Let’s Take A Break (1)

Whew.  Made some good progress here, folks.  But any good writer knows it’s essential to take breaks.

Today on Let’s Take A Break?  Passenger shaming.  As you may (but probably don’t) know, when I’m not writing, I’m a flight attendant.  It’s loads of fun.  Forcing passengers to listen to my announcements.  Kicking problem people off my planes.  Walking through a special line at TSA.  All good things!

But we flight attendants have a saying.  “The only problem with our job are the passengers.”

Because let’s face it.  You cram 150+ people onto a plane, and you’re going to have issues.  Recently, one woman stabbed some poor guy with a pen for taking her armrest.  Another woman leaned her seat back, and the guy behind her tried to choke her.  And a few years ago, some woman actually gave birth flying between San Francisco and Phoenix.

Moral of the story?  People are crazy.  And while my stories aren’t national news, they’re fairly entertaining.

So here’s one I never get tired of telling.

I’m the A flight attendant, the one who greets everyone up front and makes announcements.  A lady on crutches pre-boards in California with two Housewives of Beverly Hills strutting behind her.  The three women take a seat in the first row.  One of the Housewives puts her roller board into the overhead bin.  They settle in, and life is good.

We get into the air, and crutches-lady rings her flight attendant call bell.  I step into the aisle and ask how I can help.  She says, immediately, “I need to borrow your luggage.  I have to prop my foot up.”

By this point, I’ve established myself as a dry, sarcastic Sky Goddess.  So I grin and say, “I’d be more than happy to retrieve your own luggage.  Which bag is it?”

She frowns.  “I just have my purse, but the doctor says I have to keep my foot elevated.”

I think, Probably should have thought of that when you checked your bag.  But I say, “Your friend brought one on board.  It’s right here, isn’t it?”

At this point, her friend giggles and replies, “Oh, no, that bag is Prada.”

So I said, “Well, my bag is Gucchi,” and walked away.

That was a bit mean, but let me explain my side.

Her foot was gross.

And I didn’t want it on my bag.

Shame on you, crutches-lady. Bring your own footrest next time.

(Want more passenger shaming stories? Visit this facebook page. Made by flight attendants for your viewing pleasure.)

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