Petty Things Flight Attendants Will Never Admit to (But I Will)
This is your reminder that your flight attendant controls your snacks, your drinks, and — occasionally — your experience.
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There is a version of flight attendant professionalism that exists in the training manuals. And then there is the version that exists in real life. Real life will train you in ways that the well-intended official training could never imagine was possible, or even necessary. That’s the main reason my motto became “Everything is fine, until people.”
In training, we set the intention to be poised and prepared for any event, no matter what it turns out to be. We intend to be gracious. We intend to show up like it’s still the heyday of air travel. We intend to be the calm, capable presence at 35,000 feet, ensuring safety while delivering beverages with a perfect smile and a perfectly crisp napkin.
In real life? We are human beings in a metal tube with 150–300 other human beings, some of whom are delightful, and some of whom…are testing the outer limits of our patience. Sometimes resulting what I like to call quiet, contained pettiness. Reddit would call it r/pettyrevenge.
And listen. I am not proud of these moments.
But I am also not not proud of them.
Story #1: The Influencers Who Lost Their Party Privileges
This one was on my day off, which somehow makes it worse. I was non-revving with my partner, which means I am just a regular passenger (except my ticket was free). Also, except I am absolutely not a regular passenger because I cannot turn off the part of my brain that is clocking everything happening around me.
We are headed to CUN* and are seated across the aisle from two women in their early twenties. They are in seats A and B, while we were in D and E. And from the moment we boarded, it was clear that they had brought a very specific energy onto that aircraft.
You know these people: every public action is an audition for Bravo. Loud. Performative. Every sentence designed to be overheard. Lots of “oh emmmmm geeeee” and exaggerated reactions and narrating their own lives like they were filming a reality show that, unfortunately, the rest of us had not consented to participate in.
And listen: I am not the fun police. I am not here to shut down joy. If you want to laugh and have a good time, I genuinely love that for you. Giggle it up. I love to have a good time, too. But there is a volume threshold in shared spaces. I think we can all agree when we’re flying commercial airlines, you need to share the air.
These ladies blew past any reasonable person’s tolerance levels about ten minutes into boarding. It escalated over the boarding process and through takeoff. It got to the shrieking, scream-laughing stage about 45 minutes into the 5 hour flight.
So I leaned forward, caught one of their eyes, smiled and waved a friendly hand. In the calmest, most neutral tone I could manage I said, “Hey, would you girls mind bringing it down just a notch?” I gave the international hand signs for ‘take it down a bit’ like i’m dialing a volume knob. No attitude. No edge. No attempt to embarrass them. Just a polite, adult request that they take a second to recalibrate.
Which they did not appreciate. Because immediately, I hear, not even quietly, “This bitch is telling us to shut up,” followed by a full recap of the interaction to the person who was also witness to the exchange, who is still sitting 11 inches from their face.
Over.
And over.
And over again.
At this point, I am still behaving. I am still minding my business. I am still choosing peace. Until the beverage service. The flight attendant comes by, and the girls order beers. Interesting. Because I had seen them at the gate. And they were not starting from zero.
So when the flight attendant turned to me and asked what I wanted, I leaned in just slightly and said, very calmly, “Hey, just a heads up — I’m a flight attendant with Delta, and I saw those two girls having quite a bit to drink at the gate. I just want to make sure we’re not over-serving.”
And that was that. No more drinks for the girls for the rest of the flight. Not a dramatic consequence. Just a quiet inconvenience that would slightly dampen their vibe for the rest of the flight.
And I sat back in my seat like the pettiest version of myself, fully aware of what I had just done. Was it necessary? Debatable. Did it feel incredibly satisfying, as if I had single-handedly brought slightly more balance to the universe?
Absolutely. Almost as satisfying as the vodka club sodas I drank the rest of the way.
Story #2: There Is a Reason Everyone Hates the Word ‘Moist’
One time (out of many), I was the lead flight attendant on a rotation. I was working First Class on one leg of the trip: a JFK to LAX flight, which, if you know, you know. That route has a very specific personality.
Everyone on that plane believes they are either someone important, adjacent to someone important, or on the brink of becoming someone important. There are just enough actual celebrities sprinkled in to keep everyone else feeling justified in their self-importance.
I’ve met a few real celebrities on this and other flights, and while the levels of celebrity vary, I am not a celebrity fangirl. There are some flight attendants who collected autographs, like Thomas, who was obsessed with Loretta Lynn and claimed he could breast-feed his cats.
I don’t take pictures or ask for autographs, because that’s not my jam and let’s be for real: they are just people and nobody wants to be accosted in flight or, frankly, talked to within a 20-mile radius of an airport.
