Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Stockholm Story

Last Sunday, I was exhausted. I took a nap and about 10 minutes in scheduling calls and just like that I'm off to Stockholm. I had enough time to get dressed, in the car and go sans make up. Sans make up!

I was less than pleased.

When I got on the plane, one of the line holders switched positions with me so I could hide in the back. The back galley girl (40+) and I got along famously; we just clicked and it was non stop shits and giggles. As we were boarding, we were scoping out the passengers and there was this one guy, who we judged to be Swedish, that was carrying a backpack with his motorcycle helmet attached. Tall, 6'2 or so, blond hair high and tight, big blue eyes, too tan with sunburn on his nose, arms covered in tattoos - USMC - and oozing with sexiness. But not in that demure because I am kind of way but obnoxious I know you think I'm hot sleazy gross way. We commented (fries with that shake! woo hoo!) and thought nothing of it. Potential IFB all the way.

We close the door and begin to taxi, do the safety dance (flight attendants demo positions please). I'm standing at the over wing exits looking down the cabin and Sexy Pants McGee has his leg in the aisle with his hand on his knee, middle finger pointed down tapping. WHAT? I'm doing my best to maintain a dead pan face showing no emotion so he knows he can't get to me and I pretend not to notice. He stops. "Should oxygen be needed..." BAM! His finger is back tapping at his knee. I'm looking everywhere around the cabin except at him. As soon as we're done and do the cabin compliance check, I make my way to my jumpseat, which I share with the purser and fill her in on what's going on. His new name? IFSB - In Flight Scuz Bucket.

We do the service, I'm on first break. Directly in front of the crew rest seats is a family of four with a screamer. This child is not having a happy time and feels compelled to share with the rest of the cabin. Awesome. About half way through my break I hear this conversation start and can make out a fair amount of the words even though I'm wearing ear plugs. I get the wake up tap on my shoulder only to emerge into fluorescent light to find IFSB and his new found BFF chatting it up in the galley. Asshole. He's been drinking all flight now and does not have an inside voice. So the two of them stay back there and proceed to talk all the way till third break begins. THEN I'm left alone with him, his lies, and absurd stories of his daughters, the Marine Corp, DOS in Iraq/Afghanistan (Dept of State), adjusting to cushy soft life back in the States... IFSB was by far the most craziest person I've ever talked to on the plane. EVER. None of his stories matched up, he pretended to know who Matt Pryor is (lead singer of The Get Up Kids) and claimed to be headed to Bangkok to see Tokyo Police Club (I had to look that one up - they're currently on tour States side).

He also had a potty mouth.

One of the other stews is Mormon, and does not tolerate the s or f word. She jokingly bet him that he couldn't clean up his mouth. At first he was good, but kept getting all liquored up and soon lost his verbal control and out came the f bomb. His terms of the bet? $100. And he paid up. She wouldn't accept his money so while she was setting up the cart in the mid he hid it in her bag; which she found before we landed. By then he was so passed out she was able to slip in back into his pocket. Who does that? Pay some stranger $100 because you can't lock it up? I would have kept the money. And then sent it to the Sisters of Christian Charity or Habitat for Humanity because I would begin to feel too guilty to enjoy spending on myself. Regardless. IFSB strikes again.

So we get to the hotel and sign up for our exercise classes at the amazing gym downstairs: African dance and core express which start at 5. I woke up promptly at 4. I'm sad I missed African dance but I'm still feeling the effects of core express. I went back up to my room after 30 minutes on the treadmill, ordered room service and fell back asleep at 9:30, up at 1:30, back to bed at 2, wake up at 5:30, breakfast at 6:30, on the plane and back in Newark by 11:40, home before 2.

I took a four hour nap, slept 10 hours last night and have yet to leave the house today. I'd like to take a short power nap soon and I know I'll get another 8 if not more tonight. I've been flying two trips/one day off basically since I got home from Berlin over a month ago. Today is my first day off of five and I'm in need of the R&R. Tomorrow I'm going down the shore to sit in the sun and work on this kicking sun kissed tan I'm rocking.

And while I sort of wish I was in Munich instead, drinking delicious beers, I know that everything happens for a reason and being home is most certainly NOT overrated.

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