The Stewardess Monologues:
Revised and Revisited
by William Schrul
Flight attendants are all the same. We deal with the same crap, just
in different uniforms. We point to the same exits, and we say the
same things. "I'll be right back," said by any flight attendant, on
any airline, on any day, means the same thing: F You!
Often times, passengers are like badly behaving children, and you
just wanna spank them, just like that lady who beat her child in the
K-Mart parking lot a few years back. "All my friends who fly on
AMERICAN get to hold their over sized luggage on their laps while
sitting in an exit row." Oh yeah? Well, listen mister. As long as
you're under my fuselage, you're gonna follow my rules. And I don't
care what other flight attendants let your friends do!
But sometimes they're completely unassuming and innocent. You know
the ones - you're coming down the aisle with your beverage cart and
they want to pay you a dollar for their coke, and you just have to
say to them, "I can't take that dollar from you. It's two-fifty." And
then they tip you on top of it.
Let's talk about the seat belt sign for a minute, shall we? The
minute it goes on they all decide to get out of their seats and use
the bathroom. I wish I could invent a PA system that could direct my
announcements to any one seat or lavatory. I'd never leave my
jump seat. Let's say you have someone who goes into the bathroom after
you've told them that the seat belt sign is on. Just go over to your
jump seat panel and type in "aft lavatory 3L," and make your desired
announcement. "Attention! This is the toilet speaking! Get your fat
ass off me and get back to your seat! The seat belt sign is on! And I
KNEW you dyed your hair!"
Speaking of announcements, don't you just love it when one of the
pilots blabs on about all sorts of technical crap? "We'll be landing
on runway twenty-one right..." Like somebody is actually sitting
there excited beyond belief, thinking, "Oh my God! That's my all time
favorite runway!" I know I am.
Passengers are very inquisitive, always with the questions. "What are
we flying over?" Your luggage. "What's in the lasagna?" A free round
trip ticket. "Will I make my connecting flight?" I'll be right back...
I like to be up at the front door during passenger boarding. They
say things like: "How old is this airplane?" It's the Wright Brother's
original, we just pieced it back together. "If you're oversold and need
any volunteers, let us know." Oh, don't worry, you'll probably be removed
for weight and balance anyway. "Twenty-one F and G?" Nice mouth, lady.
Or, they'll get it backwards. "B 21?"
Damn, you sank my battleship. And then they look into the cockpit,
with parents always trying to thrust their children on up there. "Oh
honey, look. Look at the Captain. Look at all those switches. Go say
hi. Go say hello, Ashley. Go on." Poor Ashley has no interest in all
those switches, and usually ends up crying. Well, of course she's
upset. She knows as soon as she gets up there that one of them will
be asking her for their crew meal or for a cup of coffee. The pilots
will just think that the airline has lowered the hiring age to seven
and changed the uniform to Granimals. Yup, instead of a paper route
like all the other kids, poor Ashley has to do a Chicago turn before
dinner, then it's homework and off to bed.
Nobody ever seems to notice the flight attendants during boarding,
unless it's to throw away their half gallon Starbucks Coffee cups.
They never ask us to take their picture in the galley while they pose
next to the coffee maker. It's the same thing when they're
leaving. "Thanks, great flight!" they say to the pilots, who did
nothing but make annoying announcements the whole time. We're the
ones who supplied them with enough salty snacks and carbonated
beverages to give them rancid gas, bad enough to bring the masks
down. I swear, sometimes I get so frustrated I point to the wrong
exits just out of spite. And the sad thing is, nobody notices.
Now we have to "brief" the exit rows prior to departure. They don't
care, they don't even bother to look up. "In the event of an
emergency..." No response. "Look for fire before opening the exit..."
Faces hidden behind newspapers. "Death, destruction, bloody, severed
limbs..." Still nothing. "And we've just canceled our Mileage program,
all miles expire tonight at midnight." "What? Oh my God!
We've got to get out of here!" Yeah, that always gets a reaction.
Frequent Flier miles. Everything seems to be justified by how many
miles they have. "Sir, you simply cannot be smacking around a flight
attendant like that. It's against the law. What? You have Super Gold
status? Yes, well, that IS a lot of miles. You certainly can slap a
flight attendant, sir. Yes, you can. Here, let me get you another
one, you can slap two of them with that kind of mileage." And don't
ever make a joke about cutting their frequent flyer card in half.
