And All You're Ever Going To Be Is Mean


I have always loved airports - before this job, and even now, after practically living in them much of the time.

Delays excite me.
Everyone is going somewhere.
Everyone has a story.
There's constant movement.
There are so many destinations.
It's like a tiny city inside a building.

The flurry of cars outside departures.

Ticketing and check-in.

Security (well, no one loves security).

The tram.

The concourse.

The shops and restaurants!

The announcements!

The boarding passes!

The jetway!

What I've just described is a loosely summarized description of a typical airport process of experience.

I tried to describe it in a positive and exciting way. That's why I used exclamations.


However, there are a lot of people that, instead of getting more excited through the sequence of events, start to slip down a sneaky thought spiral of hatred, crankiness and despair. Things like:

"No airline does it right."

"Security is a hassle! And a waste of time."

"Airport food is expensive, and gross."

"Gate agents are mean! I paid a lot of money for this!"


So, by the time they reach me - standing at the boarding door to smile and welcome them, they are experiencing what my sister and I like to call:

Total Disintegration of Personality.

This means that there is nothing I can say to make anything better. I am personally responsible for every unfortunate thing that has happened to them, and I run the company myself. There is nothing that can be offered or said for consolation. They are entitled to a minimum of a ten second tantrum.  I am required to stand there and continue smiling, in the midst of verbal assault.

I'm going to be honest, sometimes it's really hurtful. I am a care bear, after all.

But most of the time, it has helped me to not take things so personally and kind of laugh. Because we have all been completely ridiculous at some point in our lives.

(While deplaning)
Me: Thank you so much for flying with us. I am sorry again about the delay.
Crankosaurus: You should be. You are all incompetent.

Me: Sir, I am so sorry about having to check your bag.
Angry Beaver: I HATE THIS AIRLINE. (throws his bag violently to the ground)

(Inebriated girl in front of me looked at me and then turned to her boyfriend and exclaimed loudly)
Drunk Girl: Why do all stewardesses look the same? They're all fat and ugly.

I am confident that no one would ever be mad at me if I got to wear these uniforms.

Ah, customer service!

It's up in the air - it's here, it's there! Everywhere!

I love those little crab apples.