My name was called and I walked in front of the class with my head held high, my hair done in an up-do with more hairspray and bobby pins then I have ever owned, and my makeup carefully applied. I was receiving my wings after three weeks of Flight Attendant training and I was about to embark on a career path many little girls had only imagined. My life was going to change; I would be living a glamorous lifestyle filled with layovers in vibrant cities, hotels with posh amenities, and a new uniform that would allow me to cut security lines, fly for free on my days off, and earn me discounts in overpriced airport shops. My instructor pinned on my wings and life as I knew it was about to change.
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