Trust me. Take their wife and children, but leave the card alone!
Our work group is quite interesting, and very diverse. Take the more
senior flight attendants. These women have been around since the
flying boat. And God love 'em. They'll never retire. And I've come up
with an invention so that they'll never have to. It's called FLIGHT
ATTENDS. That's right, no more lagging beverage services because
senior Betty is in the can again. No more jump seat accidents, or
unsightly stains on their uniforms. I can just imagine that
peeing-in-the-pool look on their faces when I ask them to pass me
a 7UP.
And pregnant flight attendants! What a brilliant idea! I tell you, if
I were a woman I'd buy a maternity dress and have it with me at all
times. As soon as I was on the plane, I'd slip it on and stuff myself
so I would look about 8.5 months pregnant. I bet no one messes with
me then! "Sir, we're out of the chicken, but I do have the lasagna."
He would go to open his mouth to say something, as they always do,
because we all know that not getting your first meal choice is the
end of the world, and I would just start moaning and grabbing at my
stomach. "Oh, I think my water just broke," I'd cry. I'd be
invincible, they'd all be putty in the palm of my hands, because
believe me, nobody wants to be responsible for killing your unborn
baby. I'm so jealous.
I just love it when you come down the aisle and they all have their
headphones on. I don't even talk anymore, I just move my lips. Why
waste my breath when they don't even take them off to hear what I'm
saying? Okay, I'm standing in front of you with a beverage cart, what
do you think I'm asking you? "Would you like your pap smear before or
after dinner ma'am?" And then they scream really loudly, "What?!?
What?!?" So to get back at them, I wear my Walkman while on the cart.
I get to their row and I just scream, "What would you like to
drink?!? What?!? What?!? I can't hear you!!!"
Did you ever wonder about having to pay for drinks and movies? Well,
I have a little secret for you: Those movies and drinks have always
been free in economy! It's true! The flight attendants all got
together one day and decided, "they're in economy, no one will ever
know the difference-let's charge them and keep the money." Oh, and
something else you should know. Those masks that drop down really
don't work unless your in first class. Just FYI.
I'm always amused when passengers think they're gonna get me
fired. "I want your name. I WANT YOUR NAME!" Please, I didn't just
fall off the catering truck yesterday. I'm union! I could torch your
house in full uniform, and I'd still have my job. And if they
persist, I will give them my name, followed by, "Go ahead and write,
but you'd better hurry. This is my last flight. I gave my notice two
weeks ago." The veins bulging on the sides of their necks make it all
worth it.
Passengers always seem to have these "quick questions." But the funny
thing is, they never are. Twenty-five minutes later, I'm still
wondering where the hell this diatribe-containing missing luggage,
snowstorms, double miles, and ordering special meals-is going. "Oh,
I'm sorry, we're out of time. Too bad you didn't get around to asking
your `quick question.' But hold that thought, I'll be right back."
Now that the airlines have dropped the fares to below Greyhound
prices, a new breed of passenger has emerged. My dentist would have a
field day with all the missing teeth. We're talking beer before nine
AM and pre-Jenny Jones makeover candidates. "What do you mean
there's no pillows, blankets, playing cards, wings, or food?" Listen.
You're lucky we even have two engines. These people are paying
ninety-nine dollars for a round trip coast to coast ticket, I'm making
thirty per cent less every paycheck, and they want wings? Here, take
mine! And now there's a new question that's reared it's ugly
head: "What do you have?" Yes, the beverage cart question. Every row
it's the same thing, like the selection will be different when I get
to their row. "I'm sorry. If only you were seated in an even numbered
row you could have had the Dr. Pepper. Your row's choices are
Diet Rite Cola or cloudy tap water."
"What do you have?" I'm medicated now, so it's no problem for me to
recite the whole list three hundred times. "We have Pepsi, Diet
Pepsi, 7UP, Diet 7UP, Ginger Ale ... here, slide over, this might take
a while once I get to the liquor mini drawer." I've learned my
lesson, but some flight attendants never do. When asked what we have,
they'll respond, "Well, what would you like?" Big mistake. I've heard
things like grape juice, Tang, Sunny D., casaba melon juice ... and
then they always end up settling for-you guessed it- a Pepsi!
