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Passenger Complaints

It started out simply enough....

"To the lady on the plane in my row giving me a dirty look for NOT standing in the packed aisle like the rest of the nitwits:

"You think I care. How sweet."

Dave, that was ENTIRELY Uncalled for and RUDE. 

I was a passenger. I was going home. There were thirty people crammed into the aisle waiting to get out simply because the plane stopped moving. And they stood there for 15+ minutes, IMPATIENTLY waiting, leaning, shoving, sighing and sticking their back sides in the faces of anyone NOT standing. 

I don't like getting elbowed in the stomach and groped in the chest, so I don't stand up when everyone else does. You have a problem with me not wanting to get groped and someone having the excuse of "close quarters" to fall back on?! I'm so sorry. #sarcasm

You're just DAMN LUCKY i didn't say what I was really thinking.  The reason I didn't is because I'm a class above swearing for reaction. You, however, appear not to be. 

You may edit and remove the f-bomb, or you can have me remove it (and you) permanently. 

Be a human being, not a jerk. Jumping to conclusions gets you NOWHERE.

If my calling a rude woman a nitwit gets you up in arms, I'd hate to see your reaction to what I'm about to say to myself.

You say "Yeah, we're f#%* nitwits, that have to deal with being treated like nitwits in order to travel for out jobs and make a living..."

First, comma placement!!

Second, just what in the world do you think we are doing up there playing man-servant to the passengers; volunteer work? Yoga classes? We're people, even if you prefer to think of us as objects, servants or sub-human.

I don't care for nitwits? 
You're right. I don't. But I care about the passengers on a plane who act as civilized human beings, especially to me, as I often work 12 hour days with NO lunch breaks, no dinner breaks, no smoke breaks, no bathroom breaks, no "my-feet-are-killing-me" breaks... Yet I do everything, and I mean EVERYTHING in my power to make it as easy as possible on the passengers. I've made life-long friends of one 6'10" passenger simply because  I found him a seat with more leg room. The major difference here? He never once complained about his seat. He smiled at his flight attendant. He said "hello" when I greeted him. He was sweet, a real human being. 

You think it's bad that airline food is over priced?
Try making 12k a year and having that be your only food option on those 12 hour days for six days in a row. Eventually you learn a valuable lesson: PACK YOUR OWN. Surely you know more than two hours in advance if you're going to be on an airplane. Well, that's a the notice I get for FOUR DAY trips, and yet I take the time to pack my own food or else I starve. If you do t want airplane food, them do something about it. If you don't want water, order a coke. If coke costs you money, stop flying Sprint!!! LMAO!!

Airlines (the real ones) still give you food even when the machine is broken, Dude. Stop trying to blast baloney at someone who works in the industry.  Remember, I work for FIVE MAJOR AIRLINES, and none of the five do that. Perhaps you need to reconsider your options for travel. In fact, try DRIVING where you need to go if you don't like the service. 

How long of a flight we talking here? If it's an hour flight, go to the bathroom before you get on the plane, please. It's hard enough doing a full service on an hour flight without having to play seat-roulette with passengers who prefer a nasty airplane lav to the nice, spacious bathrooms back in the airport. By the way, some days that's my only option for a bathroom until I get to a hotel at night. So, put the seat down and remember to flush please. 

If you have issues with the service on your flights, fly a different carrier. You call it torture to sit in your chair? Trade me a day sometime. I'll show you what it's like to sit in a jump seat. 

I'll give it a standard 12 hour work day to comply with my request to edit for language, since I know that while I'm working a 12 hour day, I have no access to my electronic devices at all. 

Oh, wait. He's not a flight attendant. So a standard 8 hour work day with intermittent access to mobile devices is probably far closer to reality. 

6pm tonight is the deadline. It gets edited for the f-bomb or it gets removed and the poster gets deleted along with it.

I'm Just Angry.


I woke up confused from my dream and quickly realized I was (and should be) angry. 

In every decision made in my dream, I was in the drivers seat, but someone else was controlling the truck. 

Once, quite literally, I was in front of the wheel, unable to steer. 

Once I was dressed in a white prom dress and married to someone I didn't know. 

Once I slept on the street, homeless simply because someone refused to talk to me, saying they did it to "get a reaction" from me. 

The reason I'm so angry now that I'm awake? 

Because EACH of these things happened in my past. They weren't as confusing as the dreams were, but they weren't far off. 

For many years I had no control over my life. I had no backbone. I had no direction. Truthfully, I had no hope. 

Though I now have more direction than I did at 19 or 20 years old, I still find certain aspects are being dictated by others who should never be given that much power. They have this control because they help me to survive and not end up homeless. But those people shouldn't have that power. I'd honestly RATHER be homeless than give someone that much power or control over my life ever again!!

I fight for one reason and one reason only: my boys. 

If I lost my small and humble home, so would they. And so I bite my lower lip, pull back the tears, wipe away the blood and take a deep breath. 

I am at the mercy of others. And I'm just so angry.

Writers Sickness.

Why is it when a neighbor slams a door my heart jumps within my chest? 

Why do I feel fear at walking into someplace I've never been if I'm alone? 

Why do I hide for days on end, afraid to let anyone in?

I'm broken. I'm not as brave as I would like you to believe. I live in fear most days, but sometimes I have the courage to face my fears. Others, like today, I prefer to hide from those who have hurt me in the past or who might in the future.

These are the days I have "writers sickness" ... when I hide from the world and the only allies I have are the ones I create on paper. This is my prison; my torture. This is my never ending quest to search for humanity within myself. This is how I learn about the agony others have subjected me to. When I hide, it's because I feel weak, like I don't dare face the world for fear of it happening all over again; the beatings, the rape, the forced starvation. 

So I hide. I binge-eat whatever I can find and pray I haven't been grocery shopping recently. I write, searching for companionship. And I watch movies based on Stephen King books so that I might come to realize I'm not the only one in the world with serious problems in their head.