Love is in the air
I recently flew with a senior flight attendant who told me that she joined the mile-high club 35 years ago with a total stranger on Valentine’s Day, and has been married to him ever since. She says it’s not a total coincidence that her son is also 35 and named John.
The mile-high club, for those of you who aren’t frequent fliers, is an exclusive society of those who have consummated their relationship at cruising altitude.
I remember back to the first time I witnessed it while working a flight. I was in my second year and had a bit more confidence in playing the good sport with the passengers.
I caught a passenger slyly sneaking into an already-occupied lavatory. I rushed up to first class, popped open a bottle of champagne, grabbed some flowers, made a make-shift membership card, and rushed back to the scene. There I stood, with a goofy wide smile, ready to embarrass the new inductees.
A few minutes passed and out came two male passengers. I froze, and in shock I dropped the bottle and caught a champagne shower. I was young, naive and truly not expecting that to happen.
An attractive lady approached me once and informed me if I upgraded her to first class, she would guarantee my membership in the club immediately. Luckily, first class was full, so I had a valid excuse.
Is first class really worth it? In her case, I guess it was.
Once there was a young woman afraid of flying, who decided to relieve her fear by drinking. Not accustomed to alcohol, her inhibitions vanished, and she was caught in the lavatory twice with two different men.
I’m sure a sleeping pill would have been more effective — and less
embarrassing.
One past Valentine’s Day flight the lavatory call light was blinking and sounding off rhythmically. The crew all looked at each other and wondered if it could be…naah.
We investigated anyway. Moans were coming from the toilet on the left side.
“Are you OK?” we said in a low voice, but no response came from the lavatory. The bell kept on ringing, but at a faster pace. We opened the door, as we are required to do, and found two new members of the mile high club, stark naked, not realizing that they were bumping against the call button.
The lady spotted us first and began to scream.
The man whispered, “Sshhhh, somebody will hear us.”Â
The sensation is supposedly ten times more intense due to the cabin pressure and the altitude of the airplane. More likely it is because of the excitement of possibly getting caught or doing it in a public place–or so I’m told.
No, the restroom isn’t the only place it’s done.
There’s under a blanket on a night flight, heads bobbing, hands not in sight. The lower kitchen galley, the bunkroom, and now I hear Virgin Airways is coming out with double beds in Upper Class.
It makes me wonder how they will promote that product.
I’ve even heard of it happening in the cockpit. There was a recent incident where two male pilots and a flight attendant were suspended for a supposed threesome upfront in-flight.
Now the logistics of that are puzzling especially since it was on a smaller regional aircraft. They got caught when a pass-riding flight attendant, who happened to be best friends with the wife of one of the pilots, listened in and reported them.
Takes the term auto-pilot to a whole new level, doesn’t it?
I always get asked if I am a member. Well, there was this one time…
Then again, some things should stay between a husband and wife.
My 90-year-old grandmother once asked me about the mile-high club. She had heard the term, and thought it was some sort of frequent flier club, good towards mileage points. I explained as delicately as possible.
“Sex in an airplane bathroom!” she exclaimed. “Why that’s impossible, I’ve been in one, and there isn’t enough room to brush your hair, much less lie down.”