Pluggin The Ugly

Last night, I felt a funny bump in the pillow case. My thumb worked over the weird nubbin next to my ear. I was groggy. What the Hell?

I fished the object out, flipped on the light and stared at my palm. A pacifier?

Yep, some poor baby is missing his plug ugly.

Some enterprising hotel maid took a short cut.

Too damned tired to care, I pitched the rubber nipple on the bedside table and went to sleep.

The next morning, I'm working first class and the gals in the back keep calling. I don't like noise. I can't stand chimes. I'm like pavlov's dog, only instead of drooling when the bells are rung, my blood pressure shoots up and I morph from Fanny Friendly to Lunatic Lucy.

"What?" I bark into the handset.

"We have a situation."

Shit. We're moments from take off, I have glassware strewn about the galley and they have a situation. I doubt it. "Fine." I hang up the phone and stalk to the back. My gaze rakes over the flight attendants standing with folded arms and lands on a frustrated passenger in the last row. "So what's up?"

He glares at me and jerks his thumb at one of the girls. "You have to get rid of her, she's, she's ..."

"yes?"

"She's tantalizing me."

I bite the inside of my lip. "Tantalizing?" I ask.

"Yes," he nods, "tantalizing."

Oh crap. I give him a look. "Do you know the definition of tantalizing because it's miles away from tormenting?" From the corner of my eye I see the flight attendants jab each other. I ignore them. The bins are closed, the trays are up. Frustrated is buckled in. "We're done here."

Heading up the aisle, I wish I'd kept the pacifier.