SIX EXITS

Some people decorate with motion-sensor skeletons that make your dogs freak out and then pee on themselves. Or your shoe, whichever happens to be closer. In this case, it was the shoe.

Here's the part where it gets a little strange. A demon in a wheelchair? Or the Travelocity Gnome paying the price for one to many "trips" to Amsterdam? You decide.

For me, it was a good reminder that I need to sign up for long term disability at my work. You never know when your eyeballs might catch on fire.

At first I thought this was some sort of memorial for an accident. Kind of like a giant white cross on the side of the road except this time it's a giant blue Miata in someone's front lawn.

As I looked a little bit closer and realized that, yes, it indeed was a tragic accident. Apparently the skeleton had one two many shots and the good purple witch of the Mid-Atlantic took the fall. Or the crash through the windshield. Is that her ghost I see in the backseat? Whoever it is, it looks a *little* to happy to be freshly deceased. And look at the front. That bastard of a skeleton is sleeping it off on the hood. I bet he didn't even call 911. For shame...

Our next exhibit involves the white trash pumpkin. He's puking out his guts and STILL drinking a Coors Light. That is what we call a puke and rally, folks. How could I tell that he was white trash? The cheap beer perhaps? Nope. It was the wallpapered toilet that gave it away...

Last, but not least, we have the phallic symbol decor. This lovely string of lights belongs to our neighbors. I'm thinking about leaving a small note on their front porch that says a little something like this.

Dear neighbors,

Your Halloween lights look like franks and
beans. That is all. Happy Halloweenie.

I mean Halloween.

Love, the people across the street.

Stay tuned for the Christmas edition!

I am just a few years shy of 30 and I've only been to 3% of the world's countries. And I work in the travel industry? For shame, for shame... My goal is to bring it up to 10% by my 30th birthday. I'm figuring Europe will knock out a bunch at a time. An then maybe Israel. And New Zealand. And Thailand. And... I'm going to have to win the lotto aren't I?

Question of the day: Where have you been? I'm sure a lot of you can beat my measly 3%!

This is my fourth day this month sitting Airport Standby (which is A LOT). For those of you unaccustomed to flight attendant jargon, let me explain. Here's the process. First, you have to be on reserve, then scheduling calls and tells you they need you to sit "standby" at such and such time. The earliest 5 hour shift starts at 4:30am and the latest ends at 11pm. Basically, after you receive the call you have approximately 2 hours to hustle your booty to the airport and run up to the flight attendant lounge. (Yes, we have a lounge. It's equipped with about a dozen computers , a big screen TV and 8 black fake leather couches. Each typically adorned with sleeping, eating or chatting flight attendants. We also have four sinks, four dressing rooms and two irons. 4+4+2 = 1500 gorgeous flight attendants, right? Its almost comical when you walk in at 5am and see 30 flight attendants in various states of undress with half their hair flat-ironed and only one eye made up. Some of these poor ladies (and men) are just waking up from a night spent on a 4ft pleather couch with 20 overhead lights blaring down and a blanket snagged from a plane. That, my friends, is why I don't commute.) Back to airport standby. I was called at 2:30pm today to "hustle in" for my 5:30 shift. I will be here until 10:30pm if I don't get called to work. This is pretty much rinse and repeat from last Sunday. Let me give you an example of how my day could turn out... Last week I checked in for standby at 10am. I sat around, watch Forest Gump, crocheted and crapped my pants every time the scheduling phone rang. Yes, they have their own phone. Here's what it looked like....

Ashlie: Watching Forest Gump and crocheting a purse.
Riiiinnnng.
Ashlie: Crapping her pants thinking "Is it for me? Where are they going to send me? Will I be working with someone I know? What if I have to fly to (insert poe-dunk USA town with nasty hotel here) tonight?!?...."
Riiiiiiiinnnng.
Ashlie: "Is anyone going to answer the effing phone??? Can't they see I'm watching Forest Gump?".....
Riiiiinnnnnng.
Ashlie: "Please don't use me, please don't use me, please don't use me...."
Someone picks up phone and yells, "Is there an Ashlie here? Ashlie? Anyone by the name of Ashlie?"
Ashlie: Makes note to change pants. Ends up getting the 3 day trip from hell (see earlier blog entry), but in the meantime she still has to sit another 2 hours before the trip even leaves. At least she can (and did) finish Forest Gump.

You can see how this can be a very adrenaline filled situation. Or maybe its just me, with my anxiety issues and all. Who knows? All I know is if I have to sit any more freakin' standby I'm going to be needing a lot more pants....

