October 22nd, 1989
Night flight from MBJ – LGW, as a passenger
Presently sitting in Club World, on our way home to London. Hoping to finish “Eden Close,” by Anita Shreve, if Frankie ever stops talking. It’s interesting being on “the other side,” observing the crew in the way passengers probably see us when we’re working.
“Gosh, isn’t this a treat,” Frankie gushed when we took our seats; me in the window, Frankie on the aisle.
“It’s not too shabby.”
“And to think we’re getting paid for this.”
“I know, next time I complain about the trolley dolly life, be sure to smack me.”
Frankie laughed and gestured for me to, “come closer.” She whispered. “Do you think we’ll be allowed to have a drink?”
“I don’t see why not, it’s not like we’re in uniform, although technically I suppose we’re still working?”
“Let’s go with the first thing you said,” she grinned.
I hope at some point, I get another trip to MBJ, purely because all we got to see was the beach. I can’t imagine booking a holiday to sit around on the beach for an entire week. Don’t get me wrong, I love swimming in the warm water, reading and collecting shells, but the idea of sunbathing and lounging for more than a day or so, I find hugely unappealing.
“Do you think Ben might be waiting for you at Gatwick?”
“No, I don’t think so at all. He didn’t offer to pick me up so I’ll be going home on the train.”
“Maybe he’ll surprise you,” she said, in her ever hopeful tone.
I doubt it.