On our day off in Bangkok, I soaked in the hotel pool with a fellow flight attendant I’d just met the day before. The small rooftop pool area was tightly wedged between neighboring high-rises but we still had some sun there. Some of the other buildings were lower, some taller than our hotel, with windows facing the pool and towards the city view beyond.
Feeling lazy, kicking my legs under water, I was thinking about ordering a fresh smoothie. My colleague was part of the Swedish half of our crew, and at fifty, quite a bit older than me. She looked absolutely gorgeous, in a natural way, and at least two decades younger than her age.
Used to this relaxed lifestyle, which kept her happy and young, she was telling me how she only worked half the year, the winters, so she could travel to warm places when it was cold in Sweden. The summers were for staying home in Sweden, maximizing her happiness.
She went on to tell me that she’d been married for a long time and being a flight attendant had only been good for their marriage, since she and her husband didn’t see enough of each other to get bored.
She seemed like a person who had found a way to lead a life perfect for her. Maybe that’s why I remember this conversation so well. Her happiness was contagious in that moment. For a moment I felt like I, too, could make anything happen. And I did.