“Excuse me, stewardess – I mean flight attendant!” is something I actually still hear from time to time on the airplane, and that mistake is usually followed by a blush or a giggle, and if the person is elderly, an explanation as to why he or she had just called me stewardess, which usually begins with, “Back in my day…”
Well back in my day we actually served warm rolls in coach along with three entree choices. And we handed out a diverse selection of magazines before the flight even took off. And we could actually enjoy the layovers by eating, showering AND sleeping. We even had pillows and blankets for everyone! Though don’t forget, ticket prices were expensive. But that meant flights were empty, so there were window and aisle seats galore, resulting in smiling happy passengers! That was just thirteen years ago. Perhaps back in your day things were even more different, and by different you know I mean better, a whole heck of a lot better. My how things have changed. I’m not just talking about your flying experience, I’m talking about the stewardess and passenger alike, because the stewardess isn’t the only one that’s gotten a little older and crankier over the years.
When I think of a stewardess, I think of the glamour of days gone by, which are days I never got to see, the days of luxury travel, white gloves, pill box hats, and piano bars on a 747. So when someone calls me a stewardess, I am not offended. Not. At. All. In fact, just the opposite happens. I’m flattered! I mean who doesn’t want to be a stewardess? Trust me when I tell you that we – me, her, maybe even him, and perhaps you! – have dreamed about living the life of a stewardess. Minus the age, weight, and marriage restrictions of course! Yeah, I know, that life is long gone.
But a flight attendant can still dream, can’t she? If that doesn’t work, she can always go to a Broadway show, because on Broadway, this summer, that beautiful, yet unattainable dream still lives, regardless of high fuel prices.
Boeing Boeing is a play about an American living in Paris who is juggling three women, all of whom are his fiancée. How can one man juggle three women, you ask? Easy. You make sure each woman is a stewardess from a different airline. Then you consult a timetable as if it were a bible, marking each woman’s scheduled layover. But as most of you already know, schedules can change and flights get delayed, resulting in turbulent chaos.
I hear the play is hysterical. I’m dying to see it. Maybe you should too. So next time you find yourself fighting for the armrest, cramped in a middle seat, sitting in the last row of coach, as the cranky, sleep deprived, and hungry, flight attendant stops the beverage cart at your row, waves a napkin and barks, “Drink!” Do yourself a favor and go see this play. For me. And you, too, can relive the good ole stewardess days. I know I’d like to.