Your favorite guest blogger is back! Repeat after me- *We heart Greg. We will take the ear buds out of our ears now.*

So close and yet so far away.

I knew it would happen sooner or later. I finally got stuck with a Dulles overnight. Do you know what it is like to work all these trips then be 36 miles from home and not get to go there?? It sucks. The overnight is nice, a crown plaza, but i could be home nailing down base boards right now. It is also the longest overnight i have ever had...21 hours. Hell I should walk home.... Instead I am hogging the computer in the business center. My blog is more important that your expense report. Most of the true professionals have a laptop anyway. Thats how I look at it.

I got to practice my German in the bar last night. The German airforce is staying at the hotel. Not all of them, Just a few. Thought i would clarify that so you nut jobs don't think the new world order is coming to get you.

I have had some good crews lately, I guess i finally have got my groove back. I think pm's are the trick. Im even getting used to sleeping past 5am. The bad thing about pm's is its the world of late night bar food. I am going to turn into a quesadilla...It is the one food that most hotel bars dont screw up. Except for Salt lake...thier quesadillas are pretty rough.

Pm's are great for people watching as well. It really is fun to see how different the am'rs are to the pm'rs.....to say i have seen alot of rude behavior in the last few trips is an understatement...I will leave it at that.......Alcohol changes everything.d

To keep from choking the passengers I hit a nice 1:20 min run yesterday. Nothing puts me in a nice mood like that. Mostly cuz I am too damn tired to care what you do after i run that far. I will say one thing though....I'm sick of Ipods. Please take the ear buds out of your ears when I'm talking to you. Rude little sh*$#@. I'm done now.

I'm getting the evil eye from some guy next to me....I hope the nosey little turd is reading this.

That's all i got till i get home and do something interesting.

Here's the link to G's blog. Its a Myspace thing, although I've been trying to cajole him into becoming a "real" blog dork like me. Sarcastic and single. Just the way the web likes 'em.

Does anyone remember Real World Paris? Then you will DEFINELTY recognize this lovely, albeit controversial mug.

It took me about 30 minutes to recognize him and I still couldn't place it. Then I thought he might just look like someone famous. I mean, I get told that I look like Nicole Kidman once a week, so ANYTHING is possible. Finally I decided to just ask him.

The conversation went a little something like this...

Ashlie: Um... have I seen you somewhere.

C.T. : I work for a charity called...(I forget the
name).

Ashlie: Noooo.... like on TV or something.

C.T. : Maybe in a commercial for the charity.

Ashlie: *puzzle pieces fall together* Were you on Real World?

C.T.: "Noooo, but this guy was." *he then starts to laugh and turn to his seatmate who, let me tell ya, was NEVER on Real World.*

Ashlie: *says with a smile* "I have a pretty good BS meter and I think you're lying to me." *sucking up to celebrities was never my forte*

C.T.: Hahaha "Do you wanna go out to the bar with us in Manchester?"

Ashlie: "No. I want to go home and go to bed."

I give him a celebrity rating of 6.5 on a scale of 10. He was obnoxious but pretty nice. The lying definitely made him lose at least 2 pts. All in all, he wasn't snobby but you could tell he was a loose cannon. So I thanked him for the invite and wished him all the best luck boozing it up in New Hampshire. The end.

• Overnights: First night we stayed in the ever humid city of Tampa, Fl. My overnight was only 12 hours so I didn't get much of a chance to enjoy the hotel pool. Sad. The second night was in NY.

• Legs (number of flights in one day): The first day consisted of 4 legs. This was after sitting FIVE hours of airport standby. I arrived at the airport on Sunday at 10am and didn't get to Tampa until 11pm. Major sucktitude. Did I mention each leg was full? Bah. The second and third days weren't as bad. I even had to dead head (ride non-working flight to get me to my next trip) the 2nd day.


• Hotels: I saw a cockroach in Tampa a few months ago, so I've been leery ever since. Fortunately it was bug-free this time. Not that I would have noticed, 'cause I slept like the dead. The hotel in NY was awesome. A really nice Hyatt with super comfy beds and even an IPOD alarm clock. Tres chic!
  
• Crew: I'm going to keep it short and sweet. Positives: They were good flight attendants and the customers liked them. Negatives: One of them liked to hear her own voice and would hop on the PA system about every 3 seconds. Even when we only had 11 pax. The other was a clone of Michel Gerard, the french receptionist on Gilmore Girls. Since my name is not Lorelai Gilmore I had issues dealing. Many, many issues...

