Kayoh @ 190

Through the years I have been mistaken for being a flight attendant more frequently than I would like to remember. I have even had my own crew look at me with a puzzled look on their face wondering why they have an additional flight attendant on board that isn’t required by the FAA. Most assumptions are quelled when I make a left turn after walking onto the airplane and enter my office, the cockpit.

I am a little more lenient on the average passenger as most of them don’t know what the various uniforms and insignia mean.  All they see is a woman in a uniform of some sort which usually translates into “flight attendant”.

I have been handed trash, people’s coats that they want me to hang up for them, dirty diapers and slightly used vomit bags usually accompanied by a sheepish look of apology. I accept all of these things with a smile on my face, and do what needs to be done with them.

Last week, however, I was handed a full plate of fried chicken. Yep, fried chicken.

There was one seat left in first class and so the gate agent upgraded this nice looking gentleman to the big comfy seat. As he was moving up, he stuck his plate of fried chicken toward me and told me to put it away for him. For some reason I just stood there and looked at him. Didn’t say a word. He does it again. Sticks his plate of fried chicken in front of me and says, “Here, put this away”. The flight attendant who was working first class that day quickly stepped in and told him that she would look, but that she really didn’t think she had room. He comes back with “well they always put it away for me on every other flight”. At this point I just turned around and went right back into the cockpit. A move I feel slightly guilty about, having left the flight attendant alone to deal with this fine man.

I am not sure why the fried chicken elicited such a response from me. Perhaps it was just his execution, or lack thereof, that bothered me. But for some reason, I just could not go along with being handed the chicken. It just felt rude.