Thursday, October 23, 2003

Broken Ankles and Lonely Starbucks.

Victoria BC to Toronto. Nonstop Airbus 321 Jetliner service. Right…

Who knew that Victoria had such good looking men. My stars the gym was full of hotties. Little shopping, good workout, nice tanning session and this fly boy was ready to hit the sack. I had a an early morning flight back home. Good thing I got a good nights sleep otherwise I might have been bitchy to the passengers.

1 ½ hours of turbulence out of Victoria. I was shaken around so much you’d think that I was a cosmo at Wett bar. I’m more expensive though. The flight left at 7 am and we served breakfast at 9…two hours after takeoff. Hey – shit happens. I threw out a couple omelets, spilt a few coffees on some nasty people and then went and sat in business class and poured my heart out on a barf bag. Nothing else to write on except my hand and I figured that the passengers did not really want to read my issues about my relationship as I handed them a coke.

Honestly, I’m a super nice flight attendant. I really do go out of my way to make sure people are happy. Joke around, smile. Today, however, two passengers really pushed my fuck off button so I had to bitch slap them in front of the whole aircraft. 16B and 16C were tag-teaming on who could piss the crew off first. Looks like they won with me. 16C whining for an upgrade. “Sure sir, not a problem. Do you have a credit card handy? I can radio down to reservations and I let you know the difference.” Why do people ask? Not happy about hostility class, he decides to leave his bag in the aisle. After I tripped over it and almost fell flat on my face in the aisle, I politely asked him to put it away so that the aisle is clear from obstruction.. He rolls his eyes. I guess I was not clear enough in my instructions because now he decided to keep his legs crossed with his foot in the aisle. After having my thigh rammed by his foot twice, I asked him to keep the aisle clear and to not have his foot blatantly in the aisle as someone will get hurt. 2 minutes later he crosses his legs again, placing his foot way out in the aisle. This time, however, I was going up the aisle with a cart so I had the upper hand.

With an expression of shock and a slight smile, I respond “Oh, I’m sorry sir, did you get hurt? HOW UNFORTUNATE. By the way, your foot is still in the aisle.” The 4 rows in front and behind laugh.

As I come by to pick up his breakfast tray he asks for my name. He wants to write a letter about the cart incident. I tell him my name. Robert Milton…. And ask him for a business card so that I can write his boss and let him know about his conduct aboard my flight. Cunty

16 B was having a seat back reclining war with the passenger in front that had to diffuse later on. What is it with people once they are in the air?

I bought a card in Victoria yesterday on the way to the gym. It’s blank inside so that I could give it to my lover and have him read how I feel in my own words. So I wrote my thoughts out on a barf bag. Analyzed my relationship and put into words how I’m feeling about it all. I doubt we will talk tonight because I’m off to LA tomorrow morning. I doubt that I will give him the card tonight either. The timing is not right. Sunday when I’m home all day, besides…I’m horny as hell and my jet needs to be catered, cleaned and refueled in a very short turn around time.

I have numerous pictures to post and I’ll do so from LA if I don’t rent a car and go to the beach or something… maybe into west Hollywood for happy hour cocktails…maybe some shopping seeing as our dollar is so high….maybe down to the ocean for starbucks on the beach alone…..guess I might have to get used to this alone stuff…

Wednesday, October 22, 2003

Unfortunate Flying Gold Diggers

I’m sitting I my hotel room right now. Here is how my morning and my flight last night have unfolded….

Normally, when preparing for my shower in a hotel room, I stand outside the tub and find the appropriate water temperature with the faucet on and then pull the little tab thingie to start the water flow to the shower head. Today, I was in the tub doing this for some unknown reason. Apparently the last guest liked to feel like they are ground patrol in Baghdad because the shower was in its water bullet setting. Christ, the water pressure was so strong I think it blew out all the product in my hair in one fell swoop.

I made my way downstairs to enjoy the breakfast buffet only find out I was too late. Instead I had an omelet made with egg white filled with low fat cheese, Canadian back bacon and peppers. Staying in the zone you know… I sat at a table overlooking the Victoria harbour with a beautiful view of the BC parliament buildings. Stunning. I'm going to take soem pictures and post them later I think.

Reading the Globe, I saw that my boss Mr. Milton is thought to be spearheading an international fight against the Pearson airport fees. Ok, sure, he can spread his seeds of love around the world (me for instance) however I don’t think that he has THAT much clout. I broke out into hysterics when I read about our PM’s comment on the 1995 referendum and the use of solders to protect federal buildings in Quebec. “the soldiers thing is bullshit” he said. Politics..I could care less about it but those words coming from the figurehead of our country. All I can say is fantastic. He’s human. He swears.

The fight to Victoria last night was not disappointing.

