So I’m sitting on a plane at night. We’ve landed and we’re waiting for the gate monster to latch onto our door like those suck-fish on the side of aquariums, and the first classers to get their black leather articles and de-plane.

I’m in the window seat and looking out. It’s snowing–the first big one of the year–and I’m watching it fall, when I notice the plane next to us. It’s dark outside and I can see inside the plane’s windows. Apparently this one was beween flights, when they do the mysterious and sometimes inadequate cleaning of your seatbacks and tray tables in the full upright and locked position. I saw some torsos walking up and down, doing the cleaning thing. I went back to snowgazing.

I looked over a few minutes later and I saw a flight attendant, slowly walking the aisle in the abandoned plane. He had a bottled water and he was casually making his way down. He found a seat–an exit row seat–and sat down. It was the ’sit down’ we all do when we’ve been on our feet for too long. Saw his face: middle aged guy, balding.

He took a long drink and just sat there. He looked around, and looked outside the window. I think he saw me, but we didn’t wave. He turned back and took another pull on the water bottle.

I guess I never wondered what they do when they get their breaks. This guy had the plane to himself, and enjoyed a little of what his clients did earlier. A seat, a sigh, and a drink. It was kind of nice to have a window glimpse into that moment.

I could relate.