Where does a flight attendant go on vacation??
For me usually I put my travelpro(r) away in my closet, and throw my uniform in a big pile under it, and just stay at home and relax for two weeks. This year was different, I went to see my buddy Eric in Kalamazoo, MI! You don't need to jet off to some exotic location to get away from it all, some of the best get a ways are right out of your back door.
About nine months ago, I was working the last imbound flight to O'Hare from Memphis. It was an extemely light flight, maybe 15 passengers, including the cutie sitting in 1A. It takes alot for me to get twitterpated over a passenger, But Jason was the exception. He was tall, clean cut, handsome, with broad shoulders, and sparkly eyes. He was 27 years old, and lived in Naperville, just outside of Chicago. He told me that he grew up in Toronto, and went back to see his family quite frequently. He was very charming and flirtatious. During the course of the flight, we chatted about everything from the woes of trying to date someone, when you are always flying, to the comfort of t-shirts and jeans.
I, of course, was oblivious to the fact that he was hitting on me, when he tried to do this silly bar joke on me, that backfired. The more that I laughed, the redder his face became. He made me blush, when he told me that I had the kind of eyes that he and his friends referred to as baby doll eyes. After awhile he pointed to my fake wedding ring, and asked me, "Isn't that bad luck?" I should have put my foot in my mouth, but instead I uttered, "I wear it so that I won't get hit on! I have given up on dating!" When I saw his face drop, I knew that I had missed an opportunity of a lifetime!
Knowing that I had said something extremely stupid, I knew that I had to do something to redeem myself. When we arrived at O'Hare, I knew that he had checked bags, so I raced down to baggage claim as fast as I could hoping to catch him, but he had already gone. I had blown my chance with a great guy who thought that I had baby doll eyes!
The one question that I get asked by my family and friends is, "How many men try to pick you up on when you are flying?" "If only it were that simple" I tell them.
With the onset of today's road warriors who carry an array of, laptops, cell phones, DVD, CD or MP3 players, PDAs and or Gameboys(r), most of them are far to self-absorbed, and engrossed in their game of solitaire to even notice the cute flight attendant who just handed them their, coffee... BLACK, orange juice.. NO ICE, and just a cup of water... when you get a chance!
Not to say that there aren't male passengers who try to get my digits, but they are generally the ones who fly once a year, and are still under the impression that my primary funtion is a "flying airmattress." Boy are they in for a surprise when they call the number that I slipped them, only to find out that it's the local chat line!
I have met some swell road warriors in my time. They usually occupy seat 1A. That seat is prime real estate if you are one of our top tier travelers. It's the closest to the door, great bulkhead legroom (as far as regional jets are concerned), and the flight attendant is your captive audience, since my jumpseat is facing you. If you just happen to be single, cute, and whitty, I just might find a second or two to chat you up. There have been alot of Mr. 1As that I have had the opportunity to interact with. A few I have gone out with on a layover, like a guy named Anton, who showed my all around Portland, Maine. As well as some that I wish I had gone out with, like Jason, the one that I am about to tell you about.