In fact, the only famous person I’ve actually been star-struck by was Betty White, but that’s a story for another time.
Generally, I roll with the people and the flight. I believe every single flight has a chance to be an awesome experience. I really do. I also believe in matching energy. Some of the passengers want a little extra sparkle (or spice)? A little extra attention? Fine. Within reason, I will absolutely meet them there.
But this woman in 2B?
Ooooh she came in hot with the energy and attitude. Not loud and overt. Just that non-verbal rudeness that somehow gets under your skin more than words would. You know what I’m talking about: they entered the plane as if already looking down her nose at it. The huffy little exhale when I asked her to turn her phone off. The subtle eye roll when I offered to hang her coat.
The shitty way she said “Um, I’ll keep the scarf,” like I had just suggested something deeply inappropriate instead of trying to do my job. Bitch, come onnn. It’s winter, you’re in first class, you know I am going to offer to take your coat. (I should be grateful she wasn’t shoving it in my face the way some of the regulars would try to do.)
Meanwhile, the rest of the cabin is normal. Reasonably pleasant, even. The guy across the aisle actually caught my eye at one point after one of her more dramatic sighs and gave me that universal look of, is she serious right now?
Sir, thank you. I appreciate the sympathy, and I’m glad that it’s not just me that noticed. At this point, I shift into Kill Them With Kindness mode on principle. I remain professional (of course I do). Service continues. Smiles are delivered. Safety is maintained. Flight takes off.
Then we start beverage service.
Okay, slight aside here to explain a couple things: service was a little different on the transcontinental flights between JFK airport and LAX or SFO. At some point in my career they updated some of the 757s and 737s to have 16 lie-flat seats in business, not just slightly-bigger-slightly-more-comfortable seats. The meals were also a more elevated experience, shifting closer to that of business class to LHR from JFK. It requires two flight attendants to deliver the first round of drinks and then meals, then the second flight attendant peels off to assist in the main cabin.
The first round of drinks comes with warmed mixed nuts. We place a napkin, and nuts, take the drink order, deliver the drinks, then place napkins and nuts for the next set of two seats. It’s meant to be intimate and feel like an elevated level of service. Lots of folks would do a whole row across at a time, but I liked to follow the correct flow of service. Then we go through and deliver the appetizer, which came on the meal service tray along with the salad, bread and butter, utensils, etc. The main dish was brought out and placed on the tray, so that everything could be cleared at the same time.
Now, if you’ve never thought about napkins on a plane before, let me ruin that for you in the best way: most of the flight attendants care about them. A crisp, dry napkin is part of the experience. It’s small, but it matters.
As an autistic person, the thought of touching a moist napkin being offered makes me gag. Like, what’s the wetness from? Yuck.
Sometimes, in the process of scooping ice, one of those napkins gets just a little…damp. It wouldn’t kill you to use it. It’s not soaking wet. It’s not even technically unusable. Just slightly compromised in a displeasing way.
And as I assembled the drink for 2B, I made a choice. She got the damp napkin.
Not a crisp one. Not the fresh, perfectly folded, dry one that was mere inches away. The one that had just enough moisture in it to feel off. Just enough to register, subconsciously, that something was not quite right.
I set it down with the same pleasant smile I had given every other passenger. And I moved on.
To some, this is meaningless. But it felt diabolically petty, and I promise you I felt better for the rest of that flight. She never said anything, but I want to believe she knew why she got the moist napkin.
She’s lucky it was just a damp napkin.
I won’t even get into how I learned that stirring a Diet Coke with a finger that just swiped a little grease from your nose will make the foam settle faster.
Final Thoughts from Your Friendly Neighborhood Flight Attendant
Here’s the thing: You will never see this information in a training manual. No one is teaching “micro-petty retaliation strategies” in Atlanta (one could argue that they should, but again, there’s a reason I’m an ex-flight attendant).
But when you spend enough time in the air, dealing with the full spectrum of human behavior, you start to get creative. 99% of the time, we choose kindness and patience. We choose to be the calm, professional version of ourselves that you want taking care of you in the air.
But every once in a while, if you are loud enough, rude enough, or just committed enough to being a problem…You might not get the beer.
Or the good napkin.
*Airport Codes:
- JFK — John F. Kennedy International Airport (Queens, New York, NY)
- LAX — Los Angeles International Airport (Los Angeles, CA)
- SFO — San Fransisco International Airport (San Fransisco, CA)
- LHR — Heathrow Airport (London, England)
- CUN — Cancun International Airport (Quintana Roo, Mexico)
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