Happy Flying (Part Two).

Year Two. Month Four. #SEA.

This job can be really tough.

It's tough on your relationships. It's tough on your health. It's tough on your sanity.

It's tough on your wallet.

It's tough on your sleep schedule.

It's tough on your diet.

It's tough on your spirit.

I was chatting with Kara earlier today and she asked me: "How is your over-the-honeymoon-phase going?"

I've been flying for one year, four months and a handful of days.

Flying feels a little different now. I could go through the motions with ease, get done with my service, avoid the unhappy customers, sit in my jumpseat and stare at the bulkhead until we land.

Or I could do this: Walk up and down the aisle, chatting with passengers. Listen to the grumpy complaints, really listen, and try to understand. Fear, anxiety; there's a lot that is going on that we don't know about. We don't know whether a passenger is flying to Las Vegas for a bachelor party or a family member who has passed away. We don't know if someone is coming home or leaving their family, friends and life for something new. These are lives. These are stories.

As I listen to the stories, I hear more good things than bad. Happy tales of being reunited with long lost friends and family. Vacations that have been planned for months and years. New cities. Faces pressed against the glass, breathing little hopeful clouds onto the tiny pane. Eyeing mountains, lakes, oceans and earth. I feel their excitement. And I, in turn, become excited about where we are going.

Perhaps this is the secret to keep this love affair with flying alive and well: my passion for people. I'm nowhere near perfect; I have my own grumpy moments where I need to hide in the galley with a cup of coffee before emerging into the chorus of "Are we there yet?"

And even with my passion for people, this job is still tough on me.

But I think I'll make it.

Happy Flying!