….That’s when I did what any single girl in her twenties would do: Froze. I just stood there in the aisle wearing navy blue polyester staring him down like an idiot. Then I did what my mother would: Checked for a ring. Nope: No wedding band, not even a tan line. Yet he was so far out of my league it wasn’t even funny. I know my man equivalent and he wasn’t it.
Shaking myself out of it, I smiled a first class smile. I tried to think of something to say, something witty but with an edge, something that could lead to an interesting conversation, like one about dating.
“Cokah Light?” I said.
He nodded. My cue to shove the plastic scoop into the drawer of ice. For like two seconds I was tempted to tell him about the ex New York mayor I had on board the other night. I served him eight diet cokes on a two hour flight from New York to Chicago. Bet you didn’t know a can of original Coke will sink in water, while a can of Diet Coke will float on the surface. Which means all those frequent fliers who are addicted to the stuff won’t need a life preserver if they ever have to ditch in the ocean. While I was imagining wrapping my arms around Cokah-Light in an unplanned emergency, I glanced across the cart and noticed Sean’s dropped jaw and wide eyes screamed, “Gurrrrrl! Oh…My…God.”
Oh my God was right: My best friend was drooling all over his pinstriped apron. I shot him a look. He pursed his lips and struck a pose. Even though I had no shot – none – zero – I felt defensive. What the heck was he doing, standing there licking his lips like that? He was practically humping the cart.
“Do you have any Diet Coke on your side?” I asked.
“Of course, Doll, anything for him,” Sean purred, handing me a silver can. Then he leaned over the Styrofoam cups and whispered, “Make sure to give him a free snack.”
Which is what I did. I placed a can of soda, a package of nuts, a bag of pretzels, a container of hummus and a box of popcorn on his tray table, stacking it all up real nice and neat. Then I did what any single girl who is also a flight attendant would do, I moved on to the next passenger.
Maintain Service, that’s the name of the game in airline world. Otherwise things can get out of control, and that’s the last thing you want when you’re stuck in a flying tube at 35,000 feet surrounded by one hundred and fifty passengers….
Yeah, that's me, the one standing in the aisle wearing flammable polyester...