draft...

This is a draft of the proposed story concept that I included in my paper for my Discourses of Cultural Production class. The paper is about the discrimination of gays and lesbians in the Philippines.

G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S, yeah! I sang to myself as I lip-synched my favorite song. I still can’t believe it, out of all the applicants who joined the program, I was one of the few who was chosen to be the airline’s newest flight attendants. Though the secretary probably didn’t notice, I was going insane with joy and anticipation. My feet shuffled about as if it wanted to leave me!
“Ryan Angeles? Mrs. Marasigan will see you now.”

At last! I shouted to myself. Even though it was just a few minutes, it felt like an eternity. As I walked inside the office, I saw who I thought at a glance was Gloria Diaz. Though some of her hair had turned grey, this woman exuded so much radiance that I felt so small. “So this must be Mrs. Evelyn Marasigan,” I whispered to myself.

“Come in, sit down,” she told me. And I did so without hesitation.

“You’re a very lucky man, Mr. Marasigan. You are the first and only male flight attendant ever to be accepted in Platinum Airlines.

Only I seemed to know the comedic irony in her words. It was true that I was the first and only non-female flight attendant in the airlines even though it had been months since they expanded their search for FAs due to the lack of female applicants. However, I am not a man, not fully at least, in essence.

The day went on as Mrs. Marasigan briefed me of my duties and responsibilities as a flight attendant. Though I already memorized the FAs manual from cover to cover, I was still obliged to listen. My first duty was to cater the business class of flight 108. Mrs. Marasigan told me that it wasn’t protocol for new FAs to handle business class as the company felt it necessary to showcase their new… I think her term was “prodigy,” but I felt the word “guinea pig” suited it better.

My first day went like a breeze and as the days passed by, I felt more and more confident. Days turned to weeks, and weeks into months. Sure enough, my enthusiasm with my job soon fell off, yet I was still happy because I was far better off working here than there at the call center. “How boring,” I thought to myself, as I reminisce on how uneventful my life had been, until I met Stephan. Stephan regularly went to Palawan for business trips. And since there were only two airlines that flew there, we often saw him in ours. My co-workers were clearly head over heels with him. I can practically hear their giggles coming from the economy class! But I have to admit that even I fancied him. I mean what’s not to like? Silky black hair you’d want to stroke, a beautiful smile, lips you’d want to kiss, and tight clothes that hinted muscular abs.

Stephan usually sat opposite my aisle so I pretty much see how the senior FA desperately tried to flirt with him. How she managed to pull her skirt up a little higher even though her stomach forbade it is a thing of sheer wonder. Honestly, the guy would just pass up on her even if she showed her legs. So, imagine my surprise when I found him sitting along my aisle. God, he was even more gorgeous when he was smiling at me from ten inches away. Alas, my brain knew that it was only a dream to score someone as hot as him, he’s straight. I saw him flew a few times with a woman in tow. Damn you brain, couldn’t even let me enjoy the moment… But wait, what is this? I saw a letter on the tissue paper placed underneath Stephan’s glass! It’s his phone number! I tried to snap back to reality. Did he miss the part where I was not a woman? Impossible, I’m wearing pants, the girls wear skirts. I’m wearing long-sleeved polo, and they’re wearing short-sleeved blouses with scarves! Immediately glanced back towards Stephan. Oh my God he winked! He winked AT me, ME! I was in cloud nine! But my heaven lasted only a minute when I suddenly realized that my next assignment was two months in Zamboanga. I nearly wept on the spot. I hated my life. I’m not gay being gay…

Two months had passed, and I was back to my regular duty. I was supposed to be happy to be back on this flight, but news reached my ears that Stephan had not boarded this flight for the past five weeks. He must’ve finished whatever thing he had been doing. Or maybe he felt embarrassed for taking a chance with me, maybe he thought the reason I didn’t call him was I was straight! In truth, I didn’t call him because I was shy. I was going through my itinerary when I suddenly saw him! He was seated along my aisle. Again he smiled with those gorgeous lips. “This is my chance.” I said to myself. So, I took no more chances. As soon as the plane arrived, I quickly went down to grab my stuff. He was still at the luggage area when I arrived near the exit. He was picking up his backpack when I leaned down and said “Hi.” He looked up and smiled. “My name is Ryan,” I felt my voice shiver. “Stephan,” he said.

Even before our hands shook, rode the taxi together, arrived at his hotel room, we both seemed to know what was in store for us that night – wild, passionate sex. We spent the next three days in his hotel room, barely leaving except to eat. Those three days were absolute nirvana. But like all good things, it had to come to an end. He was finished with his business here, and that that was the last time he would probably visit the Philippines again. I felt sad, but somehow relieved for I knew that the other FAs would crucify me if they ever found out that I had slept with their dream “guy.”

