Standing On A Chair

Telling it like I see it…

On Flight Attendant Rage – Part One

Heard about the outrageous actions of that now ex-JetBlue flight attendant? 

I flew for one of the major carriers from 1968 to 1973.  Back then we were called stewardesses. 

In my experience, Flight Attendant Rage is a condition instilled in you from the get-go.  Here’s how: 

After 6½ weeks of pretty intensive training, you’re assigned to your first domicile in Newark, New Jersey, where you will have to do a full year.  Starting pay is below poverty level, but you will be rewarded with a big bump in salary when you pass your 12-month probationary period, with free travel passes to follow!

Rentals are outrageous, so you share a studio with one roommate in downtown Newark, rather than a one-bedroom walk-up with ten roommates in Manhattan.

Your new, exciting, glamorous life suddenly finds you scarfing leftovers from passenger trays to stave off hunger, causing you to gain weight because you’re living mostly on desserts, whereupon they are slapping you on “weight-check” and sending you to a doctor for diet pills, which make you absolutely the friendliest server in the sky!

You’re having layovers in magnificent cities, where you take long walks and see fascinating things, but other than that you stay in your room because you’re broke.  You find yourself stealing toilet paper and towels, and anything not nailed down, from hotel rooms.

You’re hated by cab drivers because you can’t afford to tip.  They go out of their way to avoid you.

You have no life because you are a junior stewie, which means you live on “reserve,”  which means you must have your uniform ready and your official stewardess suitcase packed at all times.  You might only have an hour to make it to check-in.  Tardiness?  Not an option. You simply cannot be late.  Ever. 

You must work chartered trips:  The Cleveland Indians, who like to grope your ass while you pass by; The Hell’s Angels, who are all in a really bad mood because they’re flying to attend the funeral of a beloved leader; Mafia junkets from New York to Vegas, where the wives are heavily bejeweled, and the husbands are stuffing cash down the front of your uniform.

Through all this, you must above all, look enormously fabulous, and you must never, ever stop smiling.

I have just described the first three months in the life of a stewardess.  The tiny seed of Rage has been planted. 

Stay tuned for Part Two.

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October 5, 2010 - Posted by | Uncategorized |

2 Comments »

  1. Just read part one and two…great just so you know I am always polite to flight attendants and after reading this I will continue to be because I am now afraid of what they could or wish they could do to me…..love ya Barb

    Comment by Barb | October 14, 2010 | Reply

    • My opinion Barbara? We should worship flight attendants like they are gods and godesses! LOL! Love your comment. Love to you! Jill

      Comment by standingonachair | October 14, 2010 | Reply


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