Monday, October 25, 2004

Something is un peu "stinkie"

What flight attendant on a transatlantic flight FROM Paris to Newark insists on blaming everything stinky on two darling little babies? I was on a Continental flight last week which felt way more NJ than Paris in all ways. The EXTREMELY bitchy flight crew was obviously depressed to be so obviously Garden State, and decided to take it out on the rest of us. Every poor French person who dared ask a question in French was met with a hysterically nasty, "WHAT? I CAN'T UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU ARE SAYING!!!" One might think that on such a flight one or two of your passengers may actually BE French. But I digress. This same "Flight Attendant" (I render that description in quotes because I am still trying to figure out what she thought she was attending.) noticed two adorable small children in the bulkhead row of Coach, or as the French call it, Economique. She also noticed a very ripe, fetid and almost three-dimensional odor eminating from this same section. Rather than remember she was departing from the land of Cheese Eating Surrender Monkeys (God bless them all), she decided to pick on the sleeping babies, instead. Roaring at the two sets of parents that "One of these two babies REALLY needs to be changed!" the nasty stewardess (HA! I said it!) refused to be diverted from her assumption that the stink was baby poo. Had she looked ONE ROW behind the suspects (who were extremely well behaved throughout the flight in spite of the rotten service), she would have noticed aforementioned Monkey stuffing his bouche with frommage of the extremely stinky variety. Now as much as I love France and admire many things about the French, this particular person was certainly lacking in the valor department, as he repeatedly let the babies take the fall for the stench, even though the nice WASP-y lady seated next to him was driven out of her row by the fumes. Where did this Continental attendant think she was? It made me want to break open a durian and feast away.

That episode was followed by stone cold food. After hearing of its temperature, another, even ruder attendant said, "well we don't serve the food cold on purpose, you know!" What, sir, is your point? Exactly?

So the moral of the story is, feel sorry for fligh crews from Jersey. They are miserable bastards.
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