I never had a real friend in the company but as the days passed by, the other FAs became odd. They seemed irritated at me for no reason at all. I didn’t know why until I was called to Mrs. Marasigan’s office. She grilled me on how, even though it was not the company’s concern to meddle with my personal life, I should try and restrain myself from getting too comfortable with the passengers. It seemed that one of the FAs was spreading rumors that I was prostituting myself to the male passengers, and that Stephan was one clients I “seduced.” I was enraged with anger when I heard that, but Mrs. Marasigan consoled me. It felt good not to have someone judge you.

I busied myself with work so that I didn’t have to worry what the other FAs were talking about behind my back. My ears were already calloused from the discrimination of the masses. I was hoping that one day, they would simply get tired of gossiping about me. Unfortunately that day never came. Today the flight ran low of Cussler, a particular brand of whiskey served on the business class. The senior FA and I both received an order, but there was only one bottle left.

“Can I have the last Cussler, sis?” I politely asked the senior FA.

“My passenger is a regular, and I would hate to say we ran out.” Trying to add a reason aside from admitting that it has been months since the last time I had a real conversation with the girls.

“Sorry sis,” she said, already with a tone leading to a putrid dialogue about to erupt.

“I took it first. Maybe you can just give him a blowjob, it would probably be about the same cost of this --. She didn’t have time to finish her sentence. My hand didn’t let her. I saw the senior FA try to flex the muscles on her somehow-distorted face. Then I thought, I’d probably get fired after this, but I didn’t care.

As soon as the plane landed, the senior FA and I were called to Mrs. Marasigan’s office. She went in first. I could hear her cries for the whole 30 minutes that she was in there. My turn came, and it was what I expected. Mrs. Marasigan was pacing about, most erratically. I hear the words “almost fired, thankful, demoted, and economy class” but I couldn’t force myself to care. This day seemed so surreal…

I spent the next few months serving the passengers at the Economy Class. I see why they considered switching classes as a promotion or demotion. The people here were rowdier and tips were out of the question. I felt a little happier though. It was a lot more fun observing people as they seemed more real than those in the business class. But more than that, I was just glad to be free from the memories of the Business Class It was time to move on.

Time passed with ease except for the one time that I accidentally broke one of the arm rests. I guess it wasn’t built to be stepped on by male FAs. But what was I to do when I couldn’t reach the mobile phone on the far end of the compartment. The man who supposed to seat there had to be transferred to the business class for free. Of course, it had to be deducted from my salary.

Today’s flight started routinely enough. However, by the time the plane reached half of its destination, a commotion started to erupt at the business class. Normally I would just ignore it since I didn’t want to be anywhere near that area. But my passengers were starting to get concerned. I peeked from behind the curtain that separates the two sections of the plane, and I saw a Korean couple having a fight. The seatbelt sign was off so they were both standing up. The senior FA was having trouble communicating with the Koreans, and the Koreans were having trouble understanding her.

The senior FA was between the angry couple, desperately trying to calm them down. All of a sudden, the husband slapped the senior FA. It was loud enough that the people behind me heard it too. The senior FA fell on the floor. Her cheek was almost crimson red, the side of her mouth was bleeding, and she was shaking in fright. I, on the other hand, got mad. I know the senior FA and I weren’t what you can call friends, but I had to stand up for her. I shoved the Korean man back; he stumbled back onto an empty chair. I saw his eyes get smaller with rage, and then suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my abdomen. As I looked down, I see a ball pen sticking out of my body. It took me a whole second to realize it was not supposed to be there. Everything seemed to slow down after that. I saw some of the women shouting in terror. I also saw the Air Marshall finally arriving from the back of the economy class. And then, everything went black.

“Hoy, gumising ka na!” I heard myself talking to me. So I forced myself to wake up. Unfortunately I failed, releasing some built up gas instead. And so, I tried again. This time, I was able to open my eyes. To my surprise, some of the FAs were there, and they were all covering their noses…

I learned that I was rushed to the hospital the moment the plane made the emergency landing. The Korean had his passport suspended indefinitely. I also learned that the senior FA spent the past two days watching over me. I was shocked to learn that the ballpen came just a few inches away from hitting a major artery near my heart.

A week of recuperation passed, and it was finally time for me to go back to work. Mrs. Marasigan was more than happy to see me. After a few minutes of idle chit-chat, she finally came to her point. Given to what happened to me, the airline sued the Korean and the Korean settled. Part of the deal was to pay for my hospitalization amounting to a little more than 200,000 pesos, pay damages caused to the airlines with the scandal amounting to a million, and never again fly with our airline company. As for me, I was offered a promotion, to be returned to the business class, and the “anything you wish” speech just to stay working for the airline. I accepted the promotion, I could always use the extra money, but I declined the offer to return to the business class. I was happy where I am. As for the anything I wished…

A week later, my wish finally arrived. It was my new uniform. It still had the airline colors of sky blue and white, but the slacks fitted my rather slender legs this time. The long-sleeved polo was changed to a long-sleeved blouse similar to that of the girls. And of course, the scarf. So here I am, back on the plane, doing the same old thing: serving food and drinks at the economy class, but I am happy, strutting along in my new uniform, lip-synching to my favorite song, G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S, yeah!