You are a flight attendant. On the plane, complete strangers wearing identical flight uniforms to yours confess their innermost secrets to you. This is called: Jumpseat Therapy.
It is a strange phenomenon. You go to briefing, meet five other crew members you’ve never laid eyes on before, and then, based on seniority, choose which duties you will be responsible for on the plane (which also determines where you will sit). Next thing you know, you are buckled in next to someone who will inevitably share her entire life story with you.
No topic is off limits. Your new best friend tells you about her recent divorce, her five miscarriages, her mean former sister-in-law, her impending court date, and her flirty neighbor. This is during boarding. By take-off, she has revealed that she was abused as a child and always felt her soul mate was her second cousin.
You want to participate in the share-fest too, but your life is pretty boring. So you make stuff up.
“My boyfriend just got out of jail,” you say competitively, “for tax evasion.”
She ups the ante. “My grown son just got his alcoholic girlfriend pregnant, and they’re moving in with me.”
“My twin sister got fired from her last job,” you throw down the gauntlet, “for seducing her supervisor’s wife.”
“My youngest daughter is bulimic and in the hospital. Again.”
“My neighbor crashed his car. Into my living room.”
“My former best friend set my house on fire. While I was in it.”
You cannot win, so you give up.
“I think I just broke my nail?” you squeak.
She looks at it sympathetically. “That's a pretty serious injury. You might have to have a paramedic meet the flight when we land.”
You nod.
MOV
