Chapter 1

I’m almost too embarrassed to relate this story, but I suppose that I should, as a warning for all who read it to make sure that they plan ahead and cover themselves for any contingency. Remember to double your back-up and to make sure that it’s at hand. My problems started at thirty-five thousand feet over Northern Italy, and things went downhill from there, mainly due to my own mistake in not having that extra cover.

Firstly, though, a little history. My father was a military hero in my eyes. He was a pilot, flying in support of our troops in Afghanistan as I was growing up. I didn’t see much of him for months on end, but that never stopped me from admiring him and wanting to fly.

My problem was that I lacked the brain power to become a pilot, so ended up getting a job with an airline as a cabin steward. By this time, my father had left the Air Force and was now flying for the same airline, which had been a help when I had applied for the job. The company was one of those privately owned ones, with a varied fleet of aircraft. We did have six ex-British Airways Boeing 777-200’s and had started competing with the big boys in the long-haul game.

The first two years of my career were busy, and then came covid, but the boss kept us on minimum wage, with short flights only for a couple of years. I had trained in smaller aircraft on the shorter European routes and had become good enough to be offered a position doing long-haul, once we started operating again.

It did help that I was single, as you could find yourself heading to all points at short notice. We had a good-sized pool of cabin workers, most of them good-looking girls, and there could be one or two male stewards on some trips. Now, I know the reputation all of us male cabin stewards have, I’ve heard all the comments about the ‘twink’ stewards. The thing is, when you work in a confined space with a lot of girls, some of their mannerisms tend to stick. On top of that, there’s just no room in an aircraft for a bodybuilder dude unless they’ve paid for a seat.

The trip that caused me trouble had been thrust on me at the last minute, due to a sudden spate of gastric infections. It was 2024, I had just got back off a flight from L.A. and was about to pick up my flight case from the logistics officer at Heathrow, when I heard my name being called over the speakers.

“Would Jamie Curtis please report to the company offices if he is still in the terminal.”

Jamie Curtis, that’s me. Or should I say it in full, seeing that it was foisted on me by my mother. She insisted that I was to be called Jamie Lee Curtis, after one of her favourite film stars. It wasn’t too much of a problem, once I got used to the odd comment, as most people realised that the name could belong to a man as well. The worst times were when I was asked to scream, seeing that the original Jamie Lee was known as the ‘Scream Queen’ with all the horror movies she had done.

Anyway, back to the story. I went to the company office and was told that we were severely short of a cabin crew with a flight to Sydney that was due to take off in less than an hour. I had nothing better to do, so agreed to take the flight. I had the cabin uniform that I had used for the U.K. to L.A. trip in my bag, with stains from a toddlers dessert on the shirt and trousers, and the one I was currently wearing was reasonable, as the flight from L.A. had been uneventful. I figured that I could go, as is, and get the other one cleaned in Sydney, as I was promised a four-day layover.

So, that evening, we were wheels up and heading for Singapore, and then on to Sydney. Usually, the night flights were easy, as everyone would be sleeping. However, this particular trip was anything but easy. We had a bunch of rugby fans going to see England play Australia, in Sydney. We had two families with six toddlers between them, who just didn’t want to be enclosed in a cylinder, full of strangers, without their usual cartoons or their favourite foods.

I was working the economy class, along with three girls. There were two girls up the front of the plane, working first class, and another three working business class. Most of the passengers passed on the evening meal and tried to sleep, but the toddlers were causing trouble. I ended up getting chocolate mousse down one trouser leg, which did clean off, mostly. When they settled, finally, I mopped my pants leg with a damp cloth, and carried on. We were somewhere near the Pakistan border when I was walking along the aisle with a tray of beers for our still-awake rugby fans, and I walked into a stream of projectile vomit from one of them.

The amount of beer that he had consumed, along with the curry he had chosen for his evening meal, covered me from chest to groin. I called over to Moyra, one of the stewardesses, to help me with the clean-up. Together, we mopped and sponged, while passengers alongside us were deciding to fill their own barf-bags. To say that it was a disaster zone would be an understatement. A half-an-hour later, we had removed all the evidence, and I had managed to also remove the bits of carrot from my clothes. It’s funny, whenever someone throws up in a plane, there’s always carrot.