• Customers: During boarding I had to stand smack in the middle of the airplane and greet the customers. Also known as the "sandwiched" flight attendant position. Anyway, I had my most charming smile in place and was handing out hello's with abandon when one gentleman sneered at me. Not just a normal sneer, like, an Elvis sneer. Twice. It's hard to explain but it was one of the most bizarre things I've ever seen. The flight right after that another guy chirped at me when I asked how his day was going. An actual bird chirp. Even the pax around me look bewildered. The craziest thing about this was that both these guys were straitlaced businessmen. Suits and all.


• Stories: The pilots this trip were really nice, so the second day I decided to visit them up front. Okay... maybe I did this for my own sanity to get away from the other 139 people in the plane. Anyway, the captain told this funny story about another pilot we'll call Bob. Bob lived in Nashville and was notorious for calling in sick every time his plane went through the city. If he had only flown 2 hours of a 4 day day trip but it went though Nashville he would call in sick. Apparently he was making such a habit of it that one day after checking in for a trip the chief pilot (head-honcho pilot) called Bob into his office. He explained to Bob that they were on to him and he needed to knock it off. Bob nodded his head, picked up the chief pilot's phone and called in sick. He then turned to the chief and said "I can't fly when I feel bad, and you're making me feel bad". Needless to say he retired a few months later.

Pictures:

This is my favorite spot on all my overnights. Isn't it pretty? Tampa has such nice weather, so you can sit on the swing and watch the ducks all day long. Um...not that I could watch ducks all day long. I am so lame.

This is one of the cushiest hotels in the system. Here's the IPOD alarm clock. I tried jamming it in my suitcase but it wouldn't fit.

p.s. I don't steal. 'Specially from hotels 'cause they will get you. Oh, and karma would come and hunt me down, just like Earl.

Yes. I am writing you from a closet at my hotel. Okay, the hotel calls it a "computer room" but with one computer in a small dark, damp 6x8 room I call it a closet. In fact, I've had bigger closets in my lifetime. Much bigger. To top that off, the keyboard is sticky and I have to POUND it to get half of the letters to work. GAH!

This trip has been a 8 on the trip suckky scale (10 being complete nervous breakdown material). My crew, um... my mom said not to say anything if you can't be nice and that about sums it up. Also, I got hit in the head with a bag. I was threatened with a lawsuit. I forgot to give a pax $16 change which resulted in more "crew" issues... I'll give you the complete rundown of suck-titude tomorrow. When I have a keyboard that doesn't give my forearm cramps.

On the plus side I got to catch a show on National Geographic this morning called "Crash in the Mountains". A thrilling tale about an AA flight that crashes, you guessed it, into the mountains. Oh joy. At least I'm not flying over any mountain ranges today.....

Hopefully your week has started better than mine.

Question of the Day: Have any of you started Christmas shopping yet? I'm feeling guilty for not starting. Then again, I am not normal.

Once or twice a week I'm going to try to answer some of your questions about my job, myself or my incredible *ha* writing skills. Here's our first lucky contestant.

Hi,

I found your blog and have really enjoyed reading your past posts. I also majored in business in college and am considering a career change as I want do something other than work in a office for a period of time. I am single and work in a very male dominated office (waste management industry), so I have little opportunity to meet a potential girlfriend/wife at work. So, I was wondering if you might like to provide a bit of advice...Would you say a career as a male flight attendant is a good one for possibly meeting a potential wife? I would like my new career to be one where there is opportunity to meet and connect with others.

Thanks,

Steve

Dear Steve,

First off thanks so much for reading my blog! That brings the total up to 10, which is more than my mom so I'm pretty happy right now. Anyway, moving on to your question. First off, becoming a flight attendant was the best thing I've ever done. But? Its not for everyone. Before we dissect your question let me ask you a few things....

Do you thrive on routine or like your environment to be ever-changing? Do you mind spending 2-3+ nights a week in a hotel room? Do people get on your nerves easily? Do you mind missing holidays,birthdays etc, for a few years?

Lets tally up your score. Did you answer YES to spending the night in a hotel in Milwaukee on Thanksgiving and missing your iguana's birthday while working every other Wednesday and not killing the passengers when they yell at you? If so, than you too can be a flight attendant. Now lets move on to the meat of the issue. Finding your potential wife (to all those ladies out there looking for a good man BINGO we have one here!). Instead of rambling on, I'm going to make a pro/con list for you.

Pro's for becoming a f/a to meet your special someone

You get to meet a WHOLE lotta people in one day. One of my old roommates went on a date 5 nights in a row with different guys she met on the plane.

The flight attendant work force is predominately female. Single f/a woman can smell a straight male flight attendant a mile away.

