Terror in the Skies

An experience last night left Sheena shaken and dreading a return to the airport. No... not an errant lipgloss that crossed secure lines. Not even a pack of matches that slipped under the radar. Nope. What has rattled Sheena's nerves was an encounter last night at the hotel bar.

Sitting with one of her coven, Sheena was deeply engrossed in conversation. Unintended eye contact was made with a tall blonde man who entered the cocktail lounge. The unfortunate lapse of concentration was misinterpreted as an invitation to come sit over with the ladies.

As buddy passed by our tall chairs, he bumped Sheena's with his abdomen. I believe intentionally. "Oops! Guess my gut got in the way", he giggled, somewhat floridly.

He proceded to sit down and when I turned to ensure that my back was facing him fully, indicating that no conversation was gonna happen, he turned his attention to the bartender.

Few minutes later it became apparent that the draught-pourer had become disenchanted with his new loud best friend and found busy work on the other side of the bar.

And then our buddy spotted some other chicks at the other side of the room. Yes. The Other Side Of The Room. He seemed to notice that one of them looked sort of familiar or that they were wearing something that tipped off their occupation. You see, buddy was an airline pilot, and they were flight attendants.

Buddy had already spent the afternoon quaffing a few at the peeler bar down the block and was looking for a little r & r. (Oh, did Sheena mention that all of this happened at 6pm on a Tuesday?) He yelled out his name, rank and serial number. He shouted out the name, rank and serial number of his best friend, also a pilot. Who was dating a flight attendant. Did they know her. How he was a "new hire". He used that phrase repeatedly. Almost as though perhaps some older and wiser pilot had used that phrase repeatedly on him in the recent past. He just got on board effective May 1.

The flight attendants - from a different but closely affliated airline had been around a little longer and made polite conversation with Buddy, egging him on discreetly. From The Other Side Of The Room.

My face was less than 12" from my wining companion's face and I could not hear a single word she said when buddy was in full bore bluster. We had to get up and move across the room. The bartender nodded knowingly.

Now, Sheena is pretty sure that the FAA has an '8 hour rule' in effect for commercial pilots. I'm kind of tempted to head over to the airline's web site and check out their departure schedules.

But I'm scared shitless to do so.