I Just Got Home From Dublin...

Flight Crew Layover Hangover Ratings Guide:

One-Star Hangover: No pain. No real feeling of illness. Your sleep last night was a mere disco nap which is giving you a whole lot of misplaced energy. Be glad that you are able to function relatively well. However, you are still parched. You get to the plane and you can drink 10 sodas and still feel this way. Even vegetarians are craving a steak bomb and a side of gravy fries from any truck stop USA.

Two-Star Hangover: No pain. Something is definitely amiss. You may look okay but you have the attention span and mental capacity of a duty desk supervisor. The coffee you chug to try and remain focused is only exacerbating your rumbling gut, which is craving a rootie tootie fresh and fruity pancake breakfast from IHOP which is no where in sight on the bus ride to the airport. Last night has wreaked havoc on your bowels and even though you have a nice demeanor about the flight, you are wasting the company's valuable money because all you really can handle is reading on the jumpseat.

Thee-Star Hangover: Slight headache. Stomach feels crappy. You are definitely a space shot and so not productive. You have the attention span of a gnat. Anytime a female walks by you gag because her perfume reminds you of the random gin shots you did with your alcoholic crew members after the bouncer 86'd you at 3:45 a.m. Life would be better right now if you were in your crash pad bed with a dozen donuts and a meatball sub watching the E! fashion awards. You've had 4 cups of coffee, a gallon of water, 3 cans of oolong teas and a liter of Diet Coke - yet you haven't peed once.

Four-Star Hangover: Life sucks. Your head is throbbing and you can't speak too quickly or else you might puke. Your flight manager has already lambasted you for being late and has given you a lecture for reeking of booze. You uniform is nice, but that can't hide the fact that you missed an oh-so crucial spot shaving, (girls, it looks like you put your make-up on while riding the crew bus) your teeth have sweaters, your eyes look like one big vein and your hair style makes you look like a reject from the class picture of training class. You would shoot your mother for one or all of the following:
1. The announcement to prepare for landing.
2. The entire appetizer list from TGI Fridays
3. A time machine so you could go back and NOT have gone out the night before with the crew.

Five-Star Hangover (aka Dante's 4th Circle of Hell): You have a second heartbeat in your head, exacerbated by 6 bouts of the dry heaves, which is actually annoying the flight attendant who sits next to you on the jumpseat. Vodka vapor is seeping out of every pour and making you dizzy. You still have toothpaste crust in the corners of your mouth from brushing your teeth. Your body has lost the ability to generate saliva, so your tongue is suffocating you. You'd cry but that would take the last of the moisture left in your body. Death seems pretty good right now. Your flight manager doesn't even get mad at you and your co-workers think that your dog just died because you look so pathetic. You should have called in sick because, let's face it, all you can manage to do is bitch about your state - which is a mystery to you because you definitely don't remember who you were with, where you were, what you drank and why there is a stranger still sleeping in your bed, unaccompanied, at your hotel. The only thing you can do is pass out. It's when you wake up a few hours later, after crew rest, with a lesser star hangover that you eat 20 bags of peanuts, 3 first class meals and six 5-hour old coach cabin meals.

Bitch, I don't know your life!

Lately, I have encountered many a flight attendant nay-sayer. Why did you choose such a career? Wouldn't you rather do something else? How can you live on such poverty wages?

First of all, this isn't a career. Its a job that comes with the most fantastic lifestyle. The only other people I know with a similar work schedule are famous people: athletes, actors, and rock stars. I think nurses and teachers have the second best schedules with three days a week/summers off respectively. Any one else who has a real job only has weekends off and normal people have to save their pennies to be able to afford going to Europe once let alone six times a month. And if you believe that life is about the money, then I'm not so sure I even want to be talking to you. Money isn't nearly as important as true happiness.