You can take a lot of time off to be with your significant other and/or work your schedule around theirs.

Cons for becoming a f/a to meet your special
someone.

If you date a civilian (not a co-worker) it can be hard to start a new relationship when you're gone so many days in a row. Some days, because of my schedule, I only get to talk to my husband for 10 minutes the ENTIRE day.

How do I put this tactfully? Some female f/a's are looking for a "short-term" situation (like, 24 hrs), while others are looking for a $$$ situation (like, a pilot).

My friend Greg, who also blogs, wrote a great little article on being a male flight attendant. I'll let him sum it up:

Here are some boy stewardess facts...I will tell you that things are a little different for male flight attendants. Especially the straight ones. We are kinda like pirates in a way...because like the pirates of old...no one is really glad to see us when we show up.... We show up, and its sorta like.......oh, shit.....Case in point. First flight of the trip and the federal air marshals show up..I'm in the jetway by myself and they flash the creds and tell me that they brought some donuts "for the girls" ..they had a full box of krispy kremes ...I told them, you mean "the guys" ....the look was one of despair and pain....like i had hit each of them in the nuts with a horse shoe. With out missing a beat, i got a donut and ran on board to do my security sweep. Like I said, I love being me. .... .. I cant tell you over the years how many times i have seen forlorn look of a young first officer as he finds out that he is flying with me and not the cute blond he has been chatting with in the lobby, for the last half hour. A look is worth a thousand words. Same goes for male passengers, I'm always hearing " Where are all the cute girls today" I usually tell them "At home, in my bed" ....And just so you know we are all assumed gay until proven otherwise. I used to care about this, but i don't really give a crap anymore, mostly because I have three ex-girlfriends in the company, and everyone knows it. And I mean everyone....

Good luck with your decision Steve! If you have any more questions don't hesitate to ask....

Until next time,

Ashlie

I could write a lot about pilots, good and bad, but before I get started I would like say that 90% of the pilots I fly with are really great guys. Another 8% I'm going to let go for having a 'bad' day, but the last 2% have no excuse. Ahhh, those wicked last 2%.

As a brand spankin' new flight attendant I wasn't sure what to expect with crew interactions. I was gullible and perhaps a tad naive (who me???). I learned very quickly. My first month online I was doing a cabin safety inspection before the plane boarded. It was early in the morning and since the plane was empty the pilots were sitting in the front row eating breakfast. Every time I walked by their row they would whisper something and wink at eachother. About four times into this little "game" the captain grabbed me by the waist and pulled me onto his lap. Poor little 23 year old Ashlie was stunned and incapable of moving. He then proceeded to tell me that the company was requiring all new flight attendants to get physicals and wasn't it my lucky day 'cause he could give me one. I was so disgusted it was all I could do to not run off the plane and take a shower.

With those wicked last 2% you can usually expect it to sound like a high school locker room in the cockpit. Most of them have been married multiple times. Most of them wear socks with sandals. Some of them buy you drinks or dinner to get in your pants and some are just being nice. It's really a mixed bag. I could tell you more hair raising tales, but I'll save those for a rainy day, instead let me finish off on a positive note. Last Thanksgiving I had to work, which is always a bummer and everyone know it. The captain brought us gift bags as a token of his appreciation for "showing up and doing a great job." He had included bandaids, Airborne, mints, Tide pens, Aspirin (for when the passengers give us headaches), $10 in ones for van driver tips and a $25 dollar Starbucks giftcard. I had to pinch him to see if he was real.

All in all airline crews are a lot like fruit. Some are sweet, some are bananas, and some are just rotten....

Don't ever mess around on your blog at midnight when you're half asleep. You may end up deleting your templete and NEVER getting it back.

It all started on a jumpseat. Last June I was chatting with my "B" flight attendant on a trans-con flight about (what else) our dogs. She told me about her beagle who was a 3 year old rescue dog. Not just any rescue, he was rescued from a laboratory. As a test animal he had endured being cut open, starved, neglected and many other atrocities. I was disgusted. I continued to think about this little dog for the next week or so. Every time I rubbed my little dogs belly or scratched my big dogs ears I had the overwhelming sense that I needed to do something for those animals that had no voice. What could I do? Going kamikaze was not an option. So I did what I do best, I jumped on the Internet and went on a mission to find out if any products I used were being tested on animals. Sure enough they were. My Suave body wash, my toothpaste, my mascara, my vitamins, my dog food and even my favorite candy, Reece's Pieces, were all from companies who do invasive, cruel tests on animals. I was floored. Why would a dog food company treat dogs so cruelly? Because they can. Because it saves them pennies on the dollar.
I needed to find alternatives to these products so a few minutes later I landed myself on the "caring consumer"website. Not only did they provide a wealth of information about companies that did and did NOT test on animals they also sent me small pamphlets to carry in my purse and pull out whenever I'm shopping. Next I scurried over to amazon and purchased a book called "The Way We Eat: Why Our Food Choices Matter" by Peter Singer, a professor at Princeton University. Two days later I had the book in my hands. I sat down on my couch and began to read. What I read changed the way I think about many things. At the risk of sounding cliche, it changed my life. Here's a brief synopsis of the book.