And don't forget about the connection-slash-time change
questions. "Oh my God! I've just been looking at my ticket, and we've
got five minutes to make our connecting flight." "We're arriving ten
minutes early, are you sure?" "Yes, it says so right
here." "Chicago's on Central Time." A blank stare follows. "That
means they're an hour behind New York." Still, nothing. "Yes, you'll
make you're connection." "Will they hold the plane for us?" "Yes,
they'll be waiting for you."
But some things never change. Once the plane has landed, why is it
that everybody has to get their bags out into the aisle and get into
that half-seated, half-in-the-sprinting position like they're gonna
run a race? We're still moving and some people even start to get up -
excuse me, we're not even at the gate yet! Where are you gonna go?
It's times like these that I wish I had an emergency brake located by
my jump seat. The kind like they have on the subway. I would pull that
thing so hard that people would be flying out the cockpit window. But
unfortunately, Boeing and Airbus don't ask for flight attendant input
on this type of thing. Or on anything, come to think of it.
We're always in the media. "Flight Attendant confessions on the next
Maury," "Flight Attendants who point to the exits with their middle
fingers," "Flight Attendants admit doing the safety demo wrong on
purpose, on the next Sally." Oprah's newest book club
selection: "When Bad Passengers Happen to Good Flight Attendants."
The new Learning Annex seminar: "Flight Attendants are from Mars,
Passengers are from Hell."
And then there's the family. Every year at Thanksgiving it's the same
thing. "So, you're still with The Airlines?" What's with this "The
Airlines" crap? I work for ONE AIRLINE, not ALL of them! "Well, I'm
usually with UNITED, but last week AIR FRANCE called me, and you know
the French, I just couldn't say no. Next thing I know, I'm on the
Concord to Paris." And God forbid there's ever an accident, my mother
will get so many calls. "Oh my God, I hope he's okay." "That was a
Russian Airline. He works for United," she'll tell them. "Well, we
know he's with THE AIRLINES, so we weren't sure. Are you sure he
wasn't on it?" "Let me check," she'll say. "I'll be right back."
Revised and Revisited
by William Schrul
Flight attendants are all the same. We deal with the same crap, just
in different uniforms. We point to the same exits, and we say the
same things. "I'll be right back," said by any flight attendant, on
any airline, on any day, means the same thing: F You!
Often times, passengers are like badly behaving children, and you
just wanna spank them, just like that lady who beat her child in the
K-Mart parking lot a few years back. "All my friends who fly on
AMERICAN get to hold their over sized luggage on their laps while
sitting in an exit row." Oh yeah? Well, listen mister. As long as
you're under my fuselage, you're gonna follow my rules. And I don't
care what other flight attendants let your friends do!
But sometimes they're completely unassuming and innocent. You know
the ones - you're coming down the aisle with your beverage cart and
they want to pay you a dollar for their coke, and you just have to
say to them, "I can't take that dollar from you. It's two-fifty." And
then they tip you on top of it.
Let's talk about the seat belt sign for a minute, shall we? The
minute it goes on they all decide to get out of their seats and use
the bathroom. I wish I could invent a PA system that could direct my
announcements to any one seat or lavatory. I'd never leave my
jump seat. Let's say you have someone who goes into the bathroom after
you've told them that the seat belt sign is on. Just go over to your
jump seat panel and type in "aft lavatory 3L," and make your desired
announcement. "Attention! This is the toilet speaking! Get your fat
ass off me and get back to your seat! The seat belt sign is on! And I
KNEW you dyed your hair!"
Speaking of announcements, don't you just love it when one of the
pilots blabs on about all sorts of technical crap? "We'll be landing
on runway twenty-one right..." Like somebody is actually sitting
there excited beyond belief, thinking, "Oh my God! That's my all time
favorite runway!" I know I am.
Passengers are very inquisitive, always with the questions. "What are
we flying over?" Your luggage. "What's in the lasagna?" A free round
trip ticket. "Will I make my connecting flight?" I'll be right back...
I like to be up at the front door during passenger boarding. They
say things like: "How old is this airplane?" It's the Wright Brother's
original, we just pieced it back together. "If you're oversold and need
any volunteers, let us know." Oh, don't worry, you'll probably be removed
for weight and balance anyway. "Twenty-one F and G?" Nice mouth, lady.
