"I Love Peanut Butter Sandwiches" said Kyle and Dan

Recently, I was on a date and was forced to divulge a little known fact about myself: I don't like peanut butter. There's something about the smell that makes me yick, the consistency is not like a party in my mouth, and though most would consider the combination of peanut butter and chocolate to be divine, I'm just not one of them. He went on to describe his love for peanut butter, either chunky or smooth, the various ways to enjoy peanut butter, when it is most appropriate to consume peanut butter. He then said, as have almost all of my friends, that he must call into question our friendship. Therefore, my latest quest in life is to find someone else in this world that hates peanut butter too. Sans allergy! It doesn't count if it can kill you.

Scheduling Roulette

I had Sunday off; the weather was horrible. It wasn't really sunny, nor was it actually cloudy. Warm, yet breezy and just not a beach day which is exactly where I was in Ocean City. Around trip pick up time, we were messing around on the computer and Jo said log in and see what's in open time. There was a Belfast, I clicked and like magic it appeared on my line. We went out for Jersey Mex (eat that Texas!); that night we had a few beers and made an appearance out at the bar. Definitely made the beers more enjoyable - knowing what I was doing the next day.

Monday morning rolls around and the dirty surfer kids hit the waves at 5:30, and came to get me at 8:45 for breakfast. Usually on days off I'm rebellious with my phone and do things like turn it off or leave it at home, which I managed to do this particular morning. So over coffee at a classy Jersey diner, I checked my line and the trip was gone. Bumped. I immediately called scheduling, gave them Jo's number as mine for the next two hours, you know, just in case. We went bike riding and roller skating, and finally at one I decided I should be clean and pretty... just in case. I sat clean and pretty til 5 when dirty surfer boys showed up and demanded wave time. Even if I did surf, I couldn't go in the water... just in case. So I called to get released, which they did, but for a whole two hours. We came back from the beach, had some dinner, and hung out a bit, in bed by midnight. I heard the surfers go out at o'dark thirty, and then I get the scheduling wake up call at 8:35 to be in EWR at 11. Less than 2 1/2 hours to drive 110 miles, all for an airport alert. It took me 7 minutes to get dressed and in the car.

By the grace of the Lord, I made it on time and without a ticket.

I sat my four hours, went home, roller skated around the Twp park, now I'm doing laundry, and tomorrow I personal dropped... just in case. Another one of those days living the dream, as they say.

Every Place Around the World... We're Coming to America!

I was off on Thursday; I had an opportunity to pick up a trip to fly Friday but was unsuccessful. I sat as number one on the call out list for hours - nothing. I briefly considered putting myself request airport alert (blasphemous! I know) for Saturday because I was trying to go down the shore for Sunday. Saturday rolls around, and I was on page two of the list thinking that I was sitting pretty, number 5 on the personal drop list for Sunday and I was going to be good to go! WRONG. I got the call at 3 as my mom and I were leaving the mall to report to the airport at 1745 for DUB. I ran into the department store, got changed in the fitting room, dropped my mother off at my sister's place of employment and scurried off to EWR devising ways to get off of this trip.

I opted not to take the NJ TPK, as summer traffic is HORRIFYING, and took 295 - rt. 1 - TPK instead. I stopped in one of the Brunswicks along the way to get a Subway sandwich and an iced coffee from Dunks. I've been to this particular Dunks a number of times, usually its a man behind the counter. Today, it was a lady who's eyes lit up when she saw my uniform. She wanted to know where I worked; I told her my airline. "You cannot be married" she simply stated. It was in that moment I realized how I should stop bitching about scheduling, my pathetic dating life, my current living situation because, as I went on to explain to her, this is America. There's no age discrimination at my place of employment - at ANY place of employment. I can and I WILL GET MARRIED SOMEDAY. I'll still be a flight attendant too. One of my friends is out on maternity leave. Talking to her made me take a step back and realize all the things that I do have, the opportunities I've been given are such blessings and so amazingly wonderful I'm thankful to have been given this life. And I wouldn't trade it for the world.

