Writer's POV:
Ivy stood just inside the cabin door of Flight 1037, adjusting her name tag for the tenth time, silently rehearsing her best "welcome aboard" smile. The Altura Air jet gleamed around her—leather seats, soft gold lighting, and the scent of fresh coffee drifting from the galley. Everything felt too luxurious to touch, like she was working inside a high-end watch. It still didn't feel real: her first flight as a flight attendant was happening.Her fellow crew members moved with effortless confidence. Nadia, the senior flight attendant, scanned a clipboard, tapped her pen against her lips, and gave Ivy a sideways glance."You're with me on service," she said, her voice crisp but not unkind. "Don't worry. First flights are always chaos in a skirt." A faint smile tugged at her lips.Ivy let out a nervous laugh and nodded, her fingers twitching as the glint of her acrylic nails caught her eye again. The captain's voice crackled over the speaker."Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. This is Captain Blanchard. We'll be departing shortly for New York with a flight time of approximately four hours and thirty-two minutes. Please make sure your seat belts are fastened and all personal items are stowed."After completing the safety demonstration and securing the cabin, Ivy made her way to her jump seat near the rear galley. Her heart thudded loud and hard as she clipped in and folded into the brace position—head down, arms over knees, eyes locked on the floor, silently praying the plane would take off and land smoothly.As the jet lifted off, a quiet gasp escaped her. The deep rumble filled her chest—part nerves, part awe. She was officially airborne."Don't worry... the captain knows his job," Jason said beside her, his voice low and reassuring as he gave her arm a light pat, still in brace position.Once the seatbelt signs turned off, Ivy followed Nadia's lead. The beverage cart felt like it weighed a ton, and every bump in the aisle was a new balancing act. With each step, she silently begged not to spill anything or lose control of the cart.The passengers were a mixed bag—some polite, some indifferent, and one older woman who leaned in and whispered, "It's your first day, isn't it?" before slipping Ivy a butterscotch candy like a blessing. Ivy smiled shyly, nodding as she tucked it into her pocket.By the end of her first round, Ivy had spilled two ice cubes, couldn't locate the ginger ale, and mispronounced "Cabernet." But she also nailed the passenger count, remembered all the first-class row numbers, and kept smiling through every moment.As she buckled in for landing and folded into the brace position once more, something surprising washed over her.She didn't hate it.She might even love it.And the thought of resigning? Not anytime soon.