Known Crewmember

Hi, my name is...

      If one more person bumps me with their rollerboard I'm going to beat them to death with it. Usually people respect the uniform and move out of my way but every once in a while I get people like her. She storms pass me, her overly expensive rollerboard rolling behind her, gold script on the top of it catches the light.

      Margaret.

     Lucky for you I don't have the time. My report time is in 20 minutes and that wouldn't be nearly enough time to do cleanup. We go our separate ways when we reach TSA. She gets in line just like all the others and wait to be herded through the screenings like all the other sheep signing away their rights for a chance to use our services. I lose sight of her as I pass the sign.

     It's calm blue and white lettering giving a familiar feeling. Known Crewmember.

      The TSA agent sitting behind the laptop on top of the little black table hands a pilot back his documentation and wishes him a good day. The pilot nods at me before disappearing through the doorway into the terminal.

      "Hey Ralph, how's it going?" I ask the TSA agent as I hand him my crew badge and driver's license. I hold my known crewmember badge to the scanner as he waits for my information to pop up on his computer.

        "It's going. Pretty busy as usual, Nora. Headed anywhere fun tonight?" He asks as he looks over the documents and then at me.

        "23 hour layover in Aruba then I'm off for a while. Thinking about running away and joining the circus. You?" I ask. He chuckles, handing me back my stuff.

         "Alright, you're good. Enjoy Aruba. And if you decide to join the circus see if you can bring me some of those candy apples. Haven't had one of those since I was a kid," He says.

         "If I join the circus, I'll see what I can do. Have a good night Ralph," I say before walking through the doorway and into the terminal. I've learned to ignore the stares, random sets of eyes I'd like to pluck out of their eye sockets for staring don't bother me as much anymore. People in airports are an odd bunch in general. It's like they check their common sense along with their checked luggage.

        I look over my shoulder and notice one of my zipper compartments is open. Standing to the side, I reach down and zip it closed. I can feel eyes on me as I stand back up to full height. People can be so paranoid sometimes. As if I could really do much damage with a weapon in this airport before security or military tackled me or possibly put a bullet in me for my troubles. I have my vices but I'm not suicidal.

       I scan my badge across the keypad and let myself into the crew lounge. It's a bit of a hike down the stairs. Apparently the elevator is broken.

      Just my luck.

      "Do I really need to go down there?"

     "Hell no. Save yourself the trouble. They aren't handing out any food or free stuff today. Just the usual, a few pilots and flight attendants napping or watching the football game on tv."

       I smile at the man coming up the stairs out of breath. His bags dragging behind him. His name on his wings catch the light. David.

      "Yeah, I really only have about 15 minutes before I'm supposed to be at my gate anyway," I say.

        "Yeah, it's not worth it. You'll spend 5 of that just getting down the flights of stairs. Use that time to get you a drink or something. You wouldn't happen to be headed to Aruba too would you?" He says as we both walk towards the door I just came in through.