I used to think a gorilla could do my job. Not anymore. I think it would shock most people to know just how much we need to know. Not just know, but prove our mental and physical prowess each and every year. It's either that or lose our jobs. Plus I doubt gorillas love people and love to travel.

Oddly enough, the more I fly the more I think passengers believe we're nothing short of little Einstein's.

They believe our geography knowledge is second to none. We can name every mountain range we're flying over, every body of water, each little city...we can even discern state lines.

They believe we are capable of predicting the future. We can tell them if the weather is going to affect our arrival or departure time. I always thought it would be fun to carry around a magic eight ball and when asked if they're going to make their connection, I could consult it and show them the answer: "Not likely." We can tell them if their seat mates are going to make the flight. Would they be able to spread out? I could give the eight ball another shake: "Fat Chance."

This is only a tiny sampling of how deep and vast they believe our knowledge is. Something mind-numbing must happen to them when they step on board. Many have trouble deciding if they should head into the cockpit or down the aisle. They have difficulty matching their seat number with the row they're in. They can't decipher diagrams that tell them whether they're at the window or the aisle. They can't distinguish the ashtray (that's in the center of the door!) from the door handle to get into the lavatory. On doors you need to push to get into, there's a big sign on the door that says, "PUSH." They find this so baffling I need to do a charade-like illustration of "pushing" to help them out. They can't remember the definitions of "occupied" and "vacant."

Remember those toys we played with when we were little? The ones that had different shapes that fit into different holes? Only the square shaped piece fit into the square shaped hole? That concept escapes them. At least we didn't break the toy trying to force a piece into a hole where it CLEARLY doesn't fit.

They have trouble differentiating the reading light button from the flight attendant call button...even though the light button has a picture of light bulb on it and the call button has a picture of a person on it.

I remember when Dane was only four years old and had to sit by himself on a flight. I drilled him on how to act. "Have your order ready, don't you dare ask what we have, tell them as quickly and clearly as possible what you want, say 'please' and 'thank you' and then sit there and look at your books."

The whole time I'm giving him his "coaching" he's staring up at the flight attendant call button and at the end of my explicit instructions to ONLY push it if there's an emergency, he adds, "....or if I want another drink."

"NO! Haven't you been listening?? I said NEVER push it unless there's an emergency."

"Why on the button is the lady carrying a drink?" he asks, logically enough.

"Why? Because flight attendants didn't design them, that's why."

And if some of our Einstein flight attendants did design airplanes?  The flying public would be much happier...and so would we.