Who would have thought I’d be getting f****d up in the air at 30,000 feet.
My name is Amy and I’m a flight attendant for private charters now. Six months ago I was still doing the regular commercial flights, smiling through delays and serving tiny bottles of wine to passengers who thought yelling at me would make the plane go faster. Then the agency called with an opening on the ultra-private side. Double the pay, triple the tips if you play it right, one rule: the clients are not normal people. They don’t ask twice. They don’t explain. You just do.
Elias Voss was my first solo on the Gulfstream G650. The briefing was short and sharp.
“Mr. Voss flies alone. No second attendant. No small talk unless he starts it. Uniform: navy skirt, white blouse, heels, stockings. Hair in a neat bun. Ma
