So Are We Legit Now?

A typical rainy Seattle day gave birth to 85 new flight attendants. The great hall was filled with lovable moochers who couldn't wait to reap our travel benefits. As excited as everyone was to cross the stage and receive their wings, I kept my eye on the real prize; mapping out the quickest route to the hors d'oeuvres table in the back. My name was called and the whole room cheered-and by whole room I mean my mother-and by mother, I mean a 4'11'' Asian woman whose clapping in a vast auditorium resembled a lonesome cricket in an expansive forest. I pitied the Inflight Supervisor who embraced me, as she wrapped her arms around my squishy back of a sweaty marshland. 

Officially as a legitimate member of the airline industry, it's time to take things seriously, and the first step to that...figuring out what the fuck I'm doing. What emergency equipment is onboard? How do you handle bomb threats? Whats an airplane? Although training is over, it doesn't mean the knowledge intake is. It just means I wont be graded on it and can do the absolute bare minimum to sneak on by (#whatarestandards?). With updated uniforms from the spring 2017 catalogue, these form fitting jackets really accentuate our drowning faces.

Slaughterhouse

Many class members filled their hotel room with delectable treats and packed their fridges to a Costco-like capacity. One woman had an entire box of meat sent from her home in Alaska. Having the reputation as a bottomless pit (aka a scavenger), people would provide me their surplus food (aka giving to the less fortunate). The most challenging item to cook on a portable one burner stove in the hotel were the 7 pounds of alaskan caribou and sheep I received. Having absolutely no idea what I was doing, I unwrapped the blood soaked paper to discover this rare tender piece of caribou ass.

After vomiting in my mouth, I seasoned the meat the only way i had been taught to...

As the hotel room filled with smoke (or perhaps it was just the sunglasses I was wearing), and olive oil sparked out of the pan, the moments of intrigue to try caribou quickly shifted to disgust. The fresh meat began to shrivel up and any remote moisture that the meat was supposed to retain, evaporated. As much as I wanted to claim that I was a master chef, I said fuck it and got donuts instead.

May I Have The Distraction Please

Sleepless hours of studying how to properly pour a Diet Coke on an airplane left us with a sugary taste in our mouth from the overwhelming struggle of learning its chemical compounds. Flight Attendant school was far more rigorous than anyone could have anticipated. Hours of memorizing, "would you like a drink sir/ma'am?" and what airline we worked for took a tremendous amount of concentration. But in an effort to not fry our brains, we took the one day off a week to destress and "treat yo self"

Like any experienced Flight Attendant, we played with balls

We drank....water (as to follow strict FAA regulations)

We followed a rare herd/gaggle/murder/flock of Polikes (half police, half bike)

We became sexually active