Being a flight attendant isn’t just a job; it’s a masterclass in adaptability, behavioral psychology, poise, and self-discovery. You learn things at 35,000 feet you’d never learn in any office environment. You see people at their best, their worst, and their most vulnerable. You learn how to lead, how to survive, and how to let go. Here are some lessons I learned as a flight attendant that changed me forever.
People Are Wild, And Not in a Good Way
No one warned you that you’ll be disappointed in humanity. Repeatedly.
People get dressed in the dark and call it “travel chic.” Hot pants and a crop top on a 5-hour flight? We see you, sis. You’re sitting on your skin.
People are gross and they do not care that you’re watching.
I have seen everything, heard everything, and smelled things I wish I could forget. (Miscarriage convos, adult diaper changes, IRL Tinder matching mid-flight…) We listen and we don’t judge.
Passengers will poke, grab, snap, or slap at you to get your attention. Because boundaries die at 35,000 feet.
People take turbulence personally. As if you caused it.
If there’s an open seat next to a good looking passenger, someone will crawl over a row of humans like a raccoon to shoot their shot. Even if they’re old enough to be her dad and their game is sponsored by divorce.
People will shove their carry-on in the one spot guaranteed to screw up deplaning for everyone else. Every flight, every time.
On very specific routes, trash appears mid-flight like a sorcery trick. Where were you hiding that full-size pizza box? And that Costco-size Chick-fil-A bag and drink carrier? If you know, you know.
Cabin Etiquette? Never Heard of it
Twist and pull. That’s how lavatory doors work. Why are we still doing tutorials on this in 2025?
And no, the lav door doesn’t magically shut itself. Close it behind you. We’re eating inches away.
Don’t shove paper towels down the toilet. The pipes can’t handle it and neither can your flight crew.
We will absolutely judge you if you put six sugars in that coffee. Especially at 4:00 AM. What demon are you summoning?
The coffee takes a minute because it’s brewed, not conjured. Also, it’s lava. Patience, Grasshopper.
You’d be amazed how many people think the sink is the trash.
Or use seatback pockets for diapers. Let that sink in.
Passengers will eat food off the tray table without wiping it. Natural selection.
The people who are nicest to us? They’re often flying standby, non-reving or flying private. Think about that.
You clapping when we land does not help. It just lets everyone know you’re not from here.
We remember the nice passengers. And we remember the jerks.
Being a frequent flyer doesn’t mean you’re entitled to anything. Except the same mini pretzels everyone else gets.
Our Job? Basically Everything
On any given flight, we’re a sommelier, therapist, nanny, janitor, first responder, and stand-up comedian.
Some days we’re also bodyguards, matchmakers, and complaint punchbags.
We can serve 12 passengers a 3 course meal in 30 minutes while reading their mind and lighting a candle with our soul.
Medical emergencies are not your in-flight entertainment. Respect the moment. Don’t ask us what happened. We’re not TMZ.
Some people bring chaos. Others bring calm. You know which one you are.
Passengers think they’re the only ones with problems. Sir, we haven’t eaten since 3 a.m. and our Spanx are cutting off circulation.
If you see us “eating lunch,” no you don’t. We’re listening, judging, and surviving.
Economy Class Entitlement
Emergency Exit row seats are not up for debate. We decide. No, we don’t need a volunteer. We’d actually prefer it to stay empty.
That back row empty? That’s our crew lounge. Respect it. Worship it. Stay out of it unless you’re invited.
You’ve been hit with a 200-lb. cart. You’ve been warned. I told you to tuck in. Your Oscar-worthy performance after getting lightly tapped is noted.
“Can I sit anywhere I want?” No. This is not Southwest, and you’re not special.
People lie about medical conditions for upgrades. We know. You’re not the first person to fake a peanut allergy for extra legroom.
There’s always someone “too cool” for rules… until they get escorted off the plane.
Just put your seatbelt on. I don’t care how often you fly.
Don’t ask what kind of plane we’re on. You won’t understand, I promise.
Someone will always use the bathroom during boarding, taxi, and turbulence. Every. Single. Time. We warn you but you’re either going to yeet yourself getting there or yeet yourself back in your seat.
The $49 you paid for this flight didn’t buy the right to yell at me. Sit down, Karen.
The galley isn’t your yoga studio. Stop stretching in our workspace like it’s Equinox and don’t you dare touch that slide pack, it’s sensitive.
The Psychology of Passengers
No matter your income, manners are a choice. A first-class ticket and a nice suit don’t upgrade your character.
Passengers want to be seen without being seen. Read that again.
The calmest passengers? Usually the ones who board with nothing but a paperback and a granola bar.
The loudest ones? Usually the least prepared.
Privacy is power. Some people pay $20,000 not for a leather seat but so no one sees them cry over a spreadsheet.
People show their true selves when the WiFi doesn’t work.
Flight Crew Lore
If you know, you know: certain airports smell like despair.
The flight crew will silently roast you for how many times you press the call button.
Crying baby? Fine. Crying adult? Please no.
Someone always sneaks their animal on board hoping you and the gate agent won’t notice. Ma’am, can you please explain why your duffle bag just barked at me?
We do, in fact, see the mile-high club shenanigans. And we will shame you with loudness and bombastic side-eye.
If you hand us your trash like it’s a personal insult, we’ll remember your face. Forever.
We will clock your boarding outfit. Fashion crimes will be noted.
The real MVPs? Flight crews who quote Airplane mid-service without missing a beat. “Surely you can’t be serious.” “I am serious. And don’t call me Shirley.”
The Rare & Glorious Passenger
You smiled when we greeted you, didn’t grab us mid-service, and were patient. You’re basically the Beyoncé of 35,000 feet.
You ordered your drink and your snack in one sentence without making us play 20 Questions. You can sit with us forever.
When the toddler in 16B started crying, you offered the mom a kind look instead of a judgmental sigh. That’s main character energy.
You waited until the seatbelt sign was turned off. These rules are not arbitrary. You’re the reason we still believe in miracles.
You asked, “Hey, how’s your day going?” We’ll adopt you on the spot.
You saw us hustling and said, “Take your time, no rush.” We saw God in that moment.
When we say, “Trash?” and you hand over everything: cups, wrappers, broken dreams. We want to put you in first class based on vibes alone.
Being a flight attendant isn’t just a job, it’s a front row seat to the circus of human behavior. We’ve seen it all. Smelled it all. Cleaned it all. And somehow, we still show up, hair pinned, smile on, cart stocked.
So next time you fly, remember: we’re not just handing you pretzels. We’re holding space for your humanity, judging your snack choices, and laughing with each other at 35,000 feet.
And no, you still can’t sit in the exit row.
