About the only pickup line I knew when I was single (which wasn’t very long) was “hey, baby, do fries come with that shake?” when a girl passed. I got one of two reactions: either she’d start walking faster or she’d give me the finger. Sometimes both. I’m glad I got married early, because otherwise I’d still be single.
Coffee, Tea, Or Me? seems to be a particularly popular book title, particularly those of the “cheap, trashy romance” genre. The original book was a memoir written by two stewardesses (as they were called in days of old) named Trudy Baker and Rachel Jones. I never read it, nor did I see the 1973 movie of the same name that starred the lovely Karen Valentine as a stewardess who had husbands in New York and London and had nothing to do with the book. The movie was a remake of The Captain’s Paradise from 1953 that starred Alec Guinness. One of the special guest women was none other than Yvonne DeCarlo. Imagine that: Obi-Wan Kenobi and Lily Munster in the same movie.
Nowadays, we call stewardesses flight attendants, which gives them more of an air of professionalism, more in line with what they’re prepared for with all the training they go through. I flew a lot in my days, and there are three in particular I remember. One was a Delta flight attendant who flew back to Atlanta with me from New York who, it turns out, lived near me, and we had a nice conversation before she had to get back to work. Then there was one on Air France going from Singapore to Paris that was very efficient and professional, but otherwise charming and solicitous with all her passengers. Flight attendants on international flights are generally the more experienced ones, having earned the privilege after years of milk runs between places like Monroe, Louisiana and Sioux City, Iowa (whose airport code is, no kidding, SUX).
The third I remember was a flight attendant on TWA, whose years as an international carrier were practically behind them and they were mostly doing milk runs around the midsection of the country. I was in an aisle seat close to the front of the coach section, and at the appropriate time they began “beverage service” (“here’s your peanuts, here’s your drink, now shut up”). One of the flight attendants, who was working quickly as this was a short flight, grabbed a couple of plastic cups and one managed to sail out of her hand and hit me on the back of the head. She apologized, and I just waved her off. It was no big deal. Had it been Waterford crystal, we’d have something to talk about, but plastic cups?
Anyway, the next day I was on the return flight, sitting in the same seat, and the same two flight attendants were working the flight. They come out with the beverage cart, and the same flight attendant comes to me and asked if I’d like anything to drink. “Why don’t you just throw a cup at me like you did yesterday?” The two of us had a good laugh, and I got extra peanuts…
Stream of Consciousness Saturday is brought to you each week by Linda Hill and this station. Now a word about Phillips’ Milk of Magnesia. You’ll feel better with Phillips’!
I have an aunt and uncle named Raymond and Maureen.