Sex after service

Jayde Atchison (she/her) // Opinions Editor 


When I got the call that I was going to be a flight attendant, my friends who worked at the airport told me that I was going to “get a lot of action” once I started flying. As a single girl, I like flirty banter as much as the next person but I never wanted to build a reputation at work, and generally tended to shy away from workplace relationships. Though I may not want to create my own work scandals, I do want to hear the gossip that others are willing to share. 

Working for an airline means there is no shortage of drama to hear about—and I feel it is my duty to pass the stories on so they may show others what the world of aviation looks like after all the passengers have walked away. Sex is the inevitable outcome when you place a group of co-eds in a metal tube for hours at a time. Then to spend a night or two together in the same hotel, it seems to be inevitable. 

The narrative that I was constantly fed before flying was that there would be horny pilots that would be trying to get lucky on layovers. Married or not, it would make no difference—they were going to try to get away with more than flirting. 

If you’re lucky enough to have a social crew that you mesh with, crew dinners are a common occurrence. If you’re really lucky, the captain will offer to spot the bill for everyone at the table. The drinks are flowing until last call and vibes are misinterpreted (or rightly felt in some cases), and there is a knock on your hotel door not long after everyone has said their goodnights. A peek through the peephole reveals a member of the crew swaying back and forth hoping to be let in for some more fun. 

Thankfully, my beauty sleep has yet to be disturbed by anything other than my own anxiety, but I have had a few jumpseat discomforts along the way. One flight attendant that I worked alongside struggled with women and would stare a bit too long, sit a bit too close and, in what can only be described as a nasally voice, repeatedly asked me “what my type of man was” and what I looked for in a partner, sexually. “Not you” was what I almost blurted out, but I wanted to limit my bitchiness to off the clock hours. 

Shutting down the nerdy coworker wasn’t hard, and once I stated I wasn’t interested in him he was polite enough to leave me alone. However, when I was on a layover in Mexico, trying to tan near the ocean, I was introduced to a pilot I would be working with the next day and he would not leave me alone. While I was limiting myself to  two margaritas, this man, who was older than my parents, was downing 750ml of vodka as if it were water. Apparently it is a crime to wear a bikini on the beach because he kept insisting on giving me oral sex for he could “make me the happiest woman in the world.” He repeated that I was asking for attention in a “bathing suit like that.” 

When I rejected his disgusting bravado for the final time, he threw a temper tantrum in front of the whole crew and ran into the ocean to make a scene. 

While this captain ended up embarrassing himself because I was able to say no, many young, impressionable flight attendants are not always that lucky. There is a fine line between risky and risque and many people aren’t comfortable making that distinction. For now, the only scandals I am willing to take part in are accepting notes from cute passengers offering their number in a respectful manner. The rest is just hearsay I learn in the jumpseat before take-off. 

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