Caption courtesy of Mike
Photo courtesy of (frequent flying) Ron Faubert
I’m a nurse. So there I was, working a 16 hour shift (I get an hour off between the two eight-hour assignments), and I decided to nip off into the area where the residents take their naps. I wasn’t asleep long and I began dreaming. I was asleep in the dream and woke up on a 777. I looked around and started screaming. I was sitting in the very last row of economy. I’ve never seen it back there, but it was just as awful as I imagined it would be. Suddenly a very angry flight attendant came over and said, “WHAT”? I looked up and it was YOU! I asked, “Where are we going?” You snapped, “JFK!” I said,”Ok, phew! When do we land.” You said, “twenty-seven hours”, and your voice got all slow and horror movie like and then you started to cackle like Vincent Price. I began to scream again, trying to get my seat belt off, but my belt wouldn’t come off! I asked if there was a seat in first class, that I just need to get up there. You stopped laughing and, waving your finger at me, said, ”NO NO NO, twenty-seven hours till landing,” and then you started laughing again in that scary horror movie laugh. When I jumped awake, there were two nurses staring at me. Apparently I had screamed so loud they came in to see what was the matter. I tried to explain my dream, but they didn’t get it, nor did they understand what was so bad about sitting in economy. I kept saying, twenty-seven hours guys! Maybe you can understand?
P.S. I hope the first time you’re on my flight, you’re a little nicer, jeez heather!
First of all, let’s get something straight. I do not cackle. Ever. Secondly, thank you for including me in your worst nightmare. You have no idea just how often this happens, whether I’m actually working the flight or not. Thirdly, you will not find me on a twenty-seven hour flight to anywhere. I fly domestic trips. That means I never work a leg longer than six hours. Also, I’m junior. A junior flight attendant would not be able to hold a twenty-seven hour trip. Unless of course it’s a twenty-seven hour, three-day, on a super80 or 757 that hops from city to city. That’s because we’re only paid for flying time, not ground time. The time clock doesn’t officially start ticking until the aircraft door has been shut and the aircraft has backed away from the gate. This is why the best trips, in airline world, are the long haul flights. There’s little ground time involved so flight attendants get their hours in quickly. There’s a reason the crew working to Paris looks like they may have trouble pushing the cart to the front of the cabin while the crew flying to Tulsa may seem as if they just graduated from flight attendant training. As for being seated in the last row, Ron, I’m going to tell you what I tell passengers who roll their eyes and make negative comments the moment they notice exactly where their seat is. Someone has to sit there. Why not you?
P.S. In your next dream, can you please put me in coach on the 767 , my favorite airplane, on a flight from New York to anywhere on the West Coast with a layover longer than ten hours at a hotel that is not near the airport. If you can do that for me, Ron, we’ll work on moving you out of that crappy seat.
Photo courtesy of Caribb
FLIGHT ATTENDANT: Miss did you get a chance to look at the menu?
Just thought I’d share…
(A.K.A. Frequent-flyin-two-timin Ron)
I boarded the Super80 (Chicago crew) and a very senior looking flight attendant in the galley shouts GOOD MORNING! It was 12:30 pm. I smiled and said hi. Shortly after I get settled in 3E I hear her shriek SANTA! I glance up and see a large older gentlemen dressed in normal clothes sporting a big white beard. The flight attendant pulls him into the galley and in a rather boisterous voice says, “I’ve been a good little girl …” I couldn’t believe my ears. It gets better. He chuckles and says “How good?” I looked around to make sure I actually was on a flight heading to Chicago and not on the set of some sleazy senior soft core porn project. After the lunch service was over, the flight attendant tops off my wine and asks if I need anything else. I thank her and reply no. GOOD, she shouts, I’m gonna go sit on Santa’s Lap! She then runs back to economy. I couldn’t believe it! On my flight back to Boston, I got to thinking about Santa and the flight attendant and wondered if maybe they were meant to be. Maybe it was another “love on an airplane story” like yours?
While I did meet my husband on an airplane, I am not crazy! I am also not attracted to Santa. Nor have I ever thrown myself at a bearded man in the galley. But thank you for thinking of me when you came across the insanity in flight. Preciate that! Really.
Ok I have to dig up the pics, but in 2004 I was a flight attendant for Halloween. I was living in San Francisco at the time. I wore a platinum blonde wig and a tight fitting one piece dress that was a real flight attendant dress from the 70s that I found in Berkeley at some thrift store. My name was Candy. I had a seatbelt extension, a demo O2 mask, and a safety card, and since we were having a party at our house, I pushed around a little cart type thing and made drinks for people…it was a lot of work, I tell ya! I even had ballet slippers for my galley shoes! I was the best flight attendant ever!
I can tell by the last line in your email that you really were the best flight attendant ever. Deep down inside, Ron, I think you truly are a flight attendant. I really do. Because only a real flight attendant would slip her barking dogs into a pair of comfy in flight shoes while working the cart. Speaking of those pink ballet slippers of yours, how dare you write me an email and go into such great detail about this fabulous costume without including a photo! Seriously, what’s that all about? Oh and do they make the slippes in blue?
PS I’m waiting….
(Photo courtesy of Mag3737 )
I am writing from 39K feet, glass of wine in hand. I am SO in my element! LOL…I wish you were working this flight, the purser is uber gay, and has offered everything, including himself ( literally) So get this, the oven door is stuck shut, so we can’t have cookies! These Md80s are getting old! First has 11 empty seats, It’s like a ghost town up here, but leaves me plenty of opportunity to galley ‘Hang”
p.s. this is my reconciliation flight
Dear (two-timin) Ron,
Glad to see you’re trying to work things out with the airline. Ya see, that’s why I like you. You’re not a quitter. Deep down inside you really are a good frequent flier. Now, for just a moment, please, forget about the stuck oven, because that’s not important. What’s important is…is the uber gay one hot?
Okay, now back to the cookies. Did the oven get unstuck? Were the cookies served on a plate with…oh…I don’t know…maybe a phone number written across a napkin? Have you called the number? Is there relationship potential here? Hey, it happens. I picked my husband up on a flight from New York to Los Angeles seven years ago. So keep me posted.
photo courtesy of Melissa Maples - flickr.com