Forget your notions of jetsetting and excitement, adventure and exploration, today we are talking about the real fight attendant life. Far from the glitz of the short shorts and smoking-in-the-air era, and worlds away from the drama of scripted aviation-themed TV, the truth of the matter is that flight attendant life, a lot of the time, is pretty mundane. Boring, even. And I mean that in the best way possible.

If you’ve ever wondered what flight attendant life is really like, you’ve come to the right place. I’m giving you an inside peak into 72 hours in my life as a flight attendant, from home reserve, to working a flight, my lazy layover in San Francisco, and my hero’s journey to make it home. We’ll talk reserves vs. lineholders and why sometimes doing nothing is the most exciting layover of all. I’ll show you that flight attendant life isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be, and isn’t always as fun. But it’s still the life I’ll choose, again and again.

Here we go.

Why the Hell are we Doing This?

An excellent question.

As I’m sitting here in San Francisco, on a 24-hour layover I didn’t ask for or want, I’m tasked with creating my latest blog post. I’m not going to lie to you, inspiration is hard to find these days. I’ve been dragging my feet each week, not brainstorming ideas, not getting those ideas on paper, not publishing new posts on social media. I’m in a bit of a writing funk.

Less about a depressive state, where you don’t find enjoyment in your normal hobbies, this is more a case of the happiness effect. Writing is a lonely sport; Contained and quiet, painstaking and tedious, frustrating at times, with no one to celebrate or commiserate with until the thing is done. I’m at a place in life where sitting alone, toiling for hours isn’t as fun as it’s been in the past. Where I have plenty of other things to do, and people to do them with. Where I’m more interested in being out in the world, living my life, than reflecting on it.

Because of this I just can’t seem to get my shit together when it comes to putting words on the page. It’s frustrating, but maybe a good problem to have?

There’s also the fact that I’m living between two time zones, squeezing in sleep where I can. That on the days I’m working I only have time to work and sleep, nothing else in between, save for a shower and a cup of coffee. (Oftentimes, the only meals I eat during my stretches at work are eaten on the airplane.) This means every phone call, errand, chore, and appointment must be completed on my “off” days—along with my creative pursuits, my social activities, and whatever the word “relaxing” means. Essentially, I work for a few days, and then, with the remaining 3-4 days, I live my entire life.

I know time is limited for everyone; this limit an obstacle that every creative must overcome. I hate to use it as an excuse. But the stopping and starting of my life each week, when I make my way to and from work, is something I’m struggling to adjust to.

I woke up in San Francisco with a blog deadline approaching and nothing to write about. I woke up in San Francisco with a whole day to kill. I sat in bed and sipped my coffee and outlined the day in my head. What was the best use of my time?

How would I break up these 24 hours? Would I go out and enjoy the city? Have a spa day or a long, long walk? Would I catch up on writing? Reading? The ever-growing list of annoying tasks associated with being a homeowner and landlord? And the idea came to me that this is something in itself: How does a flight attendant map out her days, spend her layovers? Specifically, a slam-clicking flight attendant.

And so, here we are.

Read on if you care to, and if not, check back next time for something possibly more exciting. (Possibly not, since I’ll be attempting to publish from New Zealand!)

Without further ado, here’s a little slice of flight attendant life.

Some Things to Note:

1. RESERVE

First things first, we have to talk about reserve.

I am in San Francisco not by choice, but because I was called in to work on my reserve days. Reserve is when you are on call. The company sets certain times for you to be waiting by the phone or sitting in the airport in case someone calls out and a trip needs to be staffed last minute. When you first start working as a flight attendant, you are on reserve all the time, it is your whole schedule. I haven’t been in this position since 2015, when I became a “lineholder” for the first time. This means I have a schedule of trips—or “a line” for the month. So why was I sitting reserve yesterday?

You might recall back in May I started working in my company’s first-class cabin. (I talked about the training in this post from April, if you want to check it out.)

Because not every flight attendant is qualified to work in the first-class cabin, the company needs to have some first-class qualified crewmembers on call every day to ensure the flights go out. Rather than doing the normal seniority thing, where newer crewmembers have a full “line” of reserve and senior ones have none, the company has had a “shared reserve model”. Up until this month, every first-class qualified flight attendant—from the most junior to the most senior—has had to sit 3, 4, or 5 days of reserve per month. I was on day 1 of my 3-day reserve block when I was called in for this trip to San Francisco.

Luckily for me, our reserve system is changing starting next month. Because I’m in the top 50% of our work group, I shouldn’t have to sit reserve ever again. Wahoooo!