Now, our planes had a small area for the crew, with our own toilet, and a bank of drawers for our personal items. We would keep a spare set of clothes in those, along with our papers and anything else we would need. My drawer, that flight, only had a small flight bag with my wallet and other paperwork in. We all wore our company ID on a lanyard, which was hidden under our shirts or dresses. My roller case, of course, was in the baggage hold, along with all the passenger cases.

Moyra went up front to get Cynthia, the chief stewardess, to come and see what we could do to salvage the situation. As I was the only steward on this trip, I couldn’t borrow any clothes, and couldn’t work with what I had on. We had over an hour before we would need to get the breakfast trolleys out, but that’s the time when we needed all of us to be active.

Cynthia came into our cramped hide-away, took one sniff of me and ordered me to go into the toilet and wash myself, all over. Moyra told her that I didn’t have anything to change into, so she got one of the girls to give me a safety razor, and I was told to shave everywhere I could reach, as I was going to have to wear borrowed clothing for the rest of the flight.

I couldn’t do anything but follow her orders, her being my boss on this flight. I wondered what she had in mind. Would I end up in a version of the girls uniforms? While us guys had a basic look – a beige shirt with the logo, and our name badge clipped over that. Trousers were black slacks with black shoes. There was a jacket, but that was only worn on the ground and mine was in the baggage hold.

The girls had a wider range, with beige and black being the base. There was a shift dress, with black hose and shoes; there was a beige blouse with a black skirt, or black slacks. A lot depended on what part of the plane you were working, with the better dressed up the front with the dearer seats. On this flight, seeing that we were going to land in a hot destination, all the girls in economy were in the blouse and skirt. The company was better than most when it came to footwear, with one-inch heels being the usual, going to two-inch up front. When you’re on your feet for ten to fifteen hours, tall heels can be killers, or so I’d been told.

I went into the toilet, with a plastic bag for my soiled clothes. I was totally naked, in front of the wash basin, when Cynthia opened the door and passed me some things, and took away my bag of clothes, as well as my shoes and socks. When I had got myself clean and had shaved all I could see, I looked at the items she had left. Somehow, she had got one of the girls to lend me a bra and some panties, and there was an unopened pack of tights.

With a sigh, I managed to get the panties on, and then the tights without tearing them. Finally, I managed to get the bra in place and opened the door to see Moyra with a big grin on her face.

“That Cynthia is a dab hand at guessing sizes, Jamie. You’re lucky that Wanda had some things that fit you. Now, let’s get you into a dress and get you made up. You’ll be a natural when you’ve let me have a go at that man-bun of yours. I’ve always wondered what you’ll look like with your hair down.”

She handed me a beige dress, which I was about to put on when she held her hand up.

“Not so fast, Jamie! I know that you really want to wear the dress, but there’s a couple of things we have to do, first, now, sit on the pull-down and let me work some magic.”

I pulled the seat down that we use for landings and take-offs, and she examined my face for any stray hairs, then took some tweezers and proceeded to remove most of my eyebrows, followed by a run over with a little battery shaver, that left me with just a dark line in the female arch shape. Then she opened a make-up box and worked on my face for a good ten minutes. Then she proceeded to paint my fingernails black, to match the tights. Snapping the box shut, she tugged on my man-bun and let my hair down.

My hair was my crowning glory and was long enough to go below my shoulders.

“That’s a bit long to be regulation, so I’ll brush it with a centre parting, then give you a ponytail, with some left either side, which I’ll shorten. Now, stay still!”

I stayed still, as this would define me for the rest of the trip. I was determined to get my case in Singapore and change into my old uniform, even with the stain on the trouser leg. Eventually, she was happy, and gave me my ID on its lanyard, to put over my head, followed by her giving me my socks, now filled with paper towel, to put in the bra cups. Then I was stepping into the dress and pulling it up. I have to say that it fitted well, and I could see that my chest conformed to the usual idea of what a woman should look like. She zipped me up, at the back, and I realised that without the dexterity that girls have, I was now prisoner in the dress, to which I now clipped my Jamie name badge. Finally, they had found a pair of two-inch heels that fitted me.

When Cynthia came back, I had been walking a few steps each way until I didn’t fall over, quietly talking to Moyra in a girly voice. Cynthia took a good look at me and smiled.