If anyone can tell me why my graphics only work every other Tuesday I would be much obliged. Blogger may be free but it's making me rip my hair out and hair, as we all know, is expensive. Especially little sparkling highlights every 2.5 months. I digress. I know about as much HTML code as my grandmother and it's really starting to piss me off. Am. So. Over. It. Help? HELP?!?
If you can solve my problem I will give you my... um... my... I'm not quite sure. How about my respect and undying love and many, many mentions on my blog? If you have no clue about Blogger (adding extra emphasis on the BLAH) please let me know which platform you use. Wordpress? Typepad? Did you have someone design your page? Did you do it? Do you want to design a page for a partially insane peanut slinging flight attendant? Hmm? HMMM?

*backs slowly away from little Dell laptop as it starts to whimper....*

Update 11pm: NOW the graphics work. Of course.....

(by graphics I mean the picture of the cute waving flight attendants and the daisy)

You know you're a flight attendant when...

You can eat a 4-course meal or your Thanksgiving dinner standing at the counter in the kitchen.

You search for a button to flush the toilet.

You look for the "crew line" at the grocery store.

You can pack for a 2 week trip to Europe in 1 roll-aboard.

All of your pens have different hotel names on them.

You NEVER unpack.

You can recognize pilots on an overnight by their shoes, not by their faces.

You can tell from 70 yards away if a piece of luggage will fit in the overhead bin.

You know at least 25 uses for air sickness bags-none of which pertain to vomit.

You understand and actually use the 24-hour clock.

You own 2 sets of uniforms: fat and thin.

You don't think in "months" -you think in "bid packets."

You always point with two fingers.

You get a little too excited by certain types of ice.

You stand at the front door and politely say "Buh-bye, thanks, have a nice day" when someone leaves your home.

You can make a sentence using all of the following phrases: "At this time," "For your safety," "Feel free," and "As a reminder."

You know what's on the cover of the current issues of UsWeekly, In Touch, and People magazines.

You stop and inspect every fire extinguisher you pass, just to make sure the "gauge is in the green."

Your thighs are covered in bruises from armrests and elbows.

You wake up and have to look at the hotel stationery to figure out where you are.

You refer to cities by their airport codes.

You can sleep sitting bolt upright in a chair-- any chair, anywhere.

You are amazed how passengers cannot figure out how to rearrange items so that more things can easily be fit into the overhead bin.

You can get more therapy from conversations on the jump seat than you can from your $150 an hour psychologist. Of course, none of what you say is confidential.

You don't remember what day it is, Monday, Tuesday, etc.

You know more than 10 things you can cook in a one cup coffee maker.

You can iron a mean grilled cheese.

Have a great weekend!

After a hit of NyQuil and cozy pair of pj's I climbed into bed to read for a bit before a cold-killing induced slumber floated my direction. Basically any conversation was doomed from the start. This one especially.

Joel: "I'm reading this really weird book, its pretty good though."

Ashlie: "Oh ya? Whats it about snookums?"

Joel: "About this guy who's dad is a mountain and his mom is a washing machine. His brother is an island but one is also a psychopath who killed his childhood sweetheart. Cut her into pieces. The guy lives in Canada and -"

Ashlie: interrupting. "What. ARE. You. Reading?"

Joel: "Like I said, its really different. But good. Apparently when the mom washing machine has a baby she starts rumbling a lot. That's the cue for the guy to open up the washing machine because they'll be another baby. Then he hooks it up to her drain hose or something so it can feed-"

Ashlie: interrupting again. "Does the mom also do laundry? I mean, can she wash a load of whites?"

Joel: "Noooo. She lives in a cave in the mountain (who's the dad). She doesn't talk or do the wash."

Ashlie: "How does she get knocked up?"

Joel: "I think its the special mountain water."

