You can’t change planes in the air.
Me: If you can fill a plane with gas in the middle of the air, you can find a way to transport a person. Just sayin.
[enter pilots]
Jackie: Good morning, Captain and First Captain!
Me: Can you do me a favor, Captains, and try not to hit any turbulence? See, thing is, I don’t *do* turbulence and it’d be totally awesome of you if could get us from Point A to Point B without any.
Captain: Well, we don’t *do* special requests. Jackie, we’ll be in here – locked away…from her.
Jackie, looking back at me: I’ve decided you aren’t allowed to use the phone. People are boarding, go greet them.
Me: Greet them? Why? And shouldn’t you be calling them “passengers?” Besides, no one wants to talk when they get on a plane. They want to be left alone. Trust me.
Random, Annoying Happy Dude: Hi! Hi! I love this plane! The air’s so awesome. You’re so awesome! Hi!
Jackie: So, how do you explain that?
Me: He doesn’t count. That isn’t happy. That’s a problem.
Jackie: Well, he’s in your section of the plane. Have fun.
[exit Jackie to leave me to my own devices]
Me, giving the “Safety” Talk: Now, we all know this is probably the most annoying part, except maybe if you’re sitting next to a smelly stranger or one who doesn’t know how to share arm rests. Then, well, we’ve got a long ass flight and it sucks to be you.
Anyway, if you’ve never been in a plane before, welcome to the tin can where you will freeze your ass off if you didn’t bring a blanket and you also cannot get up to pee whenever you feel like it. If the little sign that looks like two rectangular worms fighting is illuminated, keep your ass plastered to the seat and hold it.
If for some reason we have to make a water landing or any other kind of landing that is not on a traditional tarmac, do not come find me. At that point, we are no longer in a *normal* situation and I will not be performing any kind of *normal* job function. If you need a floatation device, it’s under your ass and if we lose cabin pressure, something that will resemble one of those practical joke snakes popping out of a can will fly at your head. Instead of beating it away with your tray table, put the little strappy part over your head and breathe into the yellow, plastic cup. It’s better that way. Trust me.
If you don’t speak English, there’s a little picture book in the seat pocket in front of you with directions. And if you don’t speak Spanish, German, French, Chinese, Japanese, Mandarin or Hindi, look at the pictures. If the pictures don’t help, then nothing I say will, either.
Also, do not ask me how much longer we have, where we are on the planet based on the terrain or for an extra cookie. The answers are I don’t have a fucking clue, I’m a flight attendant, not a clock, it looks like a unicorn chasing a dragon and we’re on a budget so your ass will just have to be hungry.
And, in closing, I have a helpful method for everyone who hates turbulence…raise your hand if you hate turbulence (I raise my hand). If we begin to experience this unpleasant sensation where it feels like the plane might just shake itself apart, do this: Shut your eyes, stick your head between your legs, squeeze the person’s arm next to you until you draw blood and dammit, start praying to your Jesus, whoever the hell he is. Cause at that point, he’s the only one who’ll be able to help…unless you happen to be friends with a magical, teleporting fairy. Then, well, we need to talk. I’ll be in the back, next to the cookies.