“Jamie, you’ll be up the front with Belle. Wanda will take over, here, as you have her heels. She has her spare flats on now so will change into her blouse and skirt for the rest of the journey. Now, follow me and we’ll start getting the first-class breakfasts ready. I know that you’ve done that class before, and I’ve been watching you for several trips we’ve done together. Just take it slow, speak quietly, bend your knees to get down instead of bending at the waist, and I think you’ll get to Singapore without any trouble.”

I followed her down to the front of the plane and met Belle, who I had worked with before. She had a huge grin on her face when she saw me.

“Wowser, Jamie. You are every inch a woman in that dress. I’ll help you get through this, and you can take me out to dinner when we get to Sydney. I know a good place where two girls in dresses aren’t unusual.”

Over the next hour, I was busy working the breakfast trolley as we delivered the breakfasts to our passengers. There would have only been about twenty in this section, compared with more than a hundred back in economy, but these travellers had paid enough money to be looked after. It meant being nice to them, pouring their expensive drinks from freshly opened bottles, providing them with everything one would expect when you go first class. Naturally, this all takes time, far more time than you would spend with the passengers at the back of the plane.

It's a fact of life that first-class passengers are usually men, travelling alone. Unlike the ones in business class, just behind them, these are the owners or high-up in business, or else rich enough to travel this way as a matter of course. When I had worked this group as a bloke, it had been light chat about how the flight was progressing, thoughts on what was being shown on the screen at the time, all general things. As a stewardess, it was a whole lot different!

There were a couple who wanted me to pass comment on their company, from a woman’s point of view. There were a couple who were certain that I would meet them for dinner in Sydney, There were a couple who wanted me to know how badly their wives were treating them. One was a famous hairdresser who wanted to know where I went to get mine looked at. It was strange, yet interesting. I suppose that the girls got this all the time, and it became second nature to them, but, for me, it was a revelation.

The one woman noticed my lack of earrings and congratulated me on resisting the peer pressure and the marketing. I did spend a little while with her, finding out that she was heading to Singapore for a seminar on Asian fashion trends.

Overall, it was eye-opening, Especially the number of times I felt a touch on my arm, or leg, or hip. The last time I’d been touched that many times was with an economy class full of genuine twinks heading for the Sydney Mardi Gras. After that particular flight, one of the girls had commented on how good it had been. I now realised that it was because no-one had bothered her.

Belle and I worked well together, and it was a group of happy, rich, people who were ordered to put their seat upright and prepare for landing. We had to go around and check that the seat was firm, and that the seatbelts were connected. Some of this type of person considered that rules didn’t apply to them. I had one, younger, chap who hadn’t buckled his seatbelt. When I reached in to find the far part of the belt, the devil kissed me on the cheek, then smiled and reached for it himself. What could I do? It wasn’t done to make a scene, so I just gave him my brightest smile.

“Thank you, sir, you naughty boy. I hope that you have a good time in Singapore.”

“No, Jamie. I’m going all the way, with you – to Sydney.”

“That’ll be nice, I’ll make sure that I don’t get too close, again.”

I sat with Belle on the pull-downs as we landed and watched as they all unbuckled and reached for their bags as we taxied to the terminal. Belle patted me on the arm.

“Jamie, you’ve done well. Not only with the way you’ve worked, but also with the way you interacted with the passengers. I expect that this has made you realise how different the job is when you’re a woman.”

“You bet! I haven’t been touched so many times since my mother stopped giving me baths. Except for that Mardi Gras trip when my butt was black and blue. It’s been odd, though. It’s the way they want to actually talk to you that gets to me. As a bloke, you’re just a servant, but, as a girl, you’re a person. I’ve seen the girls chatting to customers and wondered about whether they’re wasting time, but now I’ve experienced it, I know that you can’t help but be friendly.”

“We’ll see if you’ve fully taken that in when we do the next leg. There are some who go to Sydney from Singapore who are a bit more forward in talking to us.”

“I’ve never had to bother with those ones back in economy, where normal people sit.”

At the Changi terminal, we were connected to the airbridge and opened the cabin door. As usual, the first and business class passengers were allowed out, as I stood, with Belle and Cynthia, wishing them well as they left. Some would be back, including the devil who had kissed me. We stayed, in place, as the plane slowly emptied, sending a river of relieved people up to the transit lounge or customs and the baggage claims.

