Are You Sure You're Old Enough to Work Here?

......a posting so epic it must be told in two parts*........
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At least once a trip someone says something along the lines of, "Are you sure you're old enough to work here?"

The short answer is "Yes, I'm quite sure."

Butwith my 27th birthday on the near horizon (late twenties...yikes!),this questionis increasing less annoying and considerably more flattering.

Witha youthful appearance and a tendency to laugh often and at random, I'musuallycontent to assume the role of neophyte and then impress with unexpectedcompetence. After two years of flying, I'm comfortable enough in my abilityto do myjob that I'm having more fun than ever, which only makes me seeyounger.

But a recent trip solidfidyed my conviction that I am "quite sure" that I am an adult.

Ipicked up this trip because it was fairly productive and had a nice layoveratthe Seattle airport hotel about which I've previously blogged.

WhenI got on board I discovered that my 3-day trip was actually the lastpartof a scheduled 4-day, and the rest of the crew had just spent 24 hoursinMontego Bay, Jamaica.

I met the captain first. He struck me as very good-natured and professional, and about the biggest nerd I had ever met.

Asif to illustrate the full spectrum of personality possibilities, therewasthe first officer, who was very young, very attractive and very awareof it. I was curious about the fact that he was wearing a long-sleeved shirtinAugust, but carefully worded my inquiry as as not to say "aren't you hot?",andendure his smirking response.

The first class girl was even younger,22,from Kentucky and had only been flying four months. The woman workingbackgalley had been flying for many years. She commuted from Seattle, but wasorigianally from Tahiti and had a lovely accent and a classic beauty.

Offically,I was the lead, but hey had already established a repoire, soI tried notto barge into the crew vibe. Especially since it was quicklyapparent thatKentucky had Sleeves in her sights.

The first nightin the hotel Iwas invited over to hang out and "havea few drinks" the othergirls and theFO. I don't drink, but I do "hang out", so I headed downthe hall withmy iPod ( the hotel had those cool radio-clocks where you couldplug in yourmp3 player).

I learned that the first officer's exessiveuniform wasdue to full-arm tatoos and that he was an aspiring musician whopacked histravel guitar on trips.

What a bizarre career I havewhere four near-strangersages 22-42 are drinking in a Florida Hilton, theOlympic games on mute, whilea mediocre flyboy howls Radiohead covers.

What was not strange, butinfinatley sadder, was watching a smitten younglady get progressivley drunkerand more flitatious. Like I said, they hadjust been in Jamaica together,so I didn't know their status, but it wasvery clear that he was more interestedin his guitar than her affections.

Suddenly I felt like I was at alame college party. I wanted to shake herto her senses as her eyes startedto swim, but instead I just excused myselfaround 2am and said I would seeeveryone at work the next day.

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*or....an attention span so short I have to break up this story**

** mine or yours??