Turbulence - (18+)

4.

GATE A3
SHAY

New York (JFK)
Present Day

I think I hate my life...
"Have a great day in New York City!" I smiled as the first class passengers walked past me and stepped off the plane. "Thank you so much for flying with Elite Airways! Enjoy the Big Apple!" "Hope you enjoyed flying with us today!" The other flight attendant onboard, Christina, joined me in the farewells. "We sure enjoyed having you!"

One of these days, I was actually going to believe the gleeful words that came out of my mouth at landing, but today was not that day. Even though all of the passengers on this flight were quite polite, today's trip was nothing more than a repeat of every flight I'd been assigned over the past year. It was a reminder that I wasn't a 'real' flight attendant yet, that I was still on 'reserve.' Still trying to figure out when the promises in the monthly employee magazine would come true for me.

Every third Sunday, like clockwork, that glossy "How We Fly" magazine arrived in my mailbox-taunting me with broken promises and pretty pictures, reminding me of all the reasons I'd first applied. It was the idea of traveling to places like London, Milan, and Tokyo within the same month. The high possibilities of traipsing across vineyards and countryside roads on my days off. And also, the slightly vain wish of walking through the airports in one of their famous blue uniform dresses and custom airline-issued Louboutin heels, looking just like the glamorous women in the commercials.

Alas, I missed the fine print. There was only a "chance" of flying to beautiful places night after night. The only "traipsing" occurred in the five steps from the airport shuttle van to the stopover hotel. And until I was off reserve status, I would continue to receive last minute, short trips while the flight attendants with seniority picked all the best routes first.
"Is it me, or is this the slowest group of passengers you've ever seen?" Christina muttered under her breath.

"They're definitely the slowest." I noticed that rows fifteen through thirty had yet to open their overhead bins.

I am definitely going to be late tonight...

"Have the schedulers finally allowed you to bid on lines or are you still on reserve, Shay?" she asked.

"Reserve."

"Really?" It's been a year since I last saw you and you're still on reserve?" She looked as if she didn't believe me. "Don't tell me they're still giving you that, 'Wait until we finish all of our mergers' excuse." I gave her a depressed look and she laughed.

"Sorry. If it makes you feel any better, at least you actually live in New York. You don't have to share a crash pad with a bunch of other reserve attendants that you don't know."
"I guess..." I said dryly, and she shot me a sympathetic smile.

We remained at the front of the plane for what felt like forever, keeping our voices cheery and light as the hockey team at the rear continued to move like molasses.

When the last player finally exited the plane, I grabbed my bag, said a quick goodbye to the pilot and Christina, and raced through the jet bridge. I had exactly twenty minutes to catch the next bus to Manhattan. Emerging into Terminal 7, I rushed past gate after gate, dodging hordes of travelers with every step. As I ran, the numerous restaurant signs, gift shop displays, and coffee stands all became a bright blur. The conversations between tourists, the arguments between gate agents, and the announcements from the speakers were all background noise. All I could hear was the sound of my heels clacking against the newly buffed floors.

My dress inched up my thighs as I neared the no re-entry zone, but I couldn't waste any time trying to pull it down. I continued running, bypassing the moving sidewalks until I made it to baggage claim.