We would be on the ground for two hours, while the aircraft was cleaned. Usually, I would spend time in the crew quarters, for a shower and a change if needed. Our bags would be sent there as a matter of course. Cynthia held us back until all the other girls were assembled, even after the flight crew had left. She complimented everyone on a good job, with minimal numbers, as well as getting me changed for the second half. This puzzled the girls in business class, as they had only seen a new girl pass through their section. One came over and gave me a hug, telling me that I had been brave, doing what I did, but that she would have never known that I was anything but a genuine stewardess.

When we got to the crew quarters, my case wasn’t anywhere to be seen! I asked the logistics manager, and he told me that according to his computer, because it still had the stickers on from my previous trip, it was now sitting in the crew lounge in L.A. I then asked the company supply officer what clothes he had in the stores, only to find that they had no men’s clothing at all, there not being a call for them. They did have plenty of the women’s outfits, though.

I went and spoke to Cynthia, telling her what I had found out. She dragged me back to the supply officer and ordered him to issue me with two blouses, two skirts, two dresses, half a dozen tights, bras, and panties. Also, two pairs of flats and two pairs of heels in my size. She then added a crew jacket, my size, and a new roller case to fit my things in.

I was sent to the shower, so that I could dress in clean things and give back what I had borrowed. In the shower area, I saw myself as I now looked for the first time in a big mirror. It stopped me in my tracks. With the make-up and my hairstyle, there was a new Jamie Lee standing there. I couldn’t believe that this girl was me, but then realised that it must have been, seeing that the entire first-class had accepted me as a girl.

Moyra came in while I stood and gave me a big hug before she unzipped me.

“See, Jamie. You’re even pretty in that dress, and your legs look great. I’ll give you a hand to get ready for the next leg, then we’ll go and get some food. When we get to Sydney, we’ll get some sleep, then we’ll go shopping. Then you’re taking me for dinner.”

“It will have to be a threesome, then, seeing that Belle has already told me that she knows a place where two girls in dresses won’t look out of place dining together.”

“I think I know the place she spoke about. You go and get showered, here’s a plastic bag for the clothes. You keep the tights, and Wanda doesn’t want her undies back, just her dress and shoes.”

She watched as I stripped off, dropping the dress and shoes into the bag, and putting the tights with my new things. She then gave me a bottle of make-up remover and told me to use it before I got wet, and to use all the things I will find in the shower.

I had a good wash, under the warm water, ridding my body of any left-over smell. The shampoo and conditioner was a long way from what I usually used, and it left my hair feeling silky. I dried myself, wondering how my future would play out. I was now forced to fly the leg to Sydney as a stewardess. I suppose that I could go out and buy some male clothes while I was in Sydney, but I knew that the company stores there didn’t carry male outfits, as they had told me that once before. So, wherever I went after that, it would have to be as a woman, seeing that this was the only uniform I had. I just hoped that some from this flight would be there with me.

When I came out of the shower, towel wrapped around me, Cynthia and Belle were waiting to get me properly fitted out to carry on. Belle had borrowed my card from my wallet and bought me a black handbag and some cosmetics from the duty-free, so I now had more to worry about. Together, we reassembled the female Jamie, a lot more carefully this time. When I looked in the mirror, even I could see the difference, and thanked them for their expertise. Together we went to eat, and then sat and rested until we were called on to go back on duty.

During that time, I found out that Cynthia, Moyra, Belle, Wanda, and I were having the two days in Sydney, and were then back on duty, on a flight that took us to Tokyo, and then on to Hawaii. My promised four days had gone by the wayside. We would then have a day off, before going from Hawaii to L.A. and then back to London. Cynthia said that if the virus was still circulating, we may only get a couple of days at home, as long as we didn’t catch it.

When we were ready for the trip, with my new roller case packed with my new clothes and sent back to the plane, I put my new handbag, with my papers in it, into the flight case, and we walked back to our workplace. There I had a shock. My father was the Captain on this flight!

I stood with Belle waiting for the economy to fill up before the business and first-class passengers were called. I watched my father, standing with Cynthia, as they welcomed everyone on board. Then I heard Belle whisper.

“You can serve the flight crew on this leg, Jamie. It will be interesting to hear what your father has to say when he sees you in a dress.”

Marianne Gregory © 2024