SRU: The High Life free porn video

SRU: The High Life by Bailey Thayer PART ONE: The Purchase "Seattle," I thought. "That's where I'll go. I don't know what to expect when I get there, but it's as good a place as any." You didn't get to be a mid-level manager in a business like insurance without being decisive, and I didn't care that I hadn't researched it. I just wanted to be some place other than Tampa Florida for a while. Work had become a chore and I was starting to come out of the depression that followed my divorce last year. She got half the assets and I didn't have to pay alimony because she had immediately married. She married the guy two weeks after the divorce was final. The sneaky bitch; I knew she had been sleeping with him all along. I just knew it. By most accounts though, I got off easy. I should have been happy, but... well, who cares now? Not I. Not much. Okay, well still some. That's why I wanted a vacation. So I turned off the car, pulled the keys from the ignition, climbed out, tossed the door closed, and walked into the mall. "Closed?" I said aloud. I couldn't believe it. The travel agency had closed. I really liked that agency. Jenn, the owner, always found me great deals and knew of places off the beaten path to visit. I was used to going into her with a vague idea and seeing what she could do. "I wonder where Jenn has gone?" I wandered into the shop next door to ask. Upon entry, I was taken aback by the shop's ambiance. A Persian rug, incense, dusty tapestries, and heavy books all shared a room with x-ray glasses, an extra large deck of cards, two-headed coins, and other cheap gimmicks. Was that a skull with a candle on it? "It came from a shoplifter, Tim, or at least that's what I tell the kids." An older man in a bathrobe had spoken. I hadn't noticed him until he said something. The man continued, "Looking for the travel agency?" "Err, yes, I am," I said, "and how do you know my name, and what I'm thinking?" The old man calmly replied, "It's written on your name tag -- Tim Dillon -- and you were staring at the skull." "I'm not wearing a...." as I looked down, I saw a adhesive paper name tag on the right front of my shirt. "... Oh, I guess I am." I couldn't fathom where that might have come from. I must have worn this shirt to a convention in the past, or something. I slowly pealed the name tag from my clothing, wadded it up, and looked for a place to dispose of it. "Do you know where Jenn has gone?" I asked. The old man replied, "She told me the Internet had stolen her business. Too many customers were buying cheap tickets online, rather than coming to her shop." "That's a shame," I remarked. "Oh don't worry, Jenn's okay. You could say she has a whole new life now." The old man glanced off to the left with a slight smile. "Perhaps I can help. What kind of vacation do you want?" "How did you know I wanted to take a vacation?" I asked, shocked. But just when I thought this guy must be some kind of wizard, he said, "Because you were looking for a travel agent." "Oh yes, of course." I laughed a little. "I was thinking of flying out to Washington and seeing Seattle. Jenn always knew of other things to see..." The old man lit a pipe and thought for a moment. He seemed to be sizing me up. I continued, "... and she always had good prices." The old man eventually responded, "Obviously I'm not a travel agent. What I can offer you would be more of an adventure than a trip, and perhaps a bit of an investment if you really like to travel." The old man reached under the counter and pulled out a small black box. It reminded me of a box that a piece of jewelry might come in. He pushed it towards me on the counter. I reached out, grabbed it, and opened it. Inside was a set of wings that you could pin to your clothing. An airline pilot might wear such wings on his uniform. I laughed. Clearly the old man was joking. The old man smiled. "I'm not joking. These are investment I'm confident you'll use a lot." I laughed some more. The old man continued, "They work like this: you put them on and suddenly you're an airline employee. You can travel like the airline employee. That is, you can fly space available, and you automatically upgrade to a first class seat if there's one open." "Riiiight," I said enjoying the joke. "It's no joke. I'm completely serious. This is a magic shop, and this, sir, is magic. And so is that." The old man pointed to my chest. Again, on my shirt, was an adhesive paper name tag, and this time it said, "World Traveler." I wasn't laughing any more. This old man was good. "Let's say these wings do as you say, how much?" The old man seemed to size me up some more. He took a long draw on his pipe, exhaled a smoke ring, and finally said, "They run ten thousand dollars. Think of it like this, they're the last airline ticket you'll ever need to buy." If he would have set the price at 20 bucks I would have known it was a joke. You get what you pay for. Yet this was serious money. He had a point, if they worked like he said, I could fly any where for free. I countered, "Two thousand." "Oh no, sir. I've got too much invested in them to let them go so cheap. Let's say eight thousand. It is a bargain at that price," he said. "I can't go that high. I can give you four thousand. It's all I've got to spare," I lied. A slight smile crossed the old man's face again, "I have a more limited set of wings