A Cold, Lonely Layover… or so I thought so…

December was a horrible month. I was away flying for the upteenth year over the Christmas holiday. Did I interview against several thousands of other great candidates and say I would FLY every holiday for a bazillion years? YES! Did I say I would do it with a smile?YES! Well, that is what I did. I smiled through my tears, as many a flight attendant does. Onset the flu. I was caring for my crash mate in our posh pad. His fever went up, up and up. We had been on reserve for the past 3 days. I had felt like junk all day too. BUT I needed to get out of domicile and then I could be busy and stop missing my family so much and remembering that I am once again, alone. I ran to the pharmacy to spend some of my left over flex spending that I was going to lose from 2012 on my bestie and my sick crash mate before my high yield 4day began. Well, as I am there.. I toss my cookies. I feel horrible and I suddenly am shivering violently. I ask the pharmacy for a flu shot. She chuckles, “too late”. I know that. I was a nursing major for over 2.5 years. Duh, dumb ass. Go home. See your Dr. tomorrow. Get tamiflu, IF its available. I would be sick off and on til January because when you fly, it can and most of the time, does, affect your ears. That is what happened to me. I had ruptured an eardrum on final descent about 4 years ago. Since then, my ear always aches and gets ‘affected’ when I am sick. I am happy to fly in January. This ear is a pain in the…. ear. I get assigned a GEG . Nothing too grand but I do like that I am at a nice hotel for 33 hours .. One leg in.. one leg home. Boom. My crew immediately is, well, gonna be a bit of, ‘slam click-y’. Not a problem. I have plans to take a bunch of meds.. maybe try and run in the snow .. and sleep off the residual of the flu. The next day I get bored. I walk to the mall. I have gift cards for Nordies and Macy’s. I am bored. I look in North Face and die wanting a new jacket. I have one for Christmas just in the process of arriving. I get ear muffs and decide to tackle a snowy trail and take on the happy hour for wine after. I run about 3.5 miles and decide how freezing I feel. My ear aches like a beez. I head back to the hotel. A Capt. I am friends with has messaged and told me that this place is a 4$$$$ steak place, but crew from DL, US and UAL go there for happy hour and they give us great discounts. The bartenders are from Gonzaga University and we chat. I get comp’d a good Pinot Noir. Not my fav.. but not a prob when its free:-) I run into one of our pilots. Dodge. Dodge. Aint nobody got time for that. I do not socialize much alone with pilots. I dated one at my former airline and he was a freak.. no thank you, no more. When your a flight attendant you can spot them like white to short grain or jasmine rice. Bam. Order my soup and I am off to my 12th floor pad. The next morning I head down to the lobby early as there is a Starbucks down there and I want to get a hot, strong capp. I notice that same pilot sitting in the leather couch. Okay..its the usual conversation between crew, “Hey. When did you come in? Oh did you have a good layover? Long or short?….’ I ask him to watch my bags while I head to Sbux. Well, the espresso part is broken. Great. He makes a remark about my being too high maint. Okay.. He’s a little bit funny. Only because he’s feisty and I like that. On the way to the airport, everyone is talking about how cold it is. Football. I am a girl, but I know my football. The first officer, Mike, turns around and he asks who my team is .. I tell him , “THE winning team.. You know. The 9ers. ” he winks. He says , “Yeah good decision with Kaepernick.” In the airport we pass a Sbux. The A flight attendant says she’s stopping because we still have 15 minutes before we have to report to gate. He tells us how there is a Sbux down by the gate. I know there is not. So I tell this snarky pilot so. Then because he is so adamant that there IS a Starbucks, I say, ‘WELL, MR. Pilot Mike , oh wise one, IF there is NO Sbux there, THEN you should march your smart self right back here and buy Michelle and I java from THIS Sbux. ’ … He is so taken aback by me, he starts laughing but his mouth is a little like , ‘OMG!’ as he turns around to me and says, ‘Whoa! I can NOT believe you called me out like that!’. I had to laugh. He went on to say that I was a piece of work and a little to much of a ball buster for my own good. I take a little sting to that comment. In the past few months I have been called a ball buster by 3 pilots. Again, I want them to get on the plane. Get in the flight deck. Get in my galley , IF I am working lead , very little. I am nice. But not overly nice. I don’t want to be confused with THAT flight attendant. I have several friends who are married to pilots, an obvious in our career field, and several that date them. I also know alot of them live a little bit of a double life. I just stay away from it. So his remark, stings. We approach the gate and there is no Sbux. There is a pub with drip coffee. I say nothing. Me and the A grab our coffees and purchase fruit and get on the plane. We do our preflight checks. Cabin checks. All is okay. That plane is cold and I sip my coffee. I’d love to keep my coat on but I take it off and slip on my old airlines blue cashmere sweater over my white uniform long sleeve blouse. I am not in base. It looks legit. Mike comes up from the tarmac and says, “How is that Sbux?’ I kind of make a snide but quiet remark about how he was wrong. But I let it go at that. During boarding I stand in first class welcoming passengers on board and he is behind me very close for some reason. He says into my hair almost, “Sorry about that Sbux. I’ll go get you what you want, if you want?” I say, “No that is okay. BUT you know you are in my hair?” .. He says, ” I like it. It smells good.” I walk off to close overhead bins. During the flight the Capt. calls the A and wants a lav break. Mike wants me to come forward not the B Fa. Okay. I go. I guard the flight deck door and he comes out of the cockpit and asks how it all is in ‘back’ . I say, ‘its fine’..He comes back out of lav and looks for snax. He asks if I am done in base. I say, that I am. Back in the FD. He calls and asks if it is me on the interphone. Says he has a message. Great I have been tagged to continue on another trip. But they can’t I say. I have been flying too many days and that would take my day off away. Illegal. He says that he is relaying the message from dispatch. He calls back. “IF I get you out of that tag, will you buy me a beer?” Nonetheless. The ‘tag’ was a joke. He bought the beer. He was on call the next day. So we had to get our beer quick. How does a girl like me dress with a pilot. They usually dress….ummm… well… outdoorsy? average? I wear my skinny Joes Jeans…tucked into riding boots.. a long trench..hat and jCrew necked sweater. It is what it is. We have a beer. Then we sample a sampling of 3. He tells me since his divorce I am the 2nd girl hes been out with. He could not handle the first. Date over in an hour. He asks me to come back to his crash pad for pizza and wine. I balk at pilots all around. He says, ‘PLEASE!’ about 5x. Okay . I go. I left his place at 1030p. He kissed me sweetly. That was a month ago. Dating a 10 year reserve FO is strange. Our schedules are both not meshing. But now I get why it hasn’t worked well with other guys. I speak a different lingo and language and so does he. We live a life that many outside of aviation don’t understand. We were to go to brunch this morning. I was on call but way low to fly. He was too. All hell broke in pilot world. He got a call for a 3day. Had to leave asap for his trip. I get it. Tonight he is somewhere away , far away. He said he missed me. Send a cute pic, please. Safe flying tomorrow, sweetie.

Broke my own rule. Dating a hot pilot. Who knew that would ever be me.