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.
I witnessed a rare display of gratefulness and humanity that I just have to share…it made my day, quite possibly my month.
I was standing around in one of the concourses at the Phoenix airport while waiting for my airplane to arrive. Meanwhile, an airplane had parked a few gates down and the majority of the passengers getting off that airplane were military personnel coming home on leave. As these “kids” (they are definitely getting younger, because I am surely not getting older!) were streaming into the terminal in the uniform of the various branches, I watched as every other passenger in that particular building stood up and applauded until the very last one came off that airplane. I was completely moved and in awe that we, as Americans with all of our faults still have a deep sense of patriotism no matter what. I was so proud to witness and be a part of a small gesture to show our troops that they are appreciated.
The trip I am on now is a delightful mix of cities and countries. I just spent the previous two evenings in Toronto, tonight I will be in Boise and tomorrow will take me to Puerto Vallarta. I love trips like this where each of the cities that I go to are so completely different from one another.
Because several of my flights on this trip include international destinations, I spend more time than usual walking between the international and domestic gates. There are usually large distances between gates (sometimes even a mile or more) that need to be covered in short periods of time, especially if you need to grab a bite to eat or use the restroom (any restroom other than an airplane lav is a welcomed treat during the day!). The distance in itself isn’t really a problem, but trying to walk a mile zig-zagging through the crowds while dragging your luggage behind you can get a little hairy. You learn how to do this “airport walk” over time with speed and grace. The one thing I never get used to, though, are the “diagonal walkers”. You know, the person you end up walking behind who is on their cell phone or is just looking around trying to figure out where they are going. The person who walks diagonally in front of you, limiting your options to get around them smoothly. I haven’t yet figured out this phenomena, but it is so prevalent in the travelers of today’s airports that there must be some link between walking and distraction that causes people to walk in a diagonal. Would it be rude to stop somebody one of these days and ask them if they realize that they’re walking diagonally? I’m just curious!
There are also the people who just stop in the middle of the concourse. The “stoppers” I really can’t complain too much about since we are all guilty of that one! 
Also on this trip I received my first stamp in my shiny new passport! Of course, it was from the U.S. The one stamp in my passport at this very moment is from the United States….apparently I should have asked Canada and Mexico for a stamp. Next time!