Flight Attendant - Lando norris fanfic

O1 - Turbulence

July 2024

I was about to board my last flight of the month, and exhaustion weighed heavily on me. The thought of three whole days without the stress of flying was a beacon of light in my otherwise taxing routine. The flight was from Heathrow (London) to Corfu (Greece). It was July, and with 250 passengers likely heading off for summer vacations, they'd be primed to spend money on the plane. Good news for everyone on the crew.

The terminal was bustling with the usual mix of hurried travelers and families eager for their holidays. I dragged my small carry-on behind me, relieved that packing for a one-night stay was a breeze. A pair of pajamas and a change of clothes were all I needed—simple, straightforward. As I made my way to the gate, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement at the prospect of a brief respite from the grind.

"Good morning, everyone," I greeted my familiar crew—Natalie, Eddie, and Juniper. Captain Edwards and Graham, the copilot, would be flying this leg. I forced a cheerful smile despite my fatigue. The plane was a narrow-body jet, and I walked to the rear to stow my bag in one of the overhead compartments. The cabin was already starting to fill up with passengers, their chatter and laughter blending into a white noise that I barely noticed.

As I organized my things, Natalie approached me. She was holding a clipboard with the day's itinerary, her brow furrowed in that way she had when she was about to ask something.

"Dilly, do you mind not doing business today?" Natalie's voice was tentative, almost apologetic.

I paused mid-motion, irritation bubbling up despite my best efforts to stay calm. I hated last-minute changes—why couldn't everyone stick to the plan? Whats the fucking point of planning?

"Is everything alright?" I asked, my voice measured but edged with annoyance. I was already mentally calculating how this would affect my earnings.

"I need the extra money," she said, her eyes pleading.

I tried to suppress a sigh, my frustration evident in the tightness of my jaw. "Sure, that's fine," I said, turning away so I could roll my eyes discreetly.

The flight itself was a whirlwind of activity. The cabin was filled with the kind of energy you'd expect from a vacation crowd—excited families, sun-seeking singles, and a few overworked business travelers who barely acknowledged me beyond their initial requests. Some passengers were particularly demanding, calling for me every ten minutes with an endless stream of questions and complaints. I maintained my professional facade, flashing a wide, accommodating smile, even though inside, I fantasized about punching a few of them—twice, if possible.

To make matters worse, a baby began to wail persistently from the back of the plane. The sound was piercing, cutting through the ambient noise and making it difficult for anyone to relax. I could see the exhausted mother trying to soothe the child, her frustration palpable.

Steeling myself, I approached the mother with a kind smile. "Would you like me to hold him for a bit?" I offered, trying to ease the situation. The mother looked up, her face a mix of relief and gratitude. I took the crying toddler gently in my arms, feeling the tiny body wriggling and the dampness of his tears. Despite my weariness, I rocked him gently, attempting to comfort him. It was a small act, but it made a noticeable difference, and I felt a fleeting sense of satisfaction.

The landing was straightforward, the approach to Corfu smooth and uneventful. As the wheels touched down, a collective sigh of relief seemed to ripple through the cabin. We disembarked efficiently, and as soon as the last passenger had stepped off the plane, I was ready to head to my hotel for a much-needed shower.

Corfu greeted me with its characteristic warmth and humidity. By the time I checked into my hotel, I was already drenched in sweat. The air conditioning in the lobby was a welcome relief, but it did little to quell the oppressive heat outside.

Once in my room, I wasted no time in stripping off my clothes and stepping into the shower. The cool water was a blissful respite, washing away the grime and fatigue of the day. Afterward, feeling clean and refreshed, I sank onto the edge of the bed and decided to check my corporate email to start planning for the next month.

Among the routine communications and newsletters, one email stood out. It was from corporate and had the subject line:

Monday. 09:00H meeting with Cordelia. Next steps.

A cold shiver ran down my spine as I read the subject line. "What the fucking hell?" I muttered aloud, staring at the screen in disbelief. A first thing meeting on Monday? That couldn't be good. My mind raced with unsettling thoughts—were they planning to fire me?

A knot tightened in my throat, making it difficult to swallow. I could feel the rising panic, a wave of anxiety crashing over me. My chest tightened, constricting with each breath. The room seemed to close in around me, and the once-familiar surroundings now felt alien and oppressive. My heart pounded furiously, each beat reverberating like a drum in my ears.

Dizziness struck, and I felt the room spin around me. I clutched the edge of the bed for support, trying to steady myself. Breathing became an effort, each inhalation feeling shallow and insufficient. My hands began to tremble uncontrollably, and a cold sweat broke out across my forehead and back. The fear of losing my job consumed my thoughts, every conceivable scenario playing out in my mind, fueling the panic.

I tried to sit down, but the waves of anxiety made it hard to stay grounded. My vision blurred, and tears welled up in my eyes as I fought to regain control. My breaths came in short, ragged gasps, and the seconds ticked by with excruciating slowness. I was trapped in a cycle of panic, my rational mind struggling to break through the fog of fear. The world felt like it was collapsing in on itself, and I was helpless to stop it.

I struggled to focus on anything other than the pounding in my chest and the suffocating tightness in my throat. The email, once a mere notification, now felt like a harbinger of doom. My thoughts were a chaotic mess of worst-case scenarios, each one more frightening than the last.

It took what felt like an eternity to calm down enough to think clearly. I focused on my breathing, trying to slow it down and regain some semblance of control. I reminded myself that panic attacks, as overwhelming as they are, are temporary. With each deep breath, I tried to ground myself in the present, pushing away the intrusive thoughts and focusing on the here and now.