nothing beats good conversation

Working on a cart with Danny on the flight home is again a joy. As the flight is a night sector, once we have wrapped up the meal service, we turn the lights off and let everyone sleep. Half the crew go off on a break, which thankfully includes Alex. They disappear to the crew-rest area and the others, like myself and Danny, are left on. This must be the night where all the stars are aligned in perfect symmetry as Carolyn is also off on the first break.

‘This is the easiest flight ever,’ I think to myself as I draw the galley curtains and take up a seat next to Danny. Apart from the occasional call-bell interruption, Danny and I chat for hours. It feels nice to talk to a man on an intellectual level, rather than a romantic one. Although most of my girlfriends are intelligent, all I can pretty much talk to them about is shopping, guys, shopping and shopping. That is probably of my doing.

The more I listen to Danny, the more attracted I am to him – not just physically, but emotionally.

I wish he had a twin brother.

I actually think about asking him if he did, but then think better of it.

I think Danny knows how much I admire him, but he is so cool about it. I would love to be able to bid for some trips with him, but that would be inappropriate. It is a bit of a shame that straight women and straight men struggle to maintain innocent relationships.

I have several girlfriends who have a gay guy as their best friend, but I don’t know of any girl who has a straight man as her best friend. One of my friends, Jackie, is best friends with an outrageous gay guy, Damien. I like Damien, but trouble and Damien go hand in hand. He is a funny man, but some people do take him the wrong way. Damien is actually going to be on my next trip, which should be interesting. It won’t be as much fun as working with Danny, but Damien’s caustic tongue often has the sting of a stand-up comedian.

That is why I like Danny so much – he is funny but not at the expense of others. Most people who fly are hypercritical. I know I am, and I wish I wasn’t so. I notice that Danny is only judgmental of those who are judgmental. He doesn’t gossip like most do in the galley. He talks about social issues, about places, about life, and I am enthralled by the conversations I have with him.

I usually wait for most flights to be over, but not this one. When we touchdown, I feel a sense of disappointment, for I know it will be a while before I get to see Danny again. A flight attendant’s job is indeed unique because you work with a group of people for a number of days but then you may not see some of them again for years. Some of them, you may never see again. Sometimes that is a good thing, I think as I say goodbye to Alex and Carolyn. Sometimes it is not, I think as I hug Danny.

One of the onboard rituals we go through, particularly at the end of longer trips, is to walk around the aircraft and thank each and every member of crew for that trip. Those we like, we generally kiss. Those we don’t, with them we shake hands. I shook hands with Alex and Carolyn. I know I hugged Danny for too long, but it saddens me that spending time with interesting people such as Danny is all too rare.

It is hard to explain, but I feel like I have just ended a relationship: there is a longing for that person’s company but also the realisation that they are not going to be there with you.

Get a grip, Danielle!

When we land and after we clear customs, we jump on a company bus that will take us back to our base, where our cars are parked. As everyone gets on the bus, in unison, the phones come out of pockets; then on, what was a quiet environment before turns into a churning conversational sea of hosties trying to speak over each other.

Many listen to the soothing voices of their loved ones, while I listen to my message-bank.

I am not too proud to admit that I have chosen the seat behind Danny. While I pretend to listen to my messages, I eavesdrop on his conversation with his wife. I can’t help but feel jealous of her.

I bet she is gorgeous.

I can tell that he is pleased to talk with her. I also come to the unfortunate realisation that the brilliant conversations he has shared with me for the past days are not exclusive to me.

When Danny hangs up, I replay my messages and listen more carefully to them. My first message is from Mary. She has broken up with Mike. Surprise, surprise.

The second message is also from Mary. She and Mike are back together again.

Then, there is a message from my mum, checking that I am feeling OK.

There’s another from Mary, telling me to disregard the first message.

There’s a message from my bank, politely reminding me that I have missed a credit card repayment.

Then, there’s yet another message from Mary. She and Mike have found an apartment and are moving in together.

I am shocked.

Moving in together? I hope their apartment is not on the top floor. Lord help them if it has a balcony.

When we arrive at our work base, most of the crew scatter quicker than a school of fish in barracuda-infested waters. Danny doesn’t. He takes the time to turn around to say goodbye, and before he leaves he gives me a little peck on the cheek.

As I drive home, I realise that every song on the radio is a love song. I am not in love with Danny, but I am sad because I am not in love with anyone. Even Mary has found someone.

My life has so many high points, but without someone to share those with, it can be very lonely. I walk onto my apartment, and it just doesn’t feel as inviting as it normally is.

Perhaps I am lonelier than I thought I was. Perhaps I am feeling so melancholic because I was sick only a few days ago. Perhaps it is because I am premenstrual.

My stomach is tied in knots. If I had some sort of menstrual regularity, then I should be due in three or four days. With jetlag, sickness, pre-menstrual tension, my actual period, and post-menstrual tension coming one after the other each month, the window of normality in my life can be measured not in days but only in minutes.