Ashlie: In a NyQuil induced stupor thinks....."avoid mountain water from now on"....

p.s. The name of this really weird, but good book is "Someone Comes to Town, Someone Leaves Town" by Cory Doctorow. All I can say is that is gave me nightmares.

p.p.s. I don't call Joel snookums. He's more of a sugar bum.

The hardest part (physically) of my job is the odd hours. When you work an AM trip you are typically up and at work between 5-7am. PM trips can start anytime between 12-8pm, which is both a blessing and a curse. On Sunday, for example, my PM trip didn't have to check-in until 6 o'clock. That meant that I was able to go to church, make lunch and be a lazy bum for the majority of the day. It also meant that my head didn't hit a pillow until 2am. Rinse and repeat for day two. My plane didn't even land until 11:15 am last night and by the time I got home it was midnight. Joel crawled up the stairs to bed and I plopped on the couch. Figured that I needed to "wind down" a bit. So I wound down with 3 hours of staring at the computer screen. Very productive, I know. When I crawled into bed at 3am I was whooped. Consequently I woke up at 11am this morning. I will spend the rest of the day "recouping" from my trip and try to reset my body clock by drinking a glass of Riesling, taking a meletonin and going to bed before 11pm. We'll see.....
Anywho, my trip was great even with the really later nights. Here's a summary (new format!):

Tripa-palooza!

• Overnights: First night was SLC (Salt Lake City), the second was LAS (Las Vegas).

• Legs (see Flight Attendant Lingo 101 sidebar for definition): The first day was pretty nice with only 2 legs. The second day made up for the first with a jarring 5 legs. The last day only had 3 legs, but they were all pretty long....

• Hotels: No bed bugs around for all 15 hours in SLC. Even Circus Circus and its crazy, loud, smoky, seizure inducing atmosphere didn't do me in....
  

• Crew: Really, really nice. The guy was an avid mountain biker, ex-MP and the girl was a fresh-faced green-card carrying Canadian. Lets just say that the sarcasm was flowing like wine. Very, very delicious wine that I haven't tasted in like 3.5 weeks.....
  
• Customers: Not too crazy. Only had a couple weirdo's. I spent a good 10 minutes miming with one little old Asian woman trying to figure out what the heck she wanted. She made these crazy hand gestures at her seat and every time I guessed something she would shake her head vehemently. Pillow? Shakes head. Blanket? Shakes head. Is your seat dirty? Shakes head. She then proceeds to fold up her coat and sit on it. Booster seat? (I didn't actually say this one...) Finally I gave up and got her two pillows. Bingo. Pillows for booster seat. People around me started clapping.
  
• Stories: G, my male flight attendant who's been doing the job 10 years, told me this great story. A lady handed him a bottle to warm up in the back. The guy that G was flying with swiped it out of his hands and squirted it into his coffee for a little bit of "creamer." G waited until he had drank half the glass before mentioning that it was breast milk. He said the look on his face was priceless.... Stealing milk from a baby! For shame!

• "Incidents": After deplaning our 3rd flight of the day a supervisor came on board and asked me if we had just flown in from Ontario. We had. Apparently a *really, really, smart* man had forgotten to get off the plane when he was supposed to. He told her that he went to sleep next to a really heavy woman and woke up next to a hottie and was confused. I'd say so buddy, I'd say so.....

• Map: Around the world in 3 days. Or at least most the United States. (Note: Pilots do not fly in straight lines....or even walk in them.)

By now you are probably clawing your eyes out screaming "freakin' finish already!". Okay, Okay! Keep your pants on and hold your horses 'cause I think we are finally done.

#6. I am totally uncool. In fact, I am a wrinkly 80 year old woman trapped in 20 something year old body. Not in a demonic or reincarnated kind of way, more in an 'old soul' kind of way. I tried the crazy college thing, the sorority thing and even the "I am cooler than thou hitting the LA clubs" thing. These "things" made me anxious and didn't quite fit, much like O.J. Simpson's infamous glove.
That's when I felt the true 80 year old in me. She was calling me to higher pursuits. Like gardening. Sitting by the fire and reading a book. Watching old movies with my husband and a big bowl of popcorn. Made on the stove. Baking cookies for my neighbors. Baking cookies for my husband. Eating all the cookies myself. Cross country skiing (score one for the 20 year old hips!!!). Learning to sew and crotchet. Drinking copious amounts of prune juice (just kidding)! You get the point. Like I said before, I am totally uncool. The only thing that saves me from being absolutely tragic is the fact that I read about 8 million magazines a month on the plane. My fashion sense may be more Audrey Hepburn's love child with Jessica Biehl and Katie Holmes (ménage à troi!) dressing blindly in the dark than Sienna Miller but I'll take it. My only worry is that someday I will fall off the slippery slope of not caring and never look back. Then I'll be more Rosie O'Donnell. And it will be sad.


