Sunday, October 10, 2010
I think the jumpseat possesses superpowers. Or more like, spewerpowers. You sit a flight attendant on that thing, and they spew out shit like the BP oil spill. I'm telling you, personal, personal 'I'm trying not to judge you but I totally am' kinda shit. I bet if you Googled "TMI", flight attendants are somewhere in the search results. We joke that it's 'free therapy' and it probably happens because there is safety in anonymity...in knowing that if I'm told you're cheating on your husband with a baggage handler in Dallas or the inner details of your struggles with Irritable Bowel Syndrome on the airplane, I won't give a fuck and I probably won't see you again for a couple of months or even years even if I did give a fuck. So verbal diarrhea ensues a lot on the J/S...I admit to it. Yeah, I've leaked some personal information (still kicking myself for telling blabbermouth Barb how I have all of Hanson's albums on my iPod currently) out of boredom to an almost complete stranger. When you're stuck and there's no one else to talk to but eachother, when you're tired of bitching about the flight at hand and company matters, have eaten all the left-overs, & have read and re-read all the newspapers and magazines we hoard, we tend to spill out our deepest, darkest secrets. I know some shit ya'll...yes I do, and I think I'm decently good at keeping secrets, but get me on that J/S, and man, I'll tell you all that shit...that I know.
'MmmBop ba duba dop, ba du bop........'