2. What Is A Slam-Clicker?

A Slam-clicker is someone who doesn’t hang out on layovers. They are not interested in going to drag brunch with you or grabbing dinner with you or having a beer in the hotel bar with you. Slam-clickers are going to slam their door shut and click the lock, pretending that you and the rest of the crew, the company, and all the passengers, do not exist.

It might seem cold or boring, but do this job for more than a decade and see how exciting the same layover cities are. See how taxing it can be to spend time with junior crews who are soooooooooo excited about their new job, or pilots who want to drone on and on about their boats, their homes, or the way the company is screwing them (not realizing you make 1/25^th of their salary and your work rules are 500 times worse.)

Showing up to work as a flight attendant means putting on a personality. You have to be on, available, kind and patient. And sometimes after work all you want to do is walk around braless, and in complete silence, behind a locked hotel room door. I wrote a whole blog post on becoming a slam-clicker back in 2022. If you want to hear more about this phenomenon, you can click here to check it out: 5 Reasons This Flight Attendant Became a Slam-Clicker.

A Day (or 2 or 3) in the Life of a Flight Attendant

Day 1

3am EST: The Call

At 3 am Monday morning I received a call from scheduling telling me they assigned me a trip—at 3:45 PM. For those of you not in the know, they have to give us a two-hour timeframe to get to the airport. So, being called at 1:45 pm would have been sufficient. But this over-achiever of a scheduler thinks calling me at 3am and waking me out of a sleep was the right thing to do.

Just so you all can see the kind of clown regime I’m living under over here, the people I work for literally don’t think I’m a human being that needs sleep. (They think I’m AI or something?)

8:30 Up & at ’em

After a heated explanation of why calling me at 3am was the wrong thing to do, I went back to sleep and woke up around 8:30. I sat on the front porch of my family’s house in Maine, sipping black coffee and patting the dogs, rocking in a rocking chair, a blanket over my legs to keep out the September morning chill.

I had time to go for a run down a pine-lined street in their neighborhood, one of my favorite running spots, shower, have breakfast, and leave the house.

12:30pm Leave Maine

The drive from my parents’ house in Maine to the airport in Boston is about two hours. I had a couple stops to make so I had to leave early. First, I would have to stop at my “Crash Pad” to drop of a few things for next time I am in town. A crash pad is a shared apartment where flight attendants stay in between work trips. My crash pad is in East Boston, very close to the airport, and is shared between nine flight attendants, in case you were curious. Bunk bed life, for the win!

Next, I had to fill my rental car with fuel and return it at the rental car center in Boston. Then, finally, I could make my way to the airport.

The rental car center has a complementary shuttle that ferries passengers to and from the airport, which I planned to take. But for some reason, an employee of the rental car company offered to drive me, in my just-returned rental car, to the front door of Terminal C. Whether this was because I was in uniform, or pretty, or because the guy wanted to fuck off from work for a few minutes, I’ll never know. But a private ride is better than a crowded shuttle, and I’m not in the business of looking a gift horse in the mouth.

15:20 Boston Logan Airport

I happened to be the most embarrassing flight attendant ever, on this day, due to my plethora of bags, including a giant teal Osprey backpack stuffed full of winter clothing. (It doesn’t quite go with the uniform, as you can see.)

I had gone to Maine to visit my mom on her birthday and to see my grandmother, but I also needed to pick up some things. In my move to San Diego, some of my items, including my warm winter clothes, were left behind. Worst daughter alert!

I am heading to New Zealand at the end of the month, and I’m expecting cold weather in the evenings and on the mountain peaks. I considered leaving my giant backpack in the crew bag room in the airport, while I flew to San Francisco for a couple days, then picking it up when I arrived. The problem is that as a “commuter” (someone who lives an airplane ride away from where they work), you are always running to catch your flight home. When I land in Boston tomorrow, I will have to wait for the last passenger to get off my plane so that I can sprint across the terminal to catch my flight to San Diego (Or, more likely, to Denver or Las Vegas, through which I can connect to San Diego.)

**Please remember this the next time you are taking your sweet ass time deplaning an aircraft—you might just be shattering someone’s dreams of getting home that day.

Because of my upcoming commute, it didn’t feel prudent to leave my things at the airport and have to make an extra stop after I landed. So, here I went on my trip to San Francisco, a suitcase, lunchbox, tote bag, and my 36 Liter backpack. Cute.

16:45 Flight to San Francisco

My flight was good, but busy. I used every wine glass in first class and had to apologize to three people for not having the food selection they wanted. If you are interested in becoming a flight attendant, note that one of your “jobs”—and one not talked about enough—will be apologizing for things that are not your fault and out of your control. It’s such a hoot. Truly a good time. 10/10.