My saying for the evening was “that’s unfortunate”

To the passenger bitching about having the middle seat – that’s unfortunate

To the passenger bitching about their full flight from Frankfurt and wanted an upgrade to business because she had to sit beside some immigrant nervous about their new life in Canada and was puking the whole way..missing the bag most of the time – that’s unfortunate

To the passenger complaining that they were not sitting together – that’s unfortunate

To the passengers whining about the dead worm in their rice - that's unfortunate

To the ex-Canadian FA who showed me her scar from our Charlie’s Angel’s training (in-flight self defense / terrorist attack) brought on by an overzealous attacker impersonation – that’s unfortunate - now give me back my flying and get to the bottom of the senority list - I want my international flying back cuz this domestic crap is making me sick

I’m doing my Charlie’s Angels training next Thursday. Now I’ll learn how to say BACK OFF..GET YOUR OWN SANDWICH and learn how to take them down in the aisle, begging for forgiveness for having the nerve to ask for the full can of coke.

During boarding this 6’, thin built, tanned blond haired blue eyed hunk of burning luv gets on and sits in the aisle seat 1 row in front of my jumpseat. I’ll call him the gold digger (GD)

During the take off roll, thinking that this may be a promising flight, I assumed my take off position. Not the one dictated by the Ministry of Transportation, but one that had a better view of GD. I had to lean forward, pretending to look out the window. Was I ever sorry for straining my back because all I got was a view of the gold nugget he had just pulled out of his nose. He was rolling it in his fingers and then wiped it on the seat. Fucking SICK. How come the Flight Attendants don’t have a barf bag at our seats? I need one at this point. Oh the glamour of it all.

I’m now going to work a bit, then go to the gym here in Victora for a work out, then off to Starbucks to think about my relationship. I really need to get my head around what I want. Do I want to be single or do I want to keep kicking the cat back at home with my partner. All I can say is that I’m sick of compromise. I feel that my entire relationship has been about compromising how I act & feel so that I will fit into this mould of the perfect spacewaitress husband. I need a parachute.

Tuesday, October 21, 2003

Late Night Fight and a Case of the Ex

We got in a huge fight last night. The therapist gave us some homework to improve our communication between one another. My “job” was to initiate a conversation about “us” and only “us”. I choose last night. I was going away tonight to Victoria BC for 2 nights and then I was only going to be home on Thursday night as Friday I leave for LA for one night. I’m not home much this week and I figured that we would have a great chat and some great love.

First of all, you have to get me straight…I’m all fun and games like my post about the weekend, however I do have a serious side and I would never have actually left the bar with anyone that night. I won’t go there… I don’t want to go there. Sure I have VERY strong cravings and sometimes want to take the express bus there, but I don’t’. I fess up to people that I flirting with that it is just that, nothing more. I can appreciate a looker and I want a looker to appreciate me.

I thanked him for not razzing me about coming home “past curfew” on Friday night. The curfew was set about a year ago I came home really late – 5 am – and he was up worried sick about me…was I ok?…did I leave him for someone else?….what would I be doing as such an ungodly hour? blah blah. I reluctantly agreed to be home at 3 am the latest from that point forward. I’ve been out on binge nights with friends maybe 5 times in 6 months. Really, I fly on weekends normally and do the office job Monday to Friday as much as possible. There is no time for friends or social interaction and this is the root of all my issues with our relationship….I digressed….

Well, he did not like my comment about the curfew as this was the first time that I said it in front of him. My friends razz me about it all the time and I try to laugh it off. To make a long story short, things were thrown about the condo in anger, not by me but by my man. I stood there and shook my head at him. Just like my fater. I CAN'T STAND MY FATHER. I don’t understand violence and anger and he was clearly angry at me. He said if he had it his way, I would be home at 12:30 the latest. At that comment I had to laugh because going out with friends to a bar would be pointless. I said that all I asked is that before I go out, that I can evaluate how the night may unfold and I would let him know that I may be in late. This is who I’m with, I’ll have my cell phone etc etc…

Clearly, this was not good enough for him.

I try to tell him that I’m not some country bumpkin that does not have any city smarts. HELLO!!!!! I travel internationally on my own on a weekly basis. How come he does not worry about me in London, Madrid, Paris, Rome, Munich, Frankfurt, LA, Vancouver…….. wandering the streets at 3 am? I told him that he was acting like one of my parents. I could understand his concern if we were never together and that I always ditched him for my friends but once a month out with friends…give me a break.

Am I asking too much? I need a reality check here so help me out. I can explain more via e-mail it’s just that I gotta get some work done in the office before my flight tonight.

Track me tonight at (Air Canada Flt #1191 Oct 21 and Flt#1190 on Oct 23)

Now…off to lunch with Daniel & Michael to converse about my personal hellllllllllllllll.

BTW – my ex bf’s porn name is Matthew Anders …thanks to some research to our latest blogger Secret Songs of Silence. Give him a visit and a big shout out. It takes courage for some of us and I think he has a lot of it. Thanks for the pix…now I got a case of the ex.

Monday, October 20, 2003

Victor, Victoria Here I Cum...

I've just been drafted to fly to Victoria, BC for a 30 Hour layover...leave tomorrow evening and I'm there for the entire day Wednesday, fly home on Thursday. Then on firday I leave for an LA layover. I don't mind going to Victoria because it is so beautiful there...and we stay in a hotel with a spa. Fantastic!!!!

