It was midnight New York time. The triple 7 had been in the air about 2 and 1/2 hours on its way to Heathrow. The flight attendants lounged in the galley reveling in the quiet plane and the chance to shoot the breeze.
"Did you see that article about flight attendants in the New York Times?" Brittany asked no one in particular.
Pam responded: "You mean that one about the New York-Amsterdam flight where the passenger got pissed when the FA wouldn't serve him another whiskey, kicked her in the leg and finally urinated on her jump seat to get her attention? Yeah, Jesus, what's next?"
"What's next is we get laid off," said Bryan. "Almost 25% of all US flight attendants have been laid off since 9/11? We could be next if this frigging airline ever gets out of bankruptcy. Hell, they've got to cut costs more to keep us competitive with Southwest, and startups like Jet Blue."
At this point the passenger call button for seat 26B rang. Brittany walked forward through the darkened plane.
"Can I help you?"
The white-haired woman on the aisle grabbed Brittany's arm. The passenger in the window seat looked to be sound asleep.
"Dearie, I'm sorry to bother you but these folks in front of me..." Here she pulled Brittany closer and whispered "They're just carrying on, and it's keeping me awake."
Brittany glanced ahead to row 25. The seats were covered by a blanket from which emerged giggles and kissing sounds. Brittany sighed. Lovebirds could be such a nuisance.