Or, they'll get it backwards. "B 21?"
Damn, you sank my battleship. And then they look into the cockpit,
with parents always trying to thrust their children on up there. "Oh
honey, look. Look at the Captain. Look at all those switches. Go say
hi. Go say hello, Ashley. Go on." Poor Ashley has no interest in all
those switches, and usually ends up crying. Well, of course she's
upset. She knows as soon as she gets up there that one of them will
be asking her for their crew meal or for a cup of coffee. The pilots
will just think that the airline has lowered the hiring age to seven
and changed the uniform to Granimals. Yup, instead of a paper route
like all the other kids, poor Ashley has to do a Chicago turn before
dinner, then it's homework and off to bed.
Nobody ever seems to notice the flight attendants during boarding,
unless it's to throw away their half gallon Starbucks Coffee cups.
They never ask us to take their picture in the galley while they pose
next to the coffee maker. It's the same thing when they're
leaving. "Thanks, great flight!" they say to the pilots, who did
nothing but make annoying announcements the whole time. We're the
ones who supplied them with enough salty snacks and carbonated
beverages to give them rancid gas, bad enough to bring the masks
down. I swear, sometimes I get so frustrated I point to the wrong
exits just out of spite. And the sad thing is, nobody notices.
Now we have to "brief" the exit rows prior to departure. They don't
care, they don't even bother to look up. "In the event of an
emergency..." No response. "Look for fire before opening the exit..."
Faces hidden behind newspapers. "Death, destruction, bloody, severed
limbs..." Still nothing. "And we've just canceled our Mileage program,
all miles expire tonight at midnight." "What? Oh my God!
We've got to get out of here!" Yeah, that always gets a reaction.
Frequent Flier miles. Everything seems to be justified by how many
miles they have. "Sir, you simply cannot be smacking around a flight
attendant like that. It's against the law. What? You have Super Gold
status? Yes, well, that IS a lot of miles. You certainly can slap a
flight attendant, sir. Yes, you can. Here, let me get you another
one, you can slap two of them with that kind of mileage." And don't
ever make a joke about cutting their frequent flyer card in half.
Trust me. Take their wife and children, but leave the card alone!
Our work group is quite interesting, and very diverse. Take the more
senior flight attendants. These women have been around since the
flying boat. And God love 'em. They'll never retire. And I've come up
with an invention so that they'll never have to. It's called FLIGHT
ATTENDS. That's right, no more lagging beverage services because
senior Betty is in the can again. No more jump seat accidents, or
unsightly stains on their uniforms. I can just imagine that
peeing-in-the-pool look on their faces when I ask them to pass me
a 7UP.
And pregnant flight attendants! What a brilliant idea! I tell you, if
I were a woman I'd buy a maternity dress and have it with me at all
times. As soon as I was on the plane, I'd slip it on and stuff myself
so I would look about 8.5 months pregnant. I bet no one messes with
me then! "Sir, we're out of the chicken, but I do have the lasagna."
He would go to open his mouth to say something, as they always do,
because we all know that not getting your first meal choice is the
end of the world, and I would just start moaning and grabbing at my
stomach. "Oh, I think my water just broke," I'd cry. I'd be
invincible, they'd all be putty in the palm of my hands, because
believe me, nobody wants to be responsible for killing your unborn
baby. I'm so jealous.
I just love it when you come down the aisle and they all have their
headphones on. I don't even talk anymore, I just move my lips. Why
waste my breath when they don't even take them off to hear what I'm
saying? Okay, I'm standing in front of you with a beverage cart, what
do you think I'm asking you? "Would you like your pap smear before or
after dinner ma'am?" And then they scream really loudly, "What?!?
What?!?" So to get back at them, I wear my Walkman while on the cart.
I get to their row and I just scream, "What would you like to
drink?!? What?!? What?!? I can't hear you!!!"
Did you ever wonder about having to pay for drinks and movies? Well,
I have a little secret for you: Those movies and drinks have always
been free in economy! It's true! The flight attendants all got
together one day and decided, "they're in economy, no one will ever
know the difference-let's charge them and keep the money." Oh, and
something else you should know. Those masks that drop down really
don't work unless your in first class. Just FYI.
