Happy flying anniversary.
That's one whole year of "coffee, tea? Sugar, cream" and "sit down please seat belt please seat back please luggage under the front seat please," but also a year of working out in lux hotels, thai massages, sun-bathes on the Bali beach, and defenitely a lot of shopping.
So ask me if I'm liking the job. You wake up at 3 in the morning, but you get home by noon. You work while your family is sound asleep, but you get to pick up your kids (if you have any, that is,) and go through their homework after a family dinner. You don't have weekends. Nor Christmas, nor Chinese New Year holidays. But you get to go to the movies whenever you want, like say 11 in the morning on Wednesdays, avoiding the TGIF crowd. And you probably get to count down to the New Year in Time Square or under the London Eye, or see the fireworks where they actually blossom: in the air.
Sometimes I wander on an exotic street and ponder: what good have I ever done to earn this? The world, so big and small at the same time, so beautiful and fragile, and my job is to witness it. But other times, I stay awake, alone in a hotel bed, losing track of time, feeling suffocatingly lonely, suffocatingly far away from home. Life seems to be such a solitary journey, and friends are so close yet so distant.
But then again, everyone needs to learn to be with him/herself. Someone intimate told me.
So apart from the bitter moments, life working in the floating circus is still a sweet box of chocolate.... so far so good :)
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