I Was a Flight Attendant

A ‘Period Dignity Officer’ Seemed Like a Good Idea. Until a Man Was Named.

After a while, the man-on-the-plane thing just got monotonous.

I read somewhere, long ago, that when a flight attendant has to give a seat to someone, she usually gives them a little card with a personal name that the passenger can write on.

So, I thought, Why not give the passenger a little card, too?

I’d already picked out my card. A name. And I’d written it down, so I just had to take it out of my wallet.

It was a bit of an adventure. I didn’t have to get up early to look at my card, but I did get up early. I spent the day wandering the airport. I watched people get on and off planes. I watched the planes get fueled, and I watched the planes return to the gate. I watched the people get off the planes, and I watched the people get on the planes.

And I decided I didn’t want to be a flight attendant anymore.

It’s not that I didn’t like helping people get on planes and getting them off of them. It’s that I’d had enough of all those people to the left and to the right. In the distance, I could see someone sitting down, and right there, I knew I had to go get him.

We stood around and waited a while. I was tempted to buy some coffee and get on the phone and talk to the passenger. The fact that he was a total stranger was a plus.

He was just staring out the window, probably wondering why he was getting off two hours earlier than he’d thought he’d get on. The other passengers were all seated. On the other hand, I was there. I was going to get my coffee sometime.

If my imagination was any good, though, he was probably just trying to keep from fainting.

It turns out that this passenger really had no idea I was there. It turns out he just looked

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