Scary Confessions of an Ex-flight Attendant

Actual click-bait headline May 25, 2016

I used to work charters to Las Vegas.
They would lose poker chips in the blankets.

Then I moved up to international.
I can shout, “Crash!” in five languages.

The restrooms near the cockpit smelled greasy.
First Class drank the same cran-prune juice as Coach.

Never eat the snacks from Business Class.
Pretzel bags get fingered by too many managers!

In Economy, I raised the arm rests.
I wore latex gloves—you know—ebola.

Then a candidate asked me for more Sprite.
When he won, I transferred to DC.

I opened stale peanuts on Air Force One.
When the hijackers boarded, I offered tea.

Self-Sufficiency

It is a myth, of course.
When the light changes, you see the
Threads that hold up these marionette arms.
He can drink a glass of water while
My lips move, but the voice is a
Laughable distortion of his own.
His hand is up my back, and yet
All you see is the industrial light
And magic of it. You are deceived.
I am dust, and to dust I will return.
I am going to say some things now.
They are not mine. I am a front
For something more pervasive.
Don’t buy this book, not unless you
Are part of the resistance. You
Will need it to get in the
Meeting. Carry it under your
Right arm. Cough twice. Knock.
Say the passwords like an incantation:
“I did this on my own.”