On the flip side, to all of you out there who are considering leaving your lives and homes to come join the fantastical adventures of pouring cokes, my advice is to have a back up plan. I have a degree from Rutgers, meaning if things don't go well in the industry (which they aren't as I'm sure you are all aware) I have marketable skills other than "coke pourer". When I'm at work and the rumor mill is running rampant with stories of furloughs and cutting back flights I don't worry about job security because I choose to do this. And for all you "youngins" out there, I encourage you to be well learned before coming to pour cokes. At 18, 19 years old only the regional airlines are available to you; at 21, majors are fair game. Two different types of flying with different corporate cultures; it is important to do your market research and choose an airline that fits you. But hey, its whatever cause... Bitch! I don't know your life!

(Go see Baby Mama - you'll find that more humorous)

Greece

You should go there, and avoid all major cities. Islands and crazy coastal towns and villages only. The Acropolis is only cool if you love all things ancient. Islands are cool if you love all things chill and beach. Do not drink the local beer or wine; this is not Germany or France. And even though the wild dogs don't really attack, that doesn't mean you should pet them.

More to come... or just call me.

Vacation All I Ever Wanted

Now that I've been working non-stop, I am in desperate need of a vacation. So I'm going to Greece for the week. I'm anticipating some serious beach time and I have no idea where we're going or what we're doing. I'll let you know how it turns out when I get back!

I Party In Europe

Last night, my roommate and I went to Atlantic City to party it up. The road trip was fun - two hours of girl talk down the turnpike. I gave her a brief lesson on the scandalous events that go on at the rest stops; she was appauled as things like that don't go down on the 5. We were dressed to the nines, which on a Wednesday isn't really necessary. Our first stop was Borgata, and it was not exactly hopping up in there. The bar scene was okay, I definitely lost at least $30 in the slots. Everyone kept talking about The Pool over at Harrahs, so at 0130 hours we decided that it would be a good idea to head over. We were overdressed, but the best dressed people in there. As the name would indicate, its supposed to be a huge pool party/rent a $500 cabana/ kicking it Vegas style good time. I was happy that it didn't reak of chlorine, but not everyone should be running around wet and in swim wear. Man boobs are not cute.

Out on the dance floor, I was not impressed with the amount of groping or guys trying to shove their tongues in my mouth. It made me miss Europe immencely. Even though on a daily basis, Europeans are not a fan of personal space, they're all about it on the dance floor. Dancing in a Euro club is like dancing around in front of the mirror in your bedroom. No one is trying to be all up in your grill, and I enjoy the freedom. I felt like I needed my gay husband to deflect and deter the macho straight males who were just looking for someone to take home for the night. Its unfortunate that so many girls are like that, ruining the good girls' good time.

I learned:
1. that it is a bad idea to drink on an empty stomach, unless throwing up is your goal
2. rest stop bathrooms are cleaner than those on the plane
3. it is a bad idea to stop at said rest stop any later than 2200, unless you're going to Molly Pitcher on the NJ TPK
4. Vegas > AC (duh, right? maybe the whole during the week/before summer thing was the issue at hand)
5. I party in Europe.

Rolling Rolling Rolling...

I got rolled, sent to Glasgow and then didn't even leave the room. It was fantastic.

It reminded me of my college roommate senior year who loved to get sick. She would hope and pray to get sick, then love loafing around in bed for how ever many days it took her to get better. It was like that for a day, only I got paid. Holler.

And The Shaft

Yesterday I sat alert with my friend Caryn. About 2/3 of the way through, our mutual friend Matthew showed up because he was checking in for the late Dublin. We played some Uno and then the phone rang. It was for Caryn and she was going to Dublin with Matthew. Bitches. I finished alert, nothing exciting happened.

This morning, I showed my new crash pad mates how to switch around their schedules to get all the days off they wanted. In the process, I found out I was sitting airport alert again tonight. How special. I have no idea what even leaves this late. I still want tomorrow off though, and now of course because I don't want to get rolled, I will.

Just another day living the dream.