#7. I love my husband. I would have to argue with anyone who said their husband was the best. Because mine is. Hands down. My perfect match. *Shout out to God- Thanks for the great man! Love him! You did good!* Here's a rundown of our history...

~ We met (at church) when I was 17 (barely) and he was 15 (almost 16). Yes, I am a cradle robber. I pursued him. I think I might have scared him even. But regardless, we started "going out" 2 months later.

~A year later a cop busted us making out in the parking lot of our college football stadium. I was 18. He was a minor. It was humiliating. (Hey filthy minds, it was just good clean, clothes on kinda fun).

~ We broke up twice. Realized that the grass was actually brown and had no sense of humor on the other side.

~ Joel proposed in a very sweet elaborate 9 step "treasure" hunt. We were married a year after that in a small ceremony of 35 people. It was magical. We have been together since February 98 and married since April 05.

What can I say? The end.

I'm not very good at gambling, never have been, when I win money I get all sweaty at the thought of losing it so I slowly back away from the table and try not to look guilty. My thought process runs something like this: I just won $5 of their money. They will be coming for me soon. Must walk quickly and with a purpose. The most I've ever won was $75 in the first 5 minutes of gambling with Julie while waiting for Carmen Electra to show at our local casino. She never showed. It was a very boring night walking around with my free coke and $75 in my pocket staring at the shiny buttons.

Sometimes my job also requires some gambling. If I get in late will my trip get pulled tomorrow? If I bid Sunday-Tuesday reserve will I get used? If Thanksgiving is on a Thursday does that mean I'll get to hold the weekends off? The most recent being how many days of reserve can I pick up without working? The precise answer is 2. Now I'm stuck with a crappy 3 day trip to SLC (Salt Lake City, bed bug USA) and LAS (Vegas). This time I'll try to practice what I preach and keep itchy welt free. Hopefully. My 11 hours in Vegas will be charming I'm sure.

Tomorrow- #6 and 7, promise.

Well, here we are still playing tag and I have yet to complete my seven "fun, unique facts" about my life. So here I go with #4-5. Put down any sharp objects and step away from the oven. We wouldn't wany anyone hurting themselves.

#4. I am petrified, let me repeat PETRIFIED, of bears. It all started out innocently enough. In high school my friend Betsy and I took a road trip to Glacier National Park which is an absolutely amazing, gorgeous place. We were planning on staying at one of the Glacier campgrounds but at the last minute decided on the local KOA. Which quite possibly saved our lives. We woke up the next morning to find flyers splashed around the KOA about a fatal bear attack the night before. In the same campground we had planned on staying. We were so freaked out that we did the only possible logical (ha) thing to do. We went to the convenience store and bought a book on bear attacks. We then proceeded to read every gory detail to each other as we drove through the park one last time. I am becoming okay with black bears (smaller, less likely to eat you type) but Grizzles will always be out of the question. It got so bad that at one point on my layovers in Anchorage and Fairbanks, Alaska I was actually peeping around corners for bears in the middle of town. Who knows when a rogue bear could wander in and decide to scalp you at the local mall? I'm not taking any chances.

The picture below is on a hike in Yosemite (black bears only) a couple years ago. Notice the can of bear spray? Lets just say that I had a very itchy trigger finger all 12 miles. I think Joel got a little nervous...

#5. I have had many, many different jobs in the last 10 years and I'm not even counting the millions of babysitting gigs or jobs held under 3 months. During high school and college I had a voracious appetite for clothing and way to many credit cards. Learned my lesson. Plastic = from the DEVIL. In fact, I'm pretty sure that Visa may stand for very insane stupid a-hole. Just a guess. Anywho, here they are from beginning to end.

Janitor. Very classy. I preferred the title "cleaning lady". Apparently I scrubbed the floors well enough to be promoted to Cashier. Those were my first two at a local pharmacy. Well I was a cashier I also worked at a "sales rep" for Abercrombie & Fitch and then Banana Republic. Five years later still own some clothes from both stores. And I wonder why my wardrobe is out of date? Gah.

Next, I decided to try out the fitness venue. I became a certified personal trainer for a local gym and also took a certification class in aerobic instruction and finally Yoga. At Washington State University I taught aerobics and yoga classes. That was fun. I have never been more limber or in better shape. Helllloooo triceps!

