Inside a flight attendant’s mind
I AM GIGGLING in the back galley with my flight attendant friends. It is early evening, the service complete, the cabin quiet. There are several hours left in the flight. We are bored.
One flight attendant has a crazy idea. “Why don’t we all walk through the cabin, pick a passenger we’d like to sleep with and compare choices?!” We think this is a smashing idea, so one by one, we five women slowly walk the length of the 767, scrutinizing passengers, smiling vacuously, acting like we are performing a routine walk-through, checking on our passengers, making sure all is well, does anyone need anything? If they only knew what we were thinking.
We return to the galley and compare notes. Three of them have all chosen the same passenger for their imaginary lover, a very attractive man sitting in seat 26G. He is young, fit, nicely dressed, movie star handsome. He is traveling alone, listening to music, expensive noise-canceling headphones covering his ears. He has no idea he is the object of three flight attendants’ racy fantasies.
I have chosen a man sitting in first class, seat 3A, a harried businessman, nice looking but certainly no knockout. He is working on his laptop, a glass of scotch on his tray table. He probably works too hard, flies too much, neglects his wife in pursuit of professional distinction. I tell my young flight attendant friends, “Yes, 26G is hot, but 3A would be grateful!”
The fifth flight attendant wrinkles her nose and says she couldn’t find anyone on the entire plane she would like to sleep with, not even a woman! We all burst out laughing.
Next we play a silly game of “Would you rather…”
Sleep with a fat man or a dwarf?
Sleep with Brad or Mark (two handsome male flight attendants we work with)?
Lick the galley floor or the lavatory sink?
We crack up, giddy as schoolgirls.
The answers are unanimous. “Dwarf. Brad. Floor.”