Passengering Do’s and Don’ts

August 4th, 2026

And into August we go.

More than half the year has disappeared already, and I find myself thinking about Halloween presents and Christmas shopping. Isn’t that dreadful when the flowers haven’t even stopped blooming yet?

I’ve enjoyed the summer so far though, in between the showers. Those evenings sat in the garden with the dogs at my feet and a glass of rosé in my hand. Occasionally the children emerge to see me too, checking in on dear old Mum in between TikTok videos, Xbox battles and whatever else young adults do these days.

I do sometimes wonder how long it will be before the nest is completely empty and those visits become mostly virtual though...

But anyway, that’s enough middle-aged mum chat. That’s not what you’re tuning in for, is it?

You want the juicy stuff. The behind-the-scenes bits. The insights. Not me worrying about the empty nest that is looming somewhere on the horizon.

So, I have a good one for you this month because, believe it or not, I started writing this blog from above the clouds.

Yes, there I was, three wines down, post-movie and post-dinner, attempting to co-ordinate my fingers well enough to type and give you a real-life, real-time insight into what it’s like to be a passenger on your own aircraft.

A customer in your own shop, so to speak.

And so, before I get to the part where I accidentally drink my body weight in alcohol and fall asleep with my socks on, I should probably explain how I ended up there in the first place...

I think it’s probably the same at most airlines; crew get positioned here, there and everywhere.

Sometimes it’s because an aircraft change means more crew are needed on the flight home.

Sometimes it’s because the schedule has left an aircraft with too much downtime, or not enough, to use the same crew for both sectors. The reasons are probably endless, to be fair and, me? Well, I gave up trying to second-guess the thinking behind it all a long, long time ago.

All I know is that a lovely little New York positioning sector suddenly appeared on my roster and I found myself saying a silent thank you to the rostering gods for considering me for such a cheeky little number.

Of course, it is a bit of a mystery prize, so to speak.

It’s not like booking a holiday where you know you’re definitely going. There’s a strong chance, yes, but right up until that aircraft door closes, you daren’t get too confident about it because there is always the possibility that you’ll be the diva who falls off the stage at the last minute.

“Pack your uniform in your carry-on.”

That’s the rule.

Because if the working crew are missing a soul, you may well be the unfortunate volunteer who suddenly finds themselves going from passenger to crew member before you take off.

And trust me, that little possibility has a remarkable way of keeping you humble.

So, no airside drinks. No welcome champagne, even if you’re lucky enough to get a seat up front… and if you find yourself wedged in a middle economy seat between people with questionable eating and hygiene habits, well… suck it up buttercup… just because you’re positioning does not afford you all of the benefits of a real passenger – you don’t have a choice in everything.

Luckily for me, I did manage to score a cheeky little upgrade, although it was touch and go for a while. And believe me, I felt the heartstrings pull when the crew member offered me a boarding champagne. But don’t you worry, I made up for it once the door was shut.

I had a lovely seat next to a colleague and, for a short while at least, I found myself trying to put myself in the passengers’ shoes. To think about the frustrations that might be blighting the fare-paying traveller as they filed past me all flustered and hot.

Because we do forget sometimes.

It’s easy to become defensive when someone boards a little short-tempered and to take it personally, but we haven’t been standing in the security queue for forty minutes while every bag seems to be searched. We haven’t been battling our way through a crowded terminal, or been tackled at the gate by people who appear to operate on a free-seating mindset despite having allocated seats.

We know there are issues with locker space on certain aircraft, but we’re usually the ones sorting it out. The heroes arriving in the middle of the battle, not the ones who were there when it started.

And perhaps that’s why, every now and then, it’s good to sit on the other side of the curtain and remind ourselves what the journey feels like from the passenger’s perspective.

And so we boarded, took our seats, said hello to the crew we recognised and did our very best to be no bother whatsoever.

There is always an element of guilt when you’re the one sitting down being served while your colleagues work away around you. But, out of uniform, we aren’t permitted to help, so the guilt is kind of pointless.

Can you imagine it?

There you are in your matching Alo sweatsuit, loading meal boxes into ovens or collecting trays, and a real passenger spots you.

What on earth would they think?

That the airline has some very questionable practices, no doubt. That it should be reported to Head Office, Customer Services, or perhaps straight to Instagram for a few likes and a whole lot of completely unsolicited opinions.

So no.

We sit down.

We ask for nothing.

We behave like the most dignified of dignified passengers.

