I have a very serious job.
I’m not being sarcastic – you may think flight attendants are there to serve you peanuts and yell at you about your iPad, but really…we’re important.
When you get on a plane, odds are you’re going to get off that plane perfectly safe and alive. Let’s just say you don’t, though. Let’s just say you have a heart attack in seat 5A. Well, I’m your girl.
And let’s just say something goes really wrong, and the plane crashes. There’s a 96% chance that you’re going to survive that crash, and once again – I’m your girl. Assuming I’m still alive, too, I’m going to help you out. I spent weeks drilling commands and brace positions in my head, learning how to wrap wounds and put out fires.
Planes are weird. There’s nothing normal about 65+ people hurtling through the sky in a pressurized tube. That just shouldn’t happen – but somehow, it does. That’s why flight attendants are on the plane, to keep you alive.
Like I said, I have a very serious job.
So I think about safety a lot. But I also think about other things…
On my last four day trip, I brought along a notepad, and made a list of some of the things that go through my mind while doing my job. You’re welcome.
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Part of my job is to watch people. I’m supposed to check for carry on bags that are too large, make sure no one is smuggling on exotic animals or their own mini bottles, check for obvious terrorists.
I LOVE this part of my job. Sure, I check for all the required things – but I also guess passengers preferences, create little stories about them, try to figure them out.
I create mini soap operas in my mind, which usually revolve around the couples on the planes. I create sordid background stories for the couple seated in row 8 – how they’re headed to Burlington, VT as a last ditch effort to save their relationship. The boyfriend is convinced that a couples massage and trip to the original Ben & Jerry’s will rekindle the fire, while the girlfriend is wondering whether or not Ben & Jerry have developed frozen yogurt yet – she doesn’t want to even know how many calories are in Phish Food.
There’s a plot twist when Girlfriend makes eye contact with the guy seated diagonally behind her. My head spins with possibilities - most involving love at first sight. I imagine a secret rendezvous in a seedy Motel 6, red wine in paper cups and slow dances in pouring rain.
Sometime I wonder what it says about me that I imagine affairs and breakups for two seemingly happy people. I ponder imaginary heartbreak while stealing biscoff cookies from the first class snack basket. Then I watch the older couple holding hands during takeoff, and decide that I’m not a complete cynic.
I watch the dude with the Wizarding World of Harry Potter shopping bag, and while I’m jealous that he’s tasted Butterbeer, I imagine what his apartment must be like. I picture Lord of the Rings posters covering every inch of wall space, prized memorabilia in plastic cases on the shelves. There’s an intense gaming system set up, which is where this guys spends countless hours playing World of Warcraft and Dungeons and Dragons. When he does go outside, it’s to play Quidditch with other pasty, socially awkward semi-adults. I am not surprised when he asks for apple juice and cookies. I’m very skeptical of adult apple juice drinkers.
You can always spot the Diet Coke people.
They’re usually the women boarding the plane with oversized carry-on’s, convinced they can’t survive the flight without 15 magazines, their Kindle, travel pillow and scrapbooking kit. They are decked out in sorority gear – I mean shirt, sweatshirt, bag and flipflops attesting to their devotion to the sisterhood. They’re in their mid-twenties but still have bows in their hair. They act inconvenienced when I ask if they would like pretzels or peanuts. They always choose pretzels.
I watch the girl playing Bejeweled with the volume on high, and resist the urge to slap the phone out of her hand, or shove some headphones in her ears. I watch the lady with perfectly coifed hair and tailored suit smack her gum – I mean, mouth WIDE OPEN between bites – and decide that if I ever become Queen I will outlaw gum. I try to ignore what I learned about survival rates of lap children while watching a young dad placate his 2 year old with a KitKat and Elmo sing-a-long.
The fantasy ends when the passengers head off to Milwaukee, Richmond or the mean streets of Bangor.
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Sometime I give the passengers makeovers, or whole new personalities. Passengers become paper dolls in my mind.
I take the lady with scraggly grey hair and Birkenstocks (traveling to Burlington, duh) and imagine her in an Oscar de la Renta ballgown. I give the lady in the suit dreadlocks, the hipster dude in black skinny jeans gets pleated khakis and a polo – he would fit right in at The Point.
I become a casting director – imagining who would play who in a Hollywood blockbuster based on my life. I imagine this plane trip as a pivotal scene, and fill first class with an award-winning cast.
George Clooney plays the businessman in 1A, ordering a double Woodford Reserve and reading the Times. Javier Bardem and Penelop Cruz are in row 2, the glamorous couple traveling for pleasure. Ryan Gosling’s on his iPad in 3A, Johnny Depp winks at me from 3C.
Sometimes I imagine what would happen in a Lost situation. Of course I put myself in Kate’s shoes, and pick two guys (Jack and Sawyer stand ins) that fight for my affection. I look for an outdoorsy person that would help build shelter, someone that would be able to catch fish and wild boar to eat. I pick who would die first, it’s usually the girl I mentioned earlier in the Sorat gear. She just wouldn’t be able to handle life without Diet Coke or missing Formal.
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Ok, I know that this can only mean that when I’m old I’ll have extensive conversations with my cats, but I’m alright with that. I love cats.