July 11th, 1989

July 11th, 1989

Night flight from JFK – MAN

Woke up with the sound of Christopher’s coffee maker gurgling and churning.

“Sorry,” he whispered, as I stepped into the miniscule kitchen. “I didn’t realize this thing was so loud.”

“It’s obviously not that loud,” I said, indicating towards Frankie, sound asleep on the couch with her blond locks plastered across her angelic looking face.

Christopher attempted to make me a cup of tea and I watched in horror (perhaps that’s an exaggeration) as he filled a mug with tap water and put it in the microwave. When the microwave beeped ready (not nearly hot enough) he dipped a teabag in the water and handed the mug to me.

“Do you have any milk?” I asked.

“I might have half and half,” he said, opening the fridge door.

I feigned a fake shudder and he cracked up laughing. “Yes?” he asked, holding up the carton.

“Oh, go on then,” I said in a cocky voice, rolling my eyes in mock distaste.

“Next time you’re in town, come over and show me how it’s done,” he said, with a cheeky smile. Then he leaned in and kissed me and just like last night, it was nice but I don’t really fancy him. I’m not sure if the feeling is mutual but I don’t think I want to kiss him again. I’d love to keep in touch with him because he’s such a lovely guy and we seem to get on great together, but in that department I don’t think we have chemistry.

“I’m sorry I have to go” he said, nodding his head towards Frankie, “but take your time leaving.” Then he laughed and said, “And be nice to my doorman on your way out.”

“We will. Thanks for everything,” I said, turning my head so his kiss landed on my cheek.

I found the Naked cd, by Talking Heads and blasted it to wake Frankie up. The first thing she said with only one eye open was; “That’s a lovely shirt darling. Really suits you.”

I made us a proper cup of tea, but had to use a pan to boil the water. Surely they must sell kettles in New York! The phone rang and I turned off the music while Frankie answered it. With her hand over the receiver she mouthed, “Robert. Lunch?”

I nodded my head yes, and listened as she cooed into the phone.

On our way out, we had a little chat with Michael, the very well built doorman, who offered to get us a cab.

“Actually, I think we’d rather walk.” Frankie looked at me. “Right?” she asked.

I quietly reminded her that one of us was still in the clothes “we” went out in last night!

Stepping out of a cab was a much more civilized way to arrive back at our hotel and walk straight into our Cabin Service Director.

“Oh, hello Malcolm,” Frankie chirped, with her mascara smeared half way down her face. The girl has no shame. Not that I can talk, I was still wearing the shirt (lovely, soft cotton, ahhh!) I slept in.

Malcolm took an exaggerated step back, and looked the pair of us up and down.

“I’ll see you two at pick up,” he sneered. “In four hours.”

I interpreted it as, “Use that time to pull yourselves back together.”

In my head, I was thinking, honestly Malcolm! Give us a break! We’re two girls in New York having the time of our lives.

Fortunately, Malcolm wasn’t around to witness us skipping out of the hotel half an hour later, on our way to meet Robert.

Over lunch, Frankie was much more quiet than usual and she was very pouty with Robert, a side of her I haven’t seen before. After being subjected to Robert’s rapid-fire way of talking and his treatment of the wait staff, I concluded that Christopher is definitely the nicer of the two of them.

Flight is totally chock-a-block tonight and my crew rest is already up. Shit, I got so carried away writing that I forgot to drink my Earl Grey and now it’s cold. Ugh! Back I go to the obnoxious passengers, all of who appear to have, as Robert said, in reference to his clients, “A stick up their ass.”

Or maybe I’m just exhausted.

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