My flight was being served by an obviously gay flight attendant, who did a great job at serving everyone drinks and food.
He ensured everyone was having an enjoyable flight, and I saw no complaints.
As the plane prepared to descend, he walked down the aisle and relayed directions from the captain of the plane.
“Captain Harry has asked me to announce that he’ll be landing the big scary plane shortly, so lovely people, if you could just put your trays up, that would be super.”
On his trip back up the aisle, he noticed this well-dressed Arabic woman who had not followed directions.
Her tray was completely down.
“Perhaps you didn’t hear me over those big brute engines when I asked you to raise your trazy-poo, so the main man can pitty-pat us on the ground.”
She calmly turned her head and said, “In my country, I am called a Princess and I take orders from no one.”
To which the flight attendant replied, without missing a beat, “Well, sweet-cheeks, in my country I’m called a Queen, so I outrank you. Tray up, B****!”
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