Chapter 4

Written by: Jasmine Groves

Later, back in my room, I feel drawn towards the little ensuite. There, hanging from the curtain rail, is my uniform. Oh how I love it. I always wanted to wear a uniform, but they are not all created equal. A police woman’s uniform is somewhat boxy, the army is heaps of dull green, but a flight attendant…. Wow, as I look over at it, I can almost feel the silk scarf, all creams and crimsons and there is something very special about tying it just right, around the neck.

Through the plastic wrap, I can almost smell the lingering scent of my favourite perfume, Poison.

I stare dreamily into the mirror, it certainly is a different sort of life, no more than one or two days in any place. Different climates, times and foods all an utter feast for the senses.

I reach past into the shower, turning it on, starting my night time ritual. First a long hot shower drenching myself in lavender soap and shampoo in the hopes it will relax me.

A long very cold glass of milk follows then eye mask to block for total darkness. Cell phone alarm clock set and reminder set, check.

Then the battle with the sheets begin.


I throw myself out of the cab, struggle to grab my luggage and keep my cute little cap on and tread on the taxi driver’s foot all in my smooth move.

“Sorry,” I screech, starting a frantic dash towards gate 42, my flight to San Francisco.

Legs and arms pump, well not really, it is much more a limp slash jog since I have to drag my luggage behind me and I can’t break out in a sweat since I spent twenty minutes doing my makeup.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry” I call to the team as I whip past the gate entrance and barrel onto the plane. I wink at the pilot through the cockpit door. “Really Lasiandra? Let me guess, you didn’t sleep well!”

No time for banter, the cabin manager is in the back glaring at me around the curtain. A deep breath and I get started making the cabin ready for our passengers.

Thirty-five minutes later and everyone is on board, let the shake, rattle and roll begin and I don’t mean the turbulence. Lesson one when you are seated at the front facing the passengers, you must not, I repeat, must not seem flustered.

However, when you’re in the back of the plane, let the panic attack go!

Ding. “Ladies and gentleman, this is your captain speaking, we have just levelled out to our cruise altitude of 36,000 feet and the food service will shortly begin.”

I unwrap my clawed fingers, smooth my skirt, push the trolley through the door and feel a sharp stab on my shins, I look down at the culprit, my eyes meet a smirk and it is none other than the boy from the Intercontinental.



Haha! The boy is b...b...back!!!
What a lovely chapter, Jasmine. I can immediately feel Lasiandra's love for the job and how stressed she was being late. So beautifully described. She is certainly one interesting character. Fantastic. :)
That boy is like Damien from The Omen. He keeps getting involved in peoples lives.
He's such a him! Great character!
He's such a him! Great character!