Any readers from this area?

It's All About Me

Have you ever had a night where it was all about you? Friday night started out at a restaurant on queen west when I met bastersnatch for après ashtung bongo drum yoga class cocktails. He ate. I drank Wolf Blass Cab-Sav. We chatted about TorontoBoy and the newfie incident. It was obvious that I was going to have to deal with the sister friction between them that night. We left the restaurant after a 2 hour dinner. His belly full of pizza and salad; my tongue, wine soaked. There was a huge line at Grapefruit so you know we wrangled our way to the front. The crowd was excellent, the music trashy – Cindy Lauper versus Madonna. It was fantastic. After a number of rye & cokes, I was trashy. I could hardly stand-up. Apparently I was a hot commodity in the bar that night as I was picked up non-stop. Here is what I remember:

Edmonton Boy: 5’9” – 23 years old. Brown hair, tight thin build, blue eyes, funky messy hair and a pout to die for. He had such an innocent face with dazzling eyes. I noticed him when I was dancing and he obviously noticed me. I went to the bar to get a drink and he magically appeared beside me. The service is slow at this place, which worked in my favour. I comment on his watch, he commented on mine. I told him it was my birthday (November 1st) and it was a gift. We chatted a bit more and then I moved on my way after scarfing back another rye & coke. His eyes were on me the entire evening. I ended the evening by going up to him and putting my hands on his waist. Leaning in to his ear, my cheek against his, I whispered to him that he was incredibly sexy. I told him in explicit detail what I would do to him if it were not for my relationship. I think he appreciated my honesty. His erection was obvious.

Porn Star - 6’ tall, 29 and had the most beautiful dimples which just emphasized his stunning smile. He had short brown hair and a body that was smooth like buttah.
TorontoBoi was with his English as a second language (ESL) friend who brought this Beautiful man in tow. He was wearing a cut off shirt with “Woodridge” written across his very defined chest. In my usual drunken dyslexic fashion, I read it as Woodbridge and commented on the fact that I have a thing for boys from there. He looked at me rather confused and then I realized my faux pas. Oh well, it worked out in my favour because, as I found out after the evening was done, that this man was seriously attracted to me. I thought I was bad when it comes to conversations with people I’m attracted to but this boy beat me hands down. He was so quite when we were chatting so I just wrote him off and moved on. Later I find out from EST that he was SERIOUSLY attracted to me and because of that he became very shy. I like shy. The shy ones are the dirtiest. I’ve been given his phone number.

No. 65 – 5’10” (a bit taller then me) and was obviously a gym bunny. Arms, chest, butt, legs. The whole package. This man was my type. He came over to introduce himself to me as I was dancing with TornotBoi.
No.65: “Hey; How are you?”
Sissy: “Better if I was in you.”
No. 65: “Did you just say what I think you said?”
Sissy: “Absolutely.”
No.65: “I…um..I really….I’m speechless..I really don’t know how to reply to that”
Sissy: “You could start by telling me if I you are offended or intrigued”
No 65: “Defiantly intrigued…”
Sissy: “excellent. I’m working on a heavy time schedule right now so lets go…”
At this point TorontoBoi jumped in and got me out of a pretty sketchy situation. Thank gawd because I know I would have ended up in the bathroom with me on his back like a cat in heat. I got his number so I may call to go play in the litter box…when the old cat is out.

While sitting at the bar later on in the evening with Mr. Edmonton, the child molester sat beside me and actually stuck his finger between my lower back and my low rise Energie jeans. Pulling back my waistband to look down the crack of my round bubble but. I can only assume that he was checking if I was wearing any underwear. (not) I turn around and he says “now those are low riding jeans”. I replied “yea – ok dude you had your peep show so either pay up or leave me alone.” He left.

While Dancing with TorontoBoi this man of many hands decided to come up behind me and place his arms under min and grab my chest. Startled, I turn around and almost threw up on my Transit shoes at the vision of the clown from poltergeist.

Leaving the club Mr. Edmonton was waiting outside and chatting with me. A man approaches and asks me if I’m from Dundas (Ontario, it’s a town – not Dundas & what). After a little high school reunion, TorontoBoi, ESL, Future ex-Husband #2 and I head off to have a falafel. On our way I get stopped by some rather handsome men and asked if I’m going to this after hours club. I reply “no, I wish!! I have to be home by 3 or my partner is going to KILL me” It is at this point that I’m told it is actually 4:15 am. I ask them where it is and if they are going. I’m told that if I’m not going then they are not going because it would not be worth it. Sometimes I REALLY wish I was single.

I crawled in to bed at 5:30 am. I woke up at 10:00 am to my partner bitching about how late I was. All I wanted was my stomach pumped.
It was at this point that I remembered that I had to go to partner yoga Saturday evening with bastersnatch. Visions of the pea spitting possessed girl from the exorcist came to mind.