Sometimes flying is just flying, a dull and boring method of getting from point A to point B. But other times, especially on a mostly empty plane, flying can almost be fun.

Her name was Vee, a largish black flight attendant on Northwest Airlines. At first glance, I could tell that she’d been a flight attendant her whole life. She started off with the usual, that creepy plastic smile that all flight attendants share. “And what would you like to drink, sir?’

“Coffee with milk, please.”

“No sugar?”

“No thanks.”

“Now you’re going to tell me that I’m sweet enough, right?”

“Of course.” I said, playing along.

Suddenly, she sat down next to me. She shot me a fiery look and said, “You know what you need? You need a black woman, that’ll straighten you right out. Mmmm-mmmm that’s what you need alright.”

What the??

The couple in the row behind me started laughing out loud, probably thankful that the crazy woman hadn’t decided to attack them. Little did they know that they were next.

Vee, my new seatmate, continued. “You know, all white guys fantasize about having a black woman. Trust me, I’ve dated all races of men, well, except for Asians, because they too short. They all admit it’s their fantasy. I see the way guys look at me on these planes. I been a flight attendant for twenty five years, and I know what these white men think.”

Even though I was starting to get a little nervous, I still played along. I replied, “Twenty five years? How is that possible, unless you started working when you were ten?”She batted her false eyelashes at me a few times, then threw her head back and let out a loud laugh that was somewhere between a cackle and a growl. The people behind me joined in. Their laughter soon got her attention. She jumped up and went back a row. “How ’bout you two? You married?”

They probably just wanted Diet Coke. They got more than they bargained for.

Now embarrassed, the man answered, “Uhhh… no… we’re just… sorta dating.”

To the woman, “Ooooh hunny, you need to make an honest man outta him! I been waiting fo’ a man to make me honest fo’ twelve years now!”

For the next ten minutes, Hurricane Vee stood there and gave us her philosophy of life and love. Strangely, it was almost fun, a bizarre connection shared between three strangers and all-knowing Hurricane Vee. We all laughed.

Finished serving the rest of the plane, and probably sharing her ideas with everyone else, she came back and sat next to me again. She asked where I was from. When she found out I was a Rhode Island native, she laughed again, that cackling growl rising from deep inside her. “Hunny, you ain’t never gonna find you no black woman in Rhode Island!! There ain’t any there! That’s what you need though, a nice black woman to straighten you out!”

After a few more minutes of advice from my new friend, she stood. She offered me her hand as she stood up, and I shook it. Her grip was firm and her eyes were still full of fire, framed by those long, false eyelashes. For a second, I was afraid she might drag me to the lavatory at the back of the plane and show me exactly why I need a black woman. Fortunately, she let me have my hand back.

With a smile and a wink, Hurricane Vee was gone.

She came back right before the end of the flight. “Miss me?”

Yeah, I just might.

Author: frenchy