I take off my flight crew uniform now when I finish work – I don’t feel safe in it

theguardian.com:

Warm, wet vomit is trickling down my leg. It looks like the contents of an airline kids’ meal. Bits of pasta, chicken nuggets, and what appears to be the dribbly remnants of a chocolate bar. I’ve already taken my seat for landing, so there’s nowhere for me to go when the child next to me starts to empty the contents of his stomach as the plane makes its final descent. When the wheels touch down, vomit is running down the aisle like that chocolate river in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

The flight had already been delayedbefore takeoff, leaving us stewing in the blistering heat of the runway for over an hour, so the smell of half-digested bolognese really adds insult to injury. “Are you going to do anything about that?” a passenger asks me in disgust.

Once you’ve been vomited on enough, it really does kill the self-esteem. I don’t have children, but I think if one of my kids projected body fluids on to a total stranger, I might at least offer them some hand sanitiser. But the parents make no such gesture.

This is just the latest merry example of what it is to be cabin crew in 2022. I am seemingly responsible for every bad experience passengers have had so far with this airline. You put on the uniform and accept the role. It’s a lot like acting; during this particular incident, I have to act like I don’t want to jump out the window. “Yes, of course,” I say. I bend my leg, so the chunks of vomit slide off on to the floor. “I’ll send for the cleaners right now.”

Passengers are particularly tense in this summer of travel chaos, and in my cabin crew uniform, I am the physical embodiment of all their flying woes. The frustration of lost bags, delays, and cancelled flights is heightened by the holidays lost to Covid. They’d