Tales of a high-altitude coffee and tea dispenser

by hiigaran

5: The Recline

I took a break from my stories, swallowing a few pretzels. "I haven't put you off or anything, have I?"

"Not really," Flitter shrugged, pausing to finish the rest of her drink. At some point between my first and second stories, the waitress returned and took her order, placing some green drink down in front of her. "I used to foalsit, so these sorts of things never really bothered me. From the sound of things, you seem to have to deal with similar messes, and foalsit adults on occasion."

"You have no idea..."

---

Of course, not everything about this job is negative. Or at the very least, not every negative event needs to have a negative outcome. You’ll find that in many situations where passengers behave as if they belong in day care centers, you can derive a great deal of satisfaction from toying with the unruly.

And no, I don’t mean spitting in somepony’s drink. That’s generally reserved exclusively for arrogant pilots who demand that their cappuccinos be made with five percent froth and three quarters of a packet of brown sugar, served at exactly sixty-eight degrees, and expect it to be done promptly in the middle of our busiest points during service. No, I mean more along the lines of resetting the IFE, or 'In-Flight Entertainment' system regularly for passengers who do not treat my crew with the respect they deserve.

But one particular event of great satisfaction came from a flight during my first few days as a senior, when we operated a night flight out of Ponyville to Manehattan. Service was completed, leaving the passengers to sleep and the crew in the aft galley to do what they do best: Eating anything and everything left untouched by passengers. One thing you'll learn about crew early on, either through observation or imitation, is that crew are voracious beasts with bottomless pits where their stomachs should be. If you ever need to get a general idea of how long a particular flight attendant has been in the industry, you need only take a look at her weight.

I appear to be one of the rare exceptions to that rule. I've consumed enough ice cream, cheese and teas with ten sugars to induce cardiac arrest in an ursa.

So between mouthfuls of varying cheeses, casseroles and chocolates, we would always ask the same generic questions to create some sort of conversation, despite knowing none of us actually cared about the answers. Questions like what city we were from, what we did before joining EAL, how long we have been flying, what and who we did on our layovers, and so on. As such, when the unusually quiet flight was interrupted by a soft ‘ding’ and a blue light from the call bell indicator above, I jumped up immediately to escape the monotony. Noting the seat number was 20B, I took a silver tray with a glass of water and headed out into the dim cabin, which I had set to be illuminated by starry pinpricks of light from the ceiling to simulate the night sky outside. As I approached, I could hear an argument taking place between the one who pressed the call bell, and the pony seated in front of her.

“May I help you, madam?” I asked the blue unicorn, interrupting the two.

“Yes you may,” the mare replied, a definite tone of superiority in her voice. “The Great and Powerful Trixie has suffered a great injustice at the hooves of this pony!” she scowled at the offender and crossed her hooves.

So it turns out that after hearing both sides of the argument, it all boiled down to the stallion in front reclining his seat, and the mare taking issue with, as she put it, “the violation of Trixie’s personal space.” Ignoring the peculiar third-pony usage of her name, I attempted to explain that the stallion had every right to recline his seat. He did pay for it, after all. If this was during the meal service, I could understand the issue, but when everypony is sleeping, that's another story. Well, everypony else had been asleep, until the exchange of some rather derogatory comments from both parties had roused the others from their slumbers.

Unsatisfied with my response, she demanded to be moved to the front row seats. As I knew economy class was completely booked, there was no way I could force other passengers to move seats, unless there was a safety issue. So, Miss Trixie did what any reasonable pony did, and mercilessly kicked the back of the stallion's seat with alternating hind hooves, offering me an ultimatum: If I could not find an economy class seat, I was to upgrade her to business class, or she would continue to assault the seat.

With the once-sleeping passengers around us now shooting us the death glare from beneath their eyeshades, I informed Trixie I will get back to her, and headed to the front of the aircraft, leaving the unicorn with a triumphant smirk on her face. Glancing around, I found a few empty seats, so I asked the senior in charge of business class if I could move one of my passengers into his cabin. After receiving the okay from him, which was really just a shrug and a nod while he downed a bowl of potato and leek soup, I returned to the unicorn and informed her that I found a solution to her reclining issue. Right as she began to rise from her seat, I stepped to the side, and informed the stallion in front that his business class seat was waiting for him.

"I—w-wha—?" Trixie's eyes widened, and stared up at me with her mouth agape, as if I had slapped her across the face. Wearing my typical 'welcome aboard' smile, I replied, "I hope I have solved your seating issue," pausing, remembering I still had the silver tray in my hoof. With an ever-widening grin, I extended my hoof. "Water?"

"Mate, if we were in a time of war, they'd give you a medal for that." the stallion chuckled as he followed me through the curtain dividing the two cabins, while I assisted him with his bags. Finding his seat and stowing his bags, I double-checked if he needed anything else then left, tucking the silver tray beneath my wing.

I then proceeded to reset the 20B IFE at half hour intervals for the remainder of the flight.

---

Eventually, the pegasus in front of me recovered from her giggling fit, wiping away a tear in her eye. "Oh come on, it wasn't that funny." I raised an eyebrow. I mean, it was amusing, but none of my crew reacted like this on the flight in question, after I explained what happened.

"It is, in a way," Flitter replied. "See, Trixie is sort of infamous where I'm from for a number of reasons, and it's just hilarious to see her get knocked down a peg."

"Ahh," I finished off another glass. "Well, I'll admit, it was nice to vent a little. It's a welcome change of pace for me, since I usually just ditch my crew and drink the night away most of the time. Unfortunately, I've got twelve hours before I need to report for duty, so I should probably turn in." I signaled the waitress for the bill.

"This was fun. I don't suppose you're visiting Ponyville any time soon?"

"Uhh...I think on the 6th next month."

"Great! If you're not busy, I'd love to hear more stories," Flitter yawned, reaching for a hoofful of bits. "I applied for the job a couple of days ago, and I'm waiting for the interview."

"Oh, nice. Maybe one day you'll be telling me stories of your own. Well sure, why not," I shrugged. I don't really have any friends in Ponyville to go out with anyway, and the city is a little too quiet for my tastes. Well, unless there's the off-chance it plays host to the occasional monster attack. Eyeing the mare, I interrupted her as she counted her bits. "Hey, don't bother. I've got this one," I wrote my room number and signature on the bill. "I get twenty-five percent off as crew, anyway."