First of all, I vow never to fly to Australia in coach again. After experiencing the back of the bus on my last 2 day turn around to Melbourne and now the comfort and civility of premium class seating, there is no return. Of course, chances are great that if I am ever to return for work, I'll be amongst the cattle. One can always dream.
For our trip out, our flight attendant was Tal. A rugged, but gentle ex-pat now spending most of his time in Sydney.
His first words to us after we took off were something like, "Mmm, I feel just like Goldilocks and you are my three bears."
It all went downhill from there. Innuendi flew. Witty reparté ensued. Wine glasses overflowed with cheer. Mirth and merriment and a cozy set of pajamas followed.
When it was time for breakfast, he brought along his colleague Bhob (I'm not kidding) to poke fun at my questionable vegetarian special meal. We never did figure out what it was. Friend of cornbread? Dry flavorless grits?
I'll miss him on the return. I asked if they knew who would be working my flight back and after thinking a moment, Bhob replied, "Oh, maybe it's...OH NO, not that girl." Now I'm afraid.
We leave it to you, our dear readers to determine who is Pappa Bear, Mama Bear, and Baby Bear.