We don’t expect special treatment. Perhaps a bottle of water to keep us going. We happily accept whichever meal choice is left over and we try our absolute best to be the easiest passengers on the aircraft.

If we can’t help our colleagues, then the very least we can do is make their day a little easier, don’t you think?

And it was a good flight. I watched a movie, enjoyed the complimentary drinks that seemed to keep appearing, wrote the best part of this, with every intention of performing a sober edit the following morning, and eventually wobbled off the aircraft in New York ready to enjoy twenty-four hours in the Big Apple.

There was a bit of a kerfuffle over transport to the hotel. It seems Scheduling could book our tickets and reserve our rooms, but whoever was responsible for arranging the transport was either on a day off or operating under the assumption that a sixteen-seater minibus could somehow accommodate almost thirty crew.

Of course, the first seats were offered to the crew who had actually worked the flight. That wasn’t even a discussion. Still, I can’t pretend there wasn’t a tiny wrench as they pulled away without us. It had been a long day for everyone, albeit a considerably easier one for us.

And so, we got the train.

Yes, we went all independent when someone decided we could get into town quicker under our own steam than waiting for another bus to arrive. We absolutely nailed it too, following the captain through the station like an obedient flock and arriving at the hotel a full five minutes ahead of the working crew.

Go us.

We’ll claim the expense back, of course, but I have to admit it felt like quite an achievement, doing something like that when we usually don’t have to think about such things. I even jotted it all down, just in case I find myself visiting New York as a passenger any time in the near future.

And as for New York itself, I hadn’t even realised how much I’d missed it.

I haven’t been there much lately. It’s one of those destinations that seems to evade me personally, but it’s always a pleasure to come back.

The World Cup was being played there too, so we all headed to a bar to watch the match in real time and, I have to admit, as someone who barely understands the offside rule, but with several drinks already under my belt, I became far more emotionally invested in the outcome than was probably reasonable.

One craft beer quickly became three. Then a gin and tonic or two appeared from somewhere, and before I knew it I was stumbling back through Manhattan wondering whether I was getting too old for this sort of thing.

The answer, it turned out, was probably yes. Because the next thing I remember is waking up face down on the bed in my minuscule Manhattan hotel room, still fully dressed and without so much as having taken my socks off.

Which, as any crew member will tell you, is usually a fairly reliable sign that you’ve had a good night.

I should say I’m not proud of this, but heck, you’re here for the insights, so there you go.

But I do have to say in hindsight, that while drinking your way across the Atlantic may seem like a brilliant idea at the time... It may power you through the rest of the day and gift you a false sense of stamina, and it may also give you a wildly misplaced faith in your own drinking ability… you will almost certainly pay for the following morning.

And believe me, I did.

I dragged my hungover self around the city regretting my decisions. I walked two thousand steps in one direction to buy my Wallflowers from Bath & Body Works, then another three thousand back towards Macy’s. I picked up the bits I needed from Target and eventually attempted to neutralise the stomach acid with a Chipotle on the way back to the hotel.

And then, before I knew it, it was time to fly home.

I showered, polished myself up, ironed my uniform and came downstairs to check out looking as though I had been working all along.

The funny thing was though, I barely recognised anyone.

The crew all looked completely different from the group I had travelled out with and, quite frankly, a night flight isn’t the ideal time to be trying to learn all those new names. I spent most of the journey smiling politely and hoping nobody noticed I hadn’t got a clue who half of them were.

Then, just like that, we landed.

We said our goodbyes, collected our bags and drifted back to our cars, ready to head home.

Forty-eight hours gone, a hangover conquered, and another story to tell.

And the rest of the month, indeed the month ahead... well, it’s the summer holidays, and I should think that tells you all you need to know.

Full flights. Delayed departures. Chaos, challenges and all the little dramas that inevitably come hand in hand with our busiest time of year.

But that’s okay.

Because what I’ve come to realise over the years is that a flight is always just a flight.

Whether you’re a passenger or crew, whether you’re in Economy or First, whether it’s the trip of a lifetime or simply another day at work, the basics remain the same.

You take off.

You have a bit in the middle.

And then you land.

And regardless of where you’re sitting, how much champagne you’ve consumed, whether your bags made it, or whether the person in 32B spent eight hours kicking your seat, the only thing that really matters is that you land safely.

Don’t you think?

So, for now, I’ll leave you with that thought. I’ll stock up on some sleep, preserve what little energy I have left and get myself ready for the busy weeks ahead.

And after all of that will come the blissful lull of September… when calm will be restored.

I’ll see you there.

Much love,

Susan x