Five hours and forty minutes later we were touching down in SFO.

21:00 Arrive at Hotel

Time to Slam-Click!

If I wasn’t in the mood to do a layover, this was the right one to be assigned. Our San Francisco layover hotels (we have six) are all nice, and the one I’m in might just be the nicest of all. We stay in Union square, so there is plenty to do and eat outside of the hotel, but it is also the perfect hotel to have a lazy stay, catching up on sleep or doing dumb, productive things in bed.

I showered, drank some chamomile tea, ate some crackers, and unpacked while listening to an audiobook. This is my preferred layover nighttime routine. The audiobook helps me to relax before bed and feels like I’m getting a bit of entertainment along the way—some “me” time after work.

23:00 Pacific Standard Time: Lights Out

Day 2

08:30 Wake Up

Pop half a melatonin and go right back to sleep.

My trip arrived in San Fran in the evening, and the following evening, 24 hours later, I’d be working the redeye from San Francisco back to Boston. Many of my coworkers wake up early on the west coast because their bodies are set to east coast time. They will putter around town and then take a nap before the flight to ensure they’re fresh and ready to stay awake overnight.

My body doesn’t work this way. A nap in the afternoon is just never going to happen. Instead, I like to sleep as late as possible so that when I wake up for the day, I can have some coffee and enjoy the hours before work.

12:30 Wake Up (For Real)

My attempt at sleeping late was successful, and I finally got myself out of bed at 12:30pm. This was 3:30pm east coast time, meaning staying awake and working until 6am would be a piece of cake.

I brewed my stupid hotel coffee, and threw the curtains open to let in the daylight. The view was less than stellar, but hey, you can’t win ‘em all.

12:30-17:00 Things in Bed

Things like coffee, breakfast, writing this stupid blog post, taking care of annoying homeowner things, and a bit of trip planning for my upcoming jaunt through New Zealand.

Four hours might seem like a lot of time, but don’t forget the breaks to brew more coffee, sing in the bathroom, text with friends, and post on Instagram.

17:00-18:00 Gym

The creature emerges from her room!

(Not from hotel property, but as mentioned before, you can’t win ‘em all.)

I needed a trip to the gym because my brain and body were beginning to feel out of sorts after a week of hardly any exercise at all. I cannot stress enough how closely my physical and mental health are intertwined. Having a regular routine at home including gym classes and run club is one of the things that keeps me sane. (As sane as I am, for those of you commenting.)

18:00-19:40 More Hotel Room

Shower, eat my stupid salad for dinner, pack up my belongings that were strewn from corner to corner of my hotel room, and get ready for another night at work.

19:50 Van ride to Airport

I spend the 20 minutes looking up flight options to get home the next morning. This is all I do now. Rad.

21:30 SFO-BOS Flight

If you ask me, redeye flying is the best. Everybody slept, only three people ate, and I hardly had to speak to a soul. The only excitement came mid-flight, when a girl asked to be moved because her boyfriend would not stop YELLING at her. I obviously moved her seat and offered to beat him up. (Just kidding.) (Or am I?)

6:30am (back on East Coast Time!) Arrive in BOS

Get everybody off the plane, grab my bags, and sprint across the airport to get to my flight to Denver.

“But Toni, you don’t live in Denver!”

Correct. Unfortunately, the direct flight to San Diego has already taken off 30 minutes ago, so unless I want to wait until 4pm, I’ve got to two-leg it home. Denver was the next best option for me, but sometimes I commute through Las Vegas when I need to.

7:00-9:50am Flight to Denver

And nap time for me.

10:15am DEN-SAN flight

You’ll notice I only had 25 minutes to connect to my second flight. If you are not a flight attendant, DO NOT EVER DO THIS. It’s super risky. Luckily, my first flight landed slightly early, and we came into the same terminal I’d be flying out of. It was still a long walk and required some hustle to get there. But your girl made it, and thanks to another airline, I got home before noon. Only eight hours after I finished working.

This is when I am so, so thankful for the time change going west. Despite it taking a full workday’s worth of time to get there, it was still early enough when I landed that I got to feel like I had a day off at home.

12:15 (PST again) Home, Sweet Home

Arrive home, throw flight attendant costume in the dirty laundry, shower the airplane off my body, and pretend aviation doesn’t exist for four glorious days.

Notice how many times in the last three days my body has had to shift time zones. Thankfully, she is still resilient enough to handle this bi-coastal existence, but it definitely can take a toll.