Current, Recurrent, and Postcurrent

Currently, I announced that it was my POA (plan of attack!) to attempt to move out of the nest. The apartment I saw this week has made me rethink this option, want to fly my ass off and save real money for a down payment on a condo of my own. My cool roommates Mom&Dad aren't so bad afterall.

Recurrent, as in recurrent training. I'm eligible to fly for another year. Yay! However, next year, I do recurrent and THEN fly an international trip. Most definitely NOT the other way around, as I've been doing it for the past three years. Sleep deprivation is not cute nor productive.

Postcurrent... is that even a word?... I found an interesting jumpseat read: Steve Harvey's Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man. I learned that I should not give out my number, that I should take his and if I so choose and deem you worthy then maybe I'll call. I was impressed with myself for dressing appropriately/conservatively and not like sex, as Mr. Harvey says, and that I do indeed send myself home at a reasonable hour (anywhere from midnight to one in the morning). I'm disappointed in myself for not being able to say exactly what I think, and finding I prefer to keep my mouth shut as to appear to give consensus when that's not always the truth. I'd rather have the appearance of fitting in than let it be known otherwise, thereby forcing those around me to accept me for who I am. Blame it on my childhood, the job, the fact that I'm only 25 and there are still social situations when I want to be liked. Stirring softly is the the beat to my own drum and someday I'll be better at pacing myself, listening to it, doing what is best for me as well as the ultimate being true to myself. I'm pretty sure that's what's know as being THIRTY.

Being A Big Kid

When we were still in college, I used to refer to everything in the adult world, such as employment, as a big kid job. Now that I've been out of school for three years, it is about time I got myself started on this big kid-ness.

Big Kid Life Step #1: Move out of the nest.

I'm going to look at an apartment down the shore on Tuesday, potential move in date is October 1.

Big Kid Life Step #2: Debit Control

I called and consolidated my credit cards to one card, 0% interest with no foreign transaction fees. I owe less than 2G's, but I don't want to owe anyone anything. Car loans and student loans are reasonable... $150 in eye cream? Not so much. I also got together last year's tax return to have it adjusted by an aviation specialized for the per diem.

Big Kid Life Step #3: He's Just Not That Into You

He didn't call. And its not because I did something wrong; there are no should have/could have/would haves. He's not into me and that's okay. Because someone else somewhere out there is and just as I don't want to settle, I don't want to be settled for.

(Begrudgingly) Big Kid Life Step #4: Clean Your Room... And Car

I live in the car, the room is back up support for my transient lifestyle. Unfortunately for me, I have to keep them tidy. I can do it. I can.


It is time to pick up and move on with my life as a single, 25 year old woman in this day and age. I've been waiting so long for something or someone to happen to me that I forgot how to take charge and be responsible for me. I'm what's happening, I'm making it happen, and then, I know in my heart there is a good, wholesome man out there waiting to stumble upon me.

They'll Know We Are Christians By Our Love

Last summer and the beginning of September, we were frightfully understaffed in the international base. It worked out well for me because I had my first trip to Paris! International, First Class, Paris, might I add. However, due to the short staffing, there were a lot of domestic reserves on the juniority trips - it's how I met my BFF JWebs. On one of the many LHRs I did that month there was another EWR reserve by the name of Anna who's a super sweet Southern girl; she was assigned BusinessFirst aisle and had never even been on a Boeing 777! I was working in another cabin and was unaware of her performance, or the fact that no one she was working with was willing to help her. When Anna spilt water on some nasty passenger, he along with her co-workers proceeded to rip her a new one. My memory fails, but when I saw her in the crew room just before my MAN, she said that because of me she didn't spend the whole trip crying in the lav, that I was so kind and sweet to her. And I don't even remember! To me, it just goes to show how utterly important it is to be nice and sweet and caring to the strangers you meet because you know not the cross they bear - plus I must be doing something right!