Today I got an e-mail that cracked me up. Here it is in full:
My flight was being served by an obviously gay flight attendant, who seemed
to put everyone in a good mood as he served us food and drinks.
As the plane prepared to descend, he came swishing down the aisle and told
us that “Captain Marvey has asked me to announce that he'll be landing the
big scary plane shortly, so lovely people, if you could just put your trays
up, that would be super.”
On his trip back up the aisle, he noticed this well-dressed and rather
Arabic looking woman hadn't moved a muscle. “Perhaps you didn't hear me over those big brute engines, but I asked you to raise your trazy-poo, so the main man can pitty-pat us on the ground.”
She calmly turned her head and said, “In my country, I am called a Princess,
and I take orders from no one.”
To which (I swear) the flight attendant replied without missing a beat,
“Well, sweet cheeks, in my country I'm called a Queen, so I outrank you. Tray up, bitch.”
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