I can give you for six thousand." "I can't pay six grand. How are they limited?" "You cannot wear these wings for more than 24 hours above 5,000 feet, or there are side effects," he replied. I thought about it for a few moments. That didn't seem limiting. No airplane was going to be in the air for 24 hours, even on a long flight to Asia. I finally asked a series of questions, "What are the side effects, what if the wings don't work as you say, and I don't know anything about being a pilot so how do I pass for one?" The old man replied without delay, "When you put on the wings you're assuming another identity. If you stay in that identity above 5,000 feet for more than 24 hours it becomes permanent, and while you're in that identity, you enjoy the knowledge and skills associated with whatever role the identity plays. Simply pack for your trip, pin the wings to your clothing, and you will assume a new identity -- an employee of an airline -- and you can travel as they would. Oh, and if they don't work, I'll return your money, plus pay for your trip to Seattle. I stand behind my products to work as I say they will." As I thought about all that, the old man eventually said, "Okay, four thousand it is." He pulled a similar box from under the counter, opened it, and spun it around to face me. Inside I saw another set of wings, identical in appearance to the first set. I fished my credit card out of my wallet, paid, thanked the man, and left the mall. I knew if the wings didn't work I could dispute the charge on my credit card, but if they did work, four grand was a great deal for a lifetime of free flights. PART TWO: Discovery Upon returning home to my apartment, I tuned to the travel channel on the television in the living room. They were featuring destinations in India. While the TV yammered on, I removed the wings from their box and looked at them in detail. I couldn't guess at the airline. Which would it be? I removed the two little clips on the back to reveal the pins, pushed the pins through my shirt on the left side of my chest, held them in place with my left hand, and then reached inside my shirt with my right hand to put the clips back on the pins. Immediately I felt strange. Just one second later I couldn't believe my eyes. I brushed a stray tendril of blonde hair out of the way of my vision and peered down at two substantial mounds on my chest. My mouth dropped open in a gape. Gone was my white short-sleeve shirt, replaced by a navy blue long-sleeved... dress? I reached down with my right hand and clutched the hem of the dress hanging just above my knees. It was a dress! "No way," was all I said. I needed a mirror. There was one in the bathroom. I took one, maybe two, steps and tumbled to the ground. I could feel the weight of my chest shift forward as I fell. I lay on the ground, stunned. More blonde tendrils surrounded my vision like a curtain. I landed mostly on left boob and it hurt. I slowly sat up in a not-so lady-like manner. I was wearing heels. No wonder I fell - I tripped over a chair leg. It could happen to anyone. I had worn heels for years and knew to watch my step around bricks, street grates, well-polished floors, and... Wait a second, since when did I know anything about wearing heels? "The old man was right," I said to myself. "I do know how to act in this identity. My name is Meagan Hartley. I'm 23 years old. I've been a flight attendant with United Airlines for 2 years." It was disorienting to be in a different body with a separate life, not to mention a different gender. If I would have known at the time of purchase, I wouldn't have gone through with the deal, but sitting here on the floor as a woman, I was intrigued. It could prove to be the ultimate vacation. How often can you be somebody else? As I looked around the room, I noticed it too was different. My home office had become a sewing room, complete with a small collection of embroidered pillows. I stood up - gracefully - dusted off my dark pantyhose, tossed my blonde tresses behind my shoulders, and walked to the bedroom to look at myself in my full mirror. It was the same apartment, but it now had furnishings appropriate for Meagan, not Tim. Gazing into the mirror, I couldn't help but be amazed. I gently corralled my blonde bangs into place and smoothed my still somewhat disheveled hair. I adjusted the silk navy blue scarf around my neck. There were gold buttons on my sleeves and the navy blue sheath dress had gold piping along the seams. It was definitely a uniform, but functional and comfortable. The fabric stretched a little when I moved, and also showed off my figure. I pushed up on my boobs a bit, trying to show a little cleavage. I could tell my bra was padded a bit, and I could feel lace trim through the fabric. I pulled out the collar a little and looked inside. "Hmm, black lingerie." I pulled up my dress, rolled down my hose a bit and confirmed with satisfaction my satin panties matched my bra. A girl should be coordinated. I restored my hose to its appropriate position and straightened the lines going down the back of my legs, then I smoothed the dress back down, and returned to my self examination: narrow waist, ample hips, butt, and gorgeous legs. I must have spent five minutes primping and preening in front of the mirror. I had a killer figure. My lipstick needed a slight refresh because I had been licking my lips