I'm always amused when passengers think they're gonna get me
fired. "I want your name. I WANT YOUR NAME!" Please, I didn't just
fall off the catering truck yesterday. I'm union! I could torch your
house in full uniform, and I'd still have my job. And if they
persist, I will give them my name, followed by, "Go ahead and write,
but you'd better hurry. This is my last flight. I gave my notice two
weeks ago." The veins bulging on the sides of their necks make it all
worth it.
Passengers always seem to have these "quick questions." But the funny
thing is, they never are. Twenty-five minutes later, I'm still
wondering where the hell this diatribe-containing missing luggage,
snowstorms, double miles, and ordering special meals-is going. "Oh,
I'm sorry, we're out of time. Too bad you didn't get around to asking
your `quick question.' But hold that thought, I'll be right back."
Now that the airlines have dropped the fares to below Greyhound
prices, a new breed of passenger has emerged. My dentist would have a
field day with all the missing teeth. We're talking beer before nine
AM and pre-Jenny Jones makeover candidates. "What do you mean
there's no pillows, blankets, playing cards, wings, or food?" Listen.
You're lucky we even have two engines. These people are paying
ninety-nine dollars for a round trip coast to coast ticket, I'm making
thirty per cent less every paycheck, and they want wings? Here, take
mine! And now there's a new question that's reared it's ugly
head: "What do you have?" Yes, the beverage cart question. Every row
it's the same thing, like the selection will be different when I get
to their row. "I'm sorry. If only you were seated in an even numbered
row you could have had the Dr. Pepper. Your row's choices are
Diet Rite Cola or cloudy tap water."
"What do you have?" I'm medicated now, so it's no problem for me to
recite the whole list three hundred times. "We have Pepsi, Diet
Pepsi, 7UP, Diet 7UP, Ginger Ale ... here, slide over, this might take
a while once I get to the liquor mini drawer." I've learned my
lesson, but some flight attendants never do. When asked what we have,
they'll respond, "Well, what would you like?" Big mistake. I've heard
things like grape juice, Tang, Sunny D., casaba melon juice ... and
then they always end up settling for-you guessed it- a Pepsi!
And don't forget about the connection-slash-time change
questions. "Oh my God! I've just been looking at my ticket, and we've
got five minutes to make our connecting flight." "We're arriving ten
minutes early, are you sure?" "Yes, it says so right
here." "Chicago's on Central Time." A blank stare follows. "That
means they're an hour behind New York." Still, nothing. "Yes, you'll
make you're connection." "Will they hold the plane for us?" "Yes,
they'll be waiting for you."
But some things never change. Once the plane has landed, why is it
that everybody has to get their bags out into the aisle and get into
that half-seated, half-in-the-sprinting position like they're gonna
run a race? We're still moving and some people even start to get up -
excuse me, we're not even at the gate yet! Where are you gonna go?
It's times like these that I wish I had an emergency brake located by
my jump seat. The kind like they have on the subway. I would pull that
thing so hard that people would be flying out the cockpit window. But
unfortunately, Boeing and Airbus don't ask for flight attendant input
on this type of thing. Or on anything, come to think of it.
We're always in the media. "Flight Attendant confessions on the next
Maury," "Flight Attendants who point to the exits with their middle
fingers," "Flight Attendants admit doing the safety demo wrong on
purpose, on the next Sally." Oprah's newest book club
selection: "When Bad Passengers Happen to Good Flight Attendants."
The new Learning Annex seminar: "Flight Attendants are from Mars,
Passengers are from Hell."
And then there's the family. Every year at Thanksgiving it's the same
thing. "So, you're still with The Airlines?" What's with this "The
Airlines" crap? I work for ONE AIRLINE, not ALL of them! "Well, I'm
usually with UNITED, but last week AIR FRANCE called me, and you know
the French, I just couldn't say no. Next thing I know, I'm on the
Concord to Paris." And God forbid there's ever an accident, my mother
will get so many calls. "Oh my God, I hope he's okay." "That was a
Russian Airline. He works for United," she'll tell them. "Well, we
know he's with THE AIRLINES, so we weren't sure. Are you sure he
wasn't on it?" "Let me check," she'll say. "I'll be right back."
