I’m not sure the male version of a stuartess, but stuart sounds funny. Maybe a stuarter? I ask what kind the peanuts are, sometimes they're just salted and sometimes they're honey roasted. I don't take the salted, but I always ask for extra honey roasted. I seem to catch him off guard. It’s either that he doesn't often get asked or he thought I too was a gay male until my voice gave it away when he realized, I’m just gay. It doesn't bother me, and it happens more than some think. I like it really because I think it changes peoples assumptions about other people. Not everyone has to follow a social norm and it took me a while to realize that, so now I pay attention to other people more than I used to. And their reactions.
Not even the moon is reflecting any more, it's above us now and all I see is my own reflection. It’s disheartening that while I try and look out, I'm forced to look back in. not my idea of a good time.
I begin to like this seat less.
The stuartess, the male one, is coming back to collect trash as the plane runs through a turbulent patch. I imagine the stuartess falling across someone’s lap and the people sitting stunned before they remember they should help him.
They always collect trash too soon if you ask me. I can't finish my drink and peanuts in the five minutes of allotted time, please come back later. Maybe I should write a request.
The plane turns and opens the window to the real world below that from here looks like a pile of Christmas lights waiting to be put away but long forgotten.
As we make our final descent, my ears plug and I wonder where my gum went.
I’ll have to call my girl when we touch the ground so I can hear her voice again.
I look out my window at the labyrinth of lights along the water.
This is my favorite seat on a plane.