a bit, but the rest of my makeup was perfect. I felt delicious. "Coffee, tea, or me," I offered seductively to the mirror, posed, then laughed. Then I got serious. As fun as it was to look at myself in the privacy of my own apartment, could I actually function out in the world like this? It occurred to me to check my drivers license and look for credentials. I almost reached towards a back pocket for my wallet, but at that instant recalled that my purse was sitting on the table by the front door. I walked to the door, found my purse, opened my wallet and found my driver's license, passport, and a lanyard with my employee ID. They checked out. "Yep, I'm Meagan. And now..." I held the wings in place with my left hand, reached under my dress past a bra strap, and undid the first clip. "I'm Tim," I said as I quickly reformed into my original identity. Amazing. For a shop keeper, the old man wasn't much of a haggler. It's weird, but I see the possibilities. Now, to plan this out. Two weeks later I had done a fair bit of research, mostly by reading, and rereading Meagan's -- my -- employee handbook. Meagan was already proficient, of course, but it helped me overcome my nerves to practice. "Ladies and gentlemen, as we start our descent, please make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position. Make sure your seat belt is securely fastened and all carry-on luggage is stowed underneath the seat in front of you or in the overhead bins. Please turn off all electronic devices until we are safely parked at the gate. Thank you." I also spent time figuring out how Tim's life translated into Meagan's. As I lived and worked as Tim, Meagan did as well. If I took vacation as Tim, so did Meagan. As I accrued vacation as Tim, so did Meagan. I assumed that if I worked as Meagan, Tim's life would progress as well. I had bought an alternate identity. This was amazing. I vowed to someday return to the magic shop and shake the wizard's hand, or maybe kiss him on the cheek, depending on who I was at the time. PART THREE: Winging to Washington Meagan's experience told me that the best chances to catch a space available seat were very early and very late in the day. Meagan also knew that while Seattle might be warm in fall, it might also be rainy or cold out on the ocean or on a ferry. I packed mostly warm things and set the alarm for an early rise. I awoke to the alarm, showered, ate a quick breakfast, and dressed in warm clothing as Tim. That way when I took the wings off, I wouldn't be in Florida attire. Finally I attached the wings and became Meagan, in uniform, and ready to go. I quickly checked the contents of my carry-on, and found Tim's things had transformed into Meagan's things, just like I expected. I was ready to go. As I left my apartment and was locking the door, Sherry, my neighbor feigned a sigh and teased, "So the glamorous Meagan is jet-setting around the world, again, and I have to go answer the telephone all day." I smiled and replied, "I'll bring you back something from the Taj Mahal." I arrived at the Tampa International Airport and parked in employee parking. That was perk number one: no parking fees. Fantastic. After a quick shuttle ride I entered the Landside Terminal with my wheeled carry-on in tow behind me. My two-inch black heels made a noticible clack-clack-clack as I walked, which embarrassed me. I adjusted the strap on my purse which was slowly sliding off my shoulder and continued. I arrived at the United counter, fished out my lanyard with my employee ID, swiped it through the security scanner, and as the lock buzzed I pushed through the door into the employee area. I stood just inside the door and pulled my lanyard over my head so my ID would be displayed clearly. I was a little nervous, but I don't think it showed. I needed to find a computer. I approached the first computer I saw, logged in, registered my intent to fly space available to Washington Dulles International Airport, which was a United hub. There would be lots of flights out of there, and lots of flights from Tampa to there. Now I started to look for a flight. The early flight had filled up, but a later flight to Washington had room. United Airlines Flight 424 TPA to IAD, Depart 8:45am, Arrive 11:02am. Perfect. I had an hour before the gate would be staffed, so I decided to take my carry-on in tow, get through security, and then relax in the concourse. Since I wasn't assigned to a flight crew at the moment, I had to go through the regular security process. That was company policy. It was all part of being seen. It was also company policy to fly space available in uniform, so luckily I wouldn't be perceived oddly by my co- workers for wearing my wings. I placed my carry-on on the conveyor, then kicked off my pumps and put them into a bin on the conveyor. The stone floor radiated air-conditioned cold through my pantyhose to my bare feet as I walked through the metal detector. I expected the alarm to chirp as I passed, and it did. TSA pulled me off to the side. As the woman went over me with the wand, it chirped at my earrings, bracelet, ring, lanyard clip, and my underwire bra. I was through, so I stepped into my pumps and once again marched off with my carry-on rolling behind me. I headed to Airside E, gate 70. Since I was there early, I fished out my Harlequin romance novel to kill some time. Wait, a romance novel? Tim had