Skip to main content

Stewardese, translated for YOU

I used to want to be a Airline Stewardess. But then I thought that maybe that wasn't such a great idea because, at the end of the day, you're just walking around a pressurized tube that sails through the air at 300 miles an hour while hustling cocktails and preparing for a catastrophic crash. All while wearing heels and panty hose. Fuck that.

Plus, I'm pretty sure that I'd find a way to screw up the little speech they give before take off. At the very least I'd struggle with keeping a straight face through some of it. As it is I can't help but translate their Stewardese into Bex Speak:

What the Stews say: "If the airplane cabin were to suddenly lose pressure..."

What I hear: It is possible that, at any given time and with NO real warning, there won't be enough oxygen on this fucker to sustain human life. But don't panic....

Them: "...in which case the oxygen masks will pop out of the overhead compartment. Please put on your mask before assisting anyone else."

Me: Plan on taking up some of the precious remaining air with a loud scream as something with tentacles just dropped on your head. Of course your ensuing panic is amplified as you were already feeling a little lightheaded (probably an effect of the lack of oxygen). You will be a lot more comfortable on this doomed flight if you allow the kid next to you to pass out from lack of air before you put his mask on.

Them: "...do not be alarmed when the oxygen mask doesn't inflate with air..."

Me: Let me get this straight...for some reason this plane doesn't have air in it. So I'm supposed to believe that this little plastic mask is somehow designed to allow me to breathe but just "looks" like it's failing. RIGHT. See you on the other side, bitches....

Them: "Everybody! Look at this bright and shiny object! It's called a SEAT BELT and here is how you use it. See this end? You stick it in that end. And then you pull it to make it tighter. So, just to recap, you put this part into this part...."

Me: I have a mental image of the individual for whom this is stated. He approaches the belt with cautious curiosity, initially hitting it with a stick to see if it bites. Of course he'll be making his chimp noises while investigating. Then, when his courage is worked up, he'll begin smacking the two belt ends together over his head while yelling, "Oklahoma! Oklahoma!" There will be drool on his shirt and a big pee stain on his pants because he forgot to shake it...again.

But I think the airlines need to add something to their seat belt spiel. Something like, "If your seat belt doesn't fit around your jelly belly please let one of us know immediately. Because this is an excellent indicator that you do not actually fit and probably are not really contained within the airspace of your seat. This could be construed as offensive to some, as we read about in this scathing post on the Blog of Bex. Apparently she was forced to wear someone else's fat like a parka. At any rate, big boned beauties need to procure two seats or be prepared to be featured in a blog entry."

Comments

April said…
I actually flew for the very first time in my life about a year ago and I'm not a small person so I wasn't sure if I was going to need another seat. I was actually having anxiety over being *that* girl with the ass too big spilling over into the seat next to me. Fortunately, for the flight out there, I had the row to myself anyway, though it turns out I didn't need it. As small as airplane seats are, turns out they are big enough for my butt. Phew.
Anonymous said…
I'm glad I'm not flying anywhere soon. If I were, your post certainly wouldn't have helped. ;)
Bex said…
April - I'm not tiny, either. But I find a way to stay within the confines of the seat. But I'll tell you, every time I fly it feels like the seats got smaller. And the leg room is ridiculous, too. My ass might be getting bigger. But my legs (cruelly) are getting no longer. All that I really have to do to get into crash position is put my chin down.

Unfinished - I'm always amazed when my plane safely lands. It seems so improbable that a pressurized tube, filled with people and fuel, can safely fly through the air to specific destinations.
LOBO said…
This link is for adults only, but it does support Bex's point ... :)
Jormengrund said…
When I was back in a chemistry class, my instructor showed us just how much bunk these stewardesses are telling you.

When you cruise at 30,000 feet, and suddenly lose cabin pressure, the entire space fills with a very dense fog. Not even the nifty gold cap on the end of the bag that drops will shine in this, and you'd be lucky to see your hand if you hit yourself in the face with it!

Then they ask you to breathe normally?

When cabin pressure is lost, the pilot has to decend immediately to a level where breathing can be sustained without mechanical assistance. This means a serious plummet to around 10,000 feet.

Yeah, you're in a tube that you can't see in, trying to get a little mask over your face while your stomach is trying to burst out of your throat, and if you get that bag over your face, you're supposed to breathe like there's NOTHING going on?

Myself, I imagine I'd be breathing like Bill Cosby's wife on his Parenthood comedy sketch!

Great post Bex!
Bex said…
LOBO - That's a "point" all right!

Joremengrund - In that case I strongly suspect that, when everyone regains consciousness, the smell of shit is in the air. Because I KNOW that I would drop a load in MY pants! Oy....
Anonymous said…
lol
thats a funny post!
Deb said…
Hurtling through the skies a bazillion miles above the surface of the Earth at a gazillion MPH while entrapped in that metal tube with who knows how many murderers, rapists, disease-carrying passengers is just all part of the fun of traveling. The whole In-The-Airport part is just as much fun.

Congrats on your move to FL - nice to see you posting all this good stuff again!

Popular posts from this blog

And The Winner Is...

I have some very exciting news. For the first time ever the Blog of Bex is giving out an award . Yes, I know. I can feel my heart pounding, too. I will call it the Bite My Ass Award (BMAA) and I'm sure it will be coveted. Now you might be wondering just who will be the lucky recipient. Could it be Diesel, the mastermind of Humor-Blogs and Mattress Police , who - for reasons unknown to me - revamped the scoring system and and reset my score to zero? Nope. This action has actually mysteriously seemed to work in my favor. I'm sure it's temporary. ANYWAY, on to the big news. I hereby give my BMAA to this guy: Handsome little fucker, isn't he? His name is James Jackson, IV and his friends call him Jay. I like to call him Fucktard because I believe that your name should say something about the kind of guy you are. And he's a total fucktard. What, you may wonder, did he do to generate such ire from me? Well I'm so glad you asked. He owns two boutiques in suburban At...

Pervy McPervert strikes again!

When I was a kid I used to make the occasional prank call. But then I turned 13 and decided that it was a fairly retarded way to spend ones time. I've also received a few "heavy breathing" calls in my day. My mom finally bought us a whistle and said that whenever "he" called that we were to blow the whistle as loud as we could into the phone. That worked although I do wish she had specified that before blowing the whistle I should take the receiver away from my head as my ear made this weird ringing noise for days afterward. But it got rid of the pervert. It's a new day, however, and perverts must be looking for new ways to annoy us. Twice today someone has texted a picture to me. I have no idea who he is or what the hell he wants. But he must think that I don't know that sometimes shirtless men squeeze their arms against their chest to give the appearance that they actually have biceps when, in fact, their arms really look like toothpicks that are broke...

Protesting at Funerals: A Look at the Deranged and Demented

I normally like to write about funny things. (At least they are things that I find funny.) They are usually attempts to be funny in a ha-ha kind of way, although sometimes I will throw in something that's funny in a weird way, just to shake things up. But what I want to write about now isn't funny at all. It is shocking and horrific. There was a girl from my home town who was murdered at Auburn University last week. Her name was Lauren Burk and she was 18. She went to our local high school and although I didn't know her many of my friends children did. She's being buried today. Her family is, naturally, heartbroken. It was a random, tragic and violent attack. That's really bad enough. My husband drove by the funeral home yesterday and noticed that there was a small army of Harley Davidson riders holding American flags. They appeared to be guarding the memorial service. It turns out that they were asked to be there to protect the family because a group called the We...