Summer Travelers...

           Oh summer…time for pools, time for BBQs, time for the crazies who never travel to venture out of their shells and take to the skies.  Why me?  That’s what I ask myself each and every single time that I board a flight in the summer.  It’s as is if I shunned the powers that be at one point in time and my punishment is an outpouring of crazy assed people boarding my flight.  Yes, my fellow flight attendants: I’m sorry, but this is definitely my fault.  I don’t know what I did exactly, but I must have done it with gusto, because the floodgates of crazy land have been opened and here they come.

            I may be a bit premature in writing this entry—after all, summer doesn’t officially start for another three weeks.  However, I’ve already taken note of many summer travelers who apparently felt like getting a head start on the summer travel season. 

            Let’s start with apparel.  Who would have thought that it would ever be culturally appropriate to wear a halter-top, booty baring cutoffs, and plastic flip-flops in public? Well, not only are they being worn in public; but they are also sauntering through airports and onto my plane.  I realize that modern day security practically demands that one strip down to their skivvies, and that perhaps wearing less clothing to start out with seems like a practical undertaking.  Well, it’s not.  Nor will it ever be.  Sorry.  Somebody may want to see your low hanging cheeks (and I’m not talking about your face), but I certainly do not.  Without fail, these girls (and guys…yep, it happens) will saunter on the plane, throw their overflowing bags in the overhead bin, and then ask for a blanket because they are ‘freezing’.  ‘Well, hello!  That’s what happens when you walk around naked sweetheart!’

           

            I really have seen an endless array of summer fashion faux pas—guys traveling in bathing suits, girls with see-through cover ups over their bikinis, tube tops, sandals with socks (do they think they are more dressed up that way?), and a jilting array of pastel colors that makes me want to crawl into a hole and die.  So, what do I do?  I do what every gay man does.  I judge—internally, of course. Outwardly, I’m all smiles and such, but inside…girl, I’m judging you like you’s the newest Kardashian.

            It’s not just that people come on the plane wearing inappropriate stuff; they get all crazy as well.  Maybe it’s the lack of oxygen.  Many a time during the summer months, I have had someone get on the plane and wander around in a daze like they are in a museum of some sort—amazed with the scenery and confused that they actually have to sit down and buckle up.  I’m sure the invisible thought balloons for these individuals would be something like: ‘what is this strange place and how did I get here?’  I can imagine their shock when the strange beast they boarded jumps off the ground and flies through the sky. Oooh. Ahhh.  Trippy.

            People in the summer months also like to drink—a lot.  As a flight attendant, I like to judge your alcohol consumption on this one little rule…shall we give you less to make you act normal, or shall we give you more to help you sleep and stop acting, in what we perceive, is normal for you?  I’m always amazed that people don’t seem to understand that the airplane is a flying vessel—just one step above a bus—and not a full service bar and restaurant.  No we actually don’t serve fifty flavors of vodka nor can we mix up frozen daiquiris—our galleys are not nearly that advanced.  And, if you are lucky enough to get a meal, it was cooked in an industrial oven after being made en masse in a remote kitchen several hours before the flight.  Simply put, we don’t do substitutions.  Sorry, it’s just really not possible for us to whip up something else in our cubbyhole galley.  One guy actually asked me if we could stop to pick something up.  I’m not kidding—I think maybe he thought we would swing by a KFC or Burger King en route.  Although it’s crazy, I can’t help imagining what that would look like—a 747 pulling up at the drive thru and requesting 250 drumsticks and a side of beans.  

            Oh, and the questions.  Where do these people come up with such off the wall questions?  I guess they don’t understand the basic principles of physics or realize just how stupid they make themselves out to be by opening their mouths.  Some of my favorites include (but are definitely not limited to): ‘What keeps this plane in the air…does gravity not exist up here?’ ‘Is it possible to see the Mason-Dixon line from here?’ ‘Oh look, is that the Atlantic Ocean?’ (when landing in Chicago after flying over Lake Michigan) ‘Why is it so cold outside the plane…I mean, we are closer to the sun right?’ No joke—these are actual questions.  I have to tell you that it’s incredibly difficult to keep a straight face when dealing with such extreme stupidity.  Again, some extreme internal judgment going on here. 

            Such is the way of summer flying—the newbies (and not so newbies who still haven’t gotten it yet) decide to venture out into the great ‘unknown’.  Daring for sure for someone who has been seemingly housebound or isolated to small town living.  Super annoying as well.  But such is the way of summer flying and even though we have to drudge through it each and every year, gosh darn it, at least it’s entertaining!