packed a spy novel. Oh right, it changed. Luckily so had my taste in books. Eventually a man arrived at Gate 70 and the electronic sign behind him sparked to life: Washington Dulles. I briefly waited in line, then showed the man my ID and told him I wanted to "space-A to Dulles." A moment later he handed me a boarding pass. As I waited to board, the flight crew keyed into the gate and began down the ramp to the plane. I recognized Susan and she waved me over to the gate door. "Flying with us today, Meagan?" she said. "Yes, I'm hopping to space-A to Seattle, or well, anyplace. I'm a little tired of Tampa." "Cool. Come on down and chat with us. You don't need to wait on boarding. Matt, check Meagan in, okay?" So I went with the crew down to the plane. They worked. I helped with the preparation a little, but mostly watched. We joked a bit and had some company chit-chat about benefits. When boarding started, I took my seat in the back. There weren't any better seats open, so I was flying coach. There was another flight attendant along flying deadhead. Her domicile (hub) was Washington Dulles, like me, and apparently she also lived in Tampa. I didn't know her. She was new. She had the spare jump seat, which is why I was in coach. I was excited to be traveling this way. Flying was fun, for once. As the crew began their pre-flight briefing, I mouthed along... "Ladies and gentlemen, the Captain has turned on the Fasten Seat Belt sign. If you haven't already done so, please stow your carry-on luggage underneath the seat in front of you or in an overhead bin. Please take your seat and fasten your seat belt. And also make sure your seat back and folding trays are in their full upright position." I giggled a little as we finished. The flight was uneventful. As I deplaned, I looked for an unmanned gate so I could use the computer. This was my domicile, so I knew generally knew how things fit together. I wanted to get to Denver, but nothing was open. Denver was another United hub, and there would be lots of flights into and out of there. I headed to the employee lounge to wait. Around noon I noticed the western states were having some weather and there were slight delays. That might create opportunities -- crews could get cutoff from where they needed to be. Yet it wasn't a delayed crew that gave me an opening. Nancy Young, a crew leader, approached me, "Hey Meagan, I hear you're looking to get out west?" "Yes, to Denver. Got an opening?" I asked. "Not to Denver, but close -- Colorado Springs. I'd have to convert you up because Lisa is out sick," Nancy said. That meant I'd have to work the flight. It wasn't all bad. This would count as a work day, not vacation. Colorado Springs was an easy drive to Denver if I couldn't catch a flight and who knows, maybe Tim would like to see Pike's Peak. "Okay, no problem, Nance. Which flight?" I asked. "Flight 6139, 7:00pm," she replied. "You've got an hour to get your girly on and be ready." She was right. I had spent hours in an airport. My hair needed combed, my makeup refreshed, and I needed to eat because there would be no time during the flight. We would be preparing the plane and I didn't know if it had arrived yet, or even what gate. I found a computer: United Airlines 6139 IAD to COS, Depart 7:00pm, Gate C7. Now to eat and then touch up my appearance. I worked my way through the crowd towards Wendy's to get a salad. Along the way, somebody pinched my butt, but when I turned around to spot the culprit, I couldn't tell who did it. There were just too many people. The nerve of some guys. It made me feel like a piece of meat, but I also felt sexy. I kind of liked it. I shrugged, quietly called myself a slut, giggled, and then continued on to Wendy's. After the salad, I fixed my hair and makeup in the ladies' room and rushed to the gate as best I could. In heels you cannot run. You have to kind of trot on your toes, especially when you're towing a bag behind you, but also because everything about you is in motion and it is not all headed in the same direction. Your hair shifts, your boobs jiggle, your earrings jingle, your purse bounces around, and if you're not careful you can step out of a shoe or your skirt could ride up your legs. After a good distance you probably have to pull down your skirt, slide a bra strap back up onto your shoulder, and redo your hair. Sometimes your skirt is so tight that you're hobbled and cannot run at all. If you try you'll probably rip the hem on the kick pleat. The best I could manage was a fast walk with the occasional four-step trot. PART FOUR: Debut I was the first member of the crew to get to the gate. There were passengers all around, many of them military. The flight was going to be full. I punched in the gate's code on the door's keypad, opened the door, and headed down to the plane. At the bottom of the ramp I cautiously stepped aboard. I had the plane to myself. I stowed my carry- on and then walked slowly down the aisle, looking around. Before too long I heard others approaching. It was Nancy and the rest of the crew. To prepare the plane I first went through the cabin picking up trash. The previous crew should have done that, but I knew sometimes they were in a hurry. We made a quick inventory of important equipment we needed, and then we went through our pre-flight safety list. Most people have no idea how much of our job is related to