Not Just a Flight Attendant but a Comedian Too!

So I'm working the beverage cart and the man to my immediate right accidentally dings the call light while going for his reading light. He fixes his mistake right away but it's been a boring day (no medicals or escaping UMs) so I decide to fuck with him.

I say dramatically for all within the area to hear with crazy Gumby arms..."Sir! I'm RIGHT here. Can't you see?...you're next, geez (insert eye roll, head toss)!"

Wait for it....wait for it...awkward silence...horrified face...tail between legs...and then I bust out into a smile and all is hilarious.

I turn to the party to my left now and they ask me for like 7 drinks all at once but I love them because they laughed at my joke. So I fuck with them too.

I say "Whoa, hold up, hold up...I'm just a dumb flight attendant. One at a time, speak slowly, and please pause inbetween." I love them more because they laughed more and as I run their credit card purchases I ask if I can put my 'worthless college education' on their tab.  I have 'em rolling. Man, I'm working the crowd today.

But one person didn't think I was funny...the flight attendant working across the cart from me. Hater. I think her Spanx must've been a bit too tight.

The Magic of 275 degrees at 20min

No matter what it is, seems like anything can be made in a convection oven on an airplane with this formula: 275 degrees, 20min.  I'm telling you, it's some Easy Bake oven magic shit. Cheeseburgers, chicken, steak, soup, eggs, frozen dinners, whatever, in about 20min, it's good to go. I wouldn't be surprised if you even threw in your knitting and ding! You now have your scarf.  How about Friday's USA Today crossword? Completed. Trying to get through War & Peace? Or anything by Rush Limbaugh maybe? Pop it in and poof! it's read for you.  But if you are reading anything in the rightist family of Limbaugh, Coulter, or O'Reilly, I'll throw you in the oven and hope, hope, hope that in 20 minutes, you'll come out a decent human being. If that doesn't work, I'll try 375 at forever.

Short-Man Syndrome

How dare my assumptions lie to me. I imagined glamourously swimming in a plethora of pilots who closely resembled George Clooney and Brad Pitt before I first started in this industry.  But no, instead, I've been witness to what I like to call Short-Man Syndrome. 4 out of 5 pilots seem to suffer from this disease.  It's when if the said pilot quite commonly happens to look like a cross between a garden gnome, an Oompa Loompa, and Santa Claus, and thus, they have no choice but to overcompensate. (The rare female pilot is excluded.)

Overcompensate with what?  Let's see...American flag ties and patriotic pins, patchwork leather bomber jackets, bad jokes (sometimes over the PA in which when this happens, I want to yell 'FIRE!' or if we are in the air "WE'RE GOING DOWN!" so I can drown the douche out with screaming), moustaches, when they come out of the flight deck for a potty break they make such a scene so that the whole cabin can see who's "in command", giving TMI (ex. "We will be taking off from runway Alpha Delta Foxtrot 29er and then will be making a left turn over the Cascade Mt. Range and then a right turn towards China where we will ascend to exactly 36,000ft in which the ride will be smooth until we fly over Never Never Land where we may hit some mildly severe turbulence, blah, blah, no one fucking cares, blaaaaaaaaaah."), and finally, the short man almost always carries a gun for protection. You never see the ever so rare 'average to attractive' looking pilot carrying that shit.  Just sayin'...

PUSH HERE...no here! no no there! no, right here.

Ya know, one reason why I love my job is that I get to feel really, really, really smart when I see everyone else being really, really, really stupid. For example...

'PUSH HERE'. Seemingly, a simple instruction.  Apparently 99% of the flying public doesn't think so. This sign is clearly displayed on the lavatory bi-fold doors on the aircraft in which I work on.  Supposedly, you push on the placard practically shouting these instructions, and WAHLAH! MAGIC! The door folds inward and BAM!...you can now drop the kids off at the pool and hopefully wash your hands. 

Nope, not that simple apparently. It is unfreakingbelieveable the struggles I witness in trying to gain access to the lavatory.  I don't know how 'PUSH HERE' can be confused with 'pull ashtray', 'rotate imaginary handle', 'kick me', 'walk right thru', or any other command.  I kinda get some sadistic enjoyment in watching the horror on the faces of especially the woman in the power suit or the guy reading the Wall Street Journal taking 4-13 attempts to open the bathroom door. They hate that I'm watching them fiddle aimlessly with this rocket science. After the first few attempts, they surrender and look to me in desperation. I'm like God in this moment.  I lift my index finger, and painfully slow, I markedly motion across their field of vision, drawing their attention to the obvious sign. Fake LOL laughter ensues from embarrassment.  My mouth and eyes smile in pity until the door locks behind them and then my true stoic face and rolled eyes now waits for the emergency lav chime to go off instead of a flush because they missed that button RIGHT NEXT TO THEIR ASS too.