During my last semester of college I started working for the Devil again as a manager at Abercrombie & Fitch. Apparently I am a gluten for pain. I spent almost two torturous years in the pit before being hired on at my first airline. I loved being a flight attendant from the get-go. No job has ever fit my personality so perfectly. I spent a year with this airline before applying to one on the east coast. During this time I worked for a small, but mighty escrow agency as an escrow officer assistant. I assisted a wonderful english woman who was one of the sweetest employers I've ever worked for. Occasionaly she would get in a foul mood and let a few words fly. It was then I learned that its nearly impossible to be offended by anyone with an accent. Even when she swore (which was rarely) it sounded musical. Eventually Joel and I left Los Angeles and moved to Baltimore where I started my current position as a.... do I really have to say it? Duh.

I know that I said I would provide #4-7 today but I give up. Must actually do something productive with my day than sitting on the couch. Gah.

Tag you're it! Please tell us 7 interesting things about you!

1. Julie

2. Michelle

3. Lisa

I will have 4 more people lined up tomorrow so be prepared!

Behind this bubbly, blonde persona lurks a much darker, crazier creature and I'm not just talking about my natural hair color. Enter Abbie, who tagged me a few days ago to find out (the lucky number) seven things that you didn't know about me. Buckle up, 'cause here we go!

1. I come from a family of five kids. FIVE kids. I am the oldest. Which means that I strive to please, am used to being the center of attention and try to gain and hold superiority over other children/people/animals. I was an only child for six years which makes me even more self-centered. Although I would never admit to any of this with my excessive pride and all. With that said who wouldn't want to be my friend! Wowsa! I have a 21 year old brother, 20 year old sister and 17 year old twin sisters. My parents were really, really busy to say the least.


2. My hair has been every shade of the rainbow and just about every length. I was born a blonde and it kept on getting darker and darker until I was a really disgusting ashy bronde color. That was 8th grade which, consequently, was my first experience with highlights. Ah, those blessed little rays of sunshine streaks in my hair. I couldn't get enough. I was cold, hard addicted. It took me about five years to rebel against blonde=beautiful and go dark. Really dark. Too dark. Then I went red. And orange. And blackish. All the while I had a asymmetrical bob, choppy shag or a long and frizzy 'do. Here's a picture of a recent do a couple years ago. You can tell that its about 100 degrees different right now. Personally I rue the day that I let a beauty school student "trim" eight inches off my hair. I miss my long hair. Moment of silence for the hair.

3. My left thumb is 1/2 an inch shorter than my right. Not only is it shorter, its also wider. And no, I did not get it slammed in a door or hit by a hammer. And yes, it does make for a great party trick. You know the story.... you're at a little "gathering" and there seems to be an awkward lull in conversation. Enter Ashlie's thumb, "Hey ya'll! My thumb is deformed, wanna see?". If people don't chuck up their mini quiches then it usually starts a rousing bout of conversation about double jointed elbows and mystery rashes. You should try it! Tres gentil!

The "trip from hell" was actually pretty decent. Better than decent. Really, really nice. It helps to fly with a great crew, it can turn a horrible 13 leg trip in airport hotels into a gem. Lets review.

Day Two. Getting in the groove.

By day two everything is easier. Home seems very distant and as much as you miss you husband/dogs/luscious bug free bedding you realize that every leg gets you closer to it. We flew with the same pilots for two days, which is nearly unheard of, and they were actually not sleazly. Miracle of miracles.

After we landed in Ohio I hit the gym (which is awesome!) and tried to mix it up. My usual workout involves 30-40 minutes of cardio followed by 20-30 minutes of lifting. Soooo.... it was a lower body day and I decided on a double whammy of leg fatiguing cardio. Enter the Versaclimber. Or. Versaclimber of death. If you have never tried this thing I can pretty only compare it to climbing Mt. Everest without oxygen. I lasted 5 minutes before I thought I might fall off backwards. After my legs felt movable again I headed down to meet my crew for dinner. Good dinner, great company, perfect ending for a really nice day.

Day Three. So over it.

By day three you are counting the minutes until it's over and its doubly sucky if your day is about 5 legs long. After the third leg you feel like toast. Without butter or jam. Just really, really dry toast. Which is exactly how I felt. On the plus side all of our flights were really empty so the work load was pretty light. And I ate a rice crispy treat. So it wasn't all bad. I also had a pax tell me that it was the best flight eva and she was going to write a letter about my mad flight attendant skills. We'll see. I actually have people tell me this quite a bit and 99% never follow through. If you want to do something nice for your flight attendant write a (good) letter. You will be repaid by many, many prayers of thanks and possible offering up of their first born's. It means a lot. Really.