Please disembark

For fucks sake, get off that plane. I’ve seen, smelled and served you for the past 16 hours and you’re still on board. Please take that aisle and disappear forever.

My day didn’t start when you got on the plane. It started when I got pulled out last minute. While you were trying to fit all your excess baggage in that cabin bag, I got pulled out for the flight.


I thought I might get the day off because my standby duty was nearly over. Only 2 minutes to go. One hundred and twenty seconds. But no. Someone was suddenly “sick”. Can’t blame them, a 16h flight to Australia is indeed sickening.


I’ve been on my feet all day because I have a life too and stuff to do. I did manage a 15 minute power nap before the flight. Sleep more then.Believe me if I could threaten myself to sleep I would. But terrorism doesn’t work when you apply it to yourself.


I got at the airport ninety unpaid minutes before boarding even started and I still got forty five minutes of unpaid duty post landing. I’m not even talking about the hour drive to get to the airport and the other hour drive from the airport to finally get a bed. Twenty hours and fifteen minutes later and you’re still here!


Vamos!


Now you’re taking forever to leave that plane you’ve been complaining all night. It was either too cold, too hot, the food wasn’t good enough, the wine not to your taste, the aisle too narrow. Stop flying then. Or die. You’ll do the world a big favour.


I can barely stand on my feet and whoever said a smile uses only 14 muscles of your face clearly hasn’t been forced to smile for more than 16 hours. I’ve stretched my zygomaticus so much it feels like squats for the face. My cheeks are as firm as my butt.


Get your overweight cabin bag off the stowage compartment and leave the plane at once for fucks sake. Now is the perfect time to go to the loo. You had 16 hours to do so moron. Of course, you had to sit for 16 hours. That’s how you maximise the price you paid for that ticket. Go to the loo only when it’s time to disembark. That way you can take the amenities. Help yourself. You’ve paid for that haven’t you. Don’t forget the half toilet roll left. That half plus the other halves you got at home will finally make a full roll.


You finally leave the plane and I can finally do my final checks and hope the crew bus is already here. I’m about to leave. But who shows up again. Of course it’s you. Sixteen hours later and you forgot your passport in the seat pocket. You might have left your brain at the boarding gate. How silly of me, you were born without. My apologies.


The seat pocket. The safest place to keep the most important document of your travelling journey. That area where you put your gross feet in and chose to stow your trash. Perfect place. If I had found it I would have sold it on the black market. But with your horrible face I wouldn’t have sold it for much. Better take no risks.


You can’t even find it because you swapped seat during the flight. Great. Fucking great. You don’t even remember what was your original seat. And you expect I’ll know what you mean by it was “over there”. I can’t even spell out my name by the end of this flight. All the seats are “over there” and over here and everywhere. They’re all the same.


You finally found it between two dirty diapers stowed in the seat pocket “over there”. You can’t be mad at the mother who put it there. If you can stow your passport so can she stow dirty poop filled diapers too.


There’s no paper in the loo for you to take off the dirt off your passpoop. Sorry I meant poopport. Sorry I meant passport. Help yourself with the toilet roll in your bag. That’s what it is meant for.


I couldn’t be happier. I can finally get off the plane more than 16 hours later with a real smile. Each time my zygomaticus will ache from fake ass smiling, I will remember you pulling out your poop smeared passport from that diaper. And believe me that will be the truest smile you’ll see on my face.


I’m stretching those 14 muscles to the maximum of their capacity. I’m doing a full split of the lips. And it’s called a real smile.


Your dedicated cabin crew with a hint of hospitality and loads of sarcasm.

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