Flight Attendant - Lando norris fanfic

O3 - New Beginnings

August 2024

It's funny how life has a way of surprising you when you least expect it. Just a few days ago, I was convinced I was about to lose my job, and now here I am, packing my bags for an entirely new chapter. Private jets. Rich and famous clients. A pay raise that still feels too good to be true. It's like stepping into another world, one I never imagined being a part of.

I spent the next few days in a weird mix of excitement and sheer panic. The overthinking was in full swing. What if I wasn't good enough? What if they expected something I couldn't deliver? What if, what if, what if? My brain was like a broken record, playing the same doubts over and over again. But deep down, I knew I couldn't pass this up. Juniper was right—I'd regret it if I did.

After accepting the offer, the company sent over a package with all the details. New uniform, new guidelines, even a bloody handbook on how to cater to high-end clients. Apparently, there's an art to serving champagne that I'd somehow missed in my years as a flight attendant. I mean, sure, I know how to pour a glass of bubbly, but this was next-level stuff—like the temperature of the glass, the angle of the pour, and don't even get me started on the presentation. They wanted perfection, and I wasn't about to let them down.

The night before my first flight, I could barely sleep. I kept tossing and turning, thinking about everything that could go wrong. Would I trip and spill a drink on some celebrity? Would I forget some crucial part of the service and make an idiot out of myself? By the time my alarm went off at 4:30 a.m., I felt like I'd run a marathon in my head. But there was no time for second-guessing now.

I got dressed in the new uniform they'd provided. It was different from my usual one—sleeker, more tailored, with a subtle hint of luxury. The kind of uniform that makes you stand a bit taller, walk with a bit more confidence. I checked myself in the mirror, adjusting the collar and smoothing out any wrinkles. "You've got this, Cordelia," I told myself, trying to ignore the butterflies doing somersaults in my stomach.

Arriving at the private terminal was a whole new experience. No crowded check-ins, no long lines of passengers. Just a sleek, modern lounge with a handful of people milling about. The clients hadn't arrived yet, so I had a bit of time to get familiar with the plane. And oh, what a plane it was. The interior was like something out of a magazine—plush leather seats, wood-paneled walls, and enough space to stretch out and relax. It was a far cry from the cramped commercial flights I was used to. This was luxury, pure and simple.

"Morning, Rory," a familiar voice called out. I turned to see Captain Edwards, the same one from my last commercial flight, walking toward me with a grin.

"Morning, Captain," I replied, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. It was nice to see a familiar face in all this newness.

"Looks like you've landed quite the gig," he said, glancing around the cabin. "Excited?"

"Nervous," I admitted with a half-smile. "But yeah, excited too."

"You'll do great," he assured me. "Just treat them like any other passengers, and you'll be fine. They're still people at the end of the day, even if they've got a few more zeros in their bank accounts."

"Right," I nodded, trying to let his words sink in. But it was hard to imagine these clients as just regular people when everything about this plane screamed otherwise.

We spent the next hour going over the details of the flight—timing, routes, any special requests from the clients. It was a short flight to Nice, nothing too complicated, but the stakes felt higher than ever. As the clock ticked closer to departure time, I felt the nerves creeping back in. I did a final check of the cabin, making sure everything was in perfect order. The champagne was chilling, the snacks were perfectly arranged, and the pillows were fluffed just right. I couldn't leave anything to chance.