safety. After that was done we stowed the in-flight service carts for beverages as well as meals. It was to be a longer flight. I was impressed by how everything locked into place. It was a larger plane, but we still had only three flight attendants in the cabin crew. Nancy had reviewed the manifest and confirmed my suspicion that the flight was full. We were going to be busy. As passengers began to board I mostly spent my time assisting them with stowing their bags in the overhead compartments. I'm not sure why a 5'4" 110 pound girl like me is better at getting a large carry-on to fit than a 6'4" 300 pound dreamy hunk of soldier, but that's how it worked out sometimes. The aisle was very crowded, and when I needed to get by somebody I had no choice but to squeeze through, rubbing either my bust or my butt on somebody. When the passengers were mostly seated I passed through the cabin closing the overhead bin doors. Because I was small, I had to stand on my toes and really extend myself to reach the doors. This maneuver presented my breasts, hiked up my dress a bit, and made the heels of my feet lift up out of my pumps. I felt like I was on display. But that was nothing compared to my role in the safety demonstration. For that I had to wiggle my little butt up to the front of the cabin and go through the motions of the demonstration while Nancy cheerfully spoke into the microphone, "Now we request your full attention as the flight attendants demonstrate the safety features of this aircraft." I gave everyone a big smile and held up a seat belt assembly. "When the seat belt sign illuminates, you must fasten your seat belt. Insert the metal fittings one into the other, and tighten by pulling on the loose end of the strap. To release your seat belt, lift the upper portion of the buckle. We suggest that you keep your seat belt fastened throughout the flight, as we may experience turbulence..." The entire time, while showing how the seat belts work, how the oxygen masks work, where the emergency exits are, where to find the life vests, and where to find the safety cards, I had to maintain my bright smile and hope I didn't have lipstick on my teeth or that I had snagged my hose. And then, of course, were the hundred or so passengers. Most just read books or stared out the windows, but some watched the presentation. They watched me. Me! When a man smiles at you while you're giving a safety demonstration, does it mean anything? Did I push up against him in the aisle earlier trying to get by? I just felt so self-conscious, but also confident and... pretty. Yes, I suddenly realized what it was like for a woman to feel pretty. Men desired me, and I liked that. The plane was all set to push back from the gate when we got word there would be a 30 minute departure delay because of weather in the system. Take-offs and landings at western airports were being delayed, and that had a way of cascading through and effecting flights in the east. Eventually we took off. Early in the flight we served dinner and beverages. That meant Jeanne, my partner for serving the coach cabin, and I, had to push carts up and down the aisles, reaching over people to hand other people glasses or trays. Jeanne and I could point out the cute guys to each other with a subtle glance and a nod. Some men would flirt with me, and I'd reward them with a smile or a wink. When dinner service was complete, Jeanne and I retreated to our jump seats in the back of the plane. Occasionally one of us would have to rush back into the cabin to respond to a call button, but it was mostly quiet. Nancy had turned down the lights in the cabin and many passengers tried to sleep. This let us talk for a while. She asked where I was headed, and I said Seattle, or maybe I'd stay in Colorado Springs. Jeanne talked about a fantastic trip she had taken to Aspen to ski. We talked about that for 20 minutes, and at the end I was convinced that would be fun. Jeanne said our airline flew to Aspen from Denver, so if I could catch a hop to Denver I could probably get to Aspen on an early flight which was rarely full. As we got further West, we encountered turbulence, and weather forced the pilot to alter our route. We also got word the headwind was strong and that we weren't going to be able to make up any time. What was normally a three hour flight became four and a half hours when you include the departure delay. After we landed and the passengers had disembarked, we faced a mess. The extra time meant more beverage service and more trash in the cabin. What normally took 30 minutes, took an hour. Now in the concourse, I found the computer at gate 10 empty. I logged in and checked flights. Flight 6564 departed at 6:42am for Denver and it had vacancies. I printed the flight information: United Airlines 6564 COS to DEN, Depart 6:42am, Arrive 7:42am. Then I looked at the current time on the computer: 11:42pm. Counting the time difference between Tampa and Colorado Springs, I had been awake and on my feet for a long day. No wonder I was tired. Nancy, Jeanne, the pilots, and I shared a motel shuttle to the Hilton Garden Inn, where United had a deal. We were all too tired to see the town, and I couldn't have gone out with them anyways because changing clothes meant taking off the wings turning me back into Tim. I got into the room, set my carry-on on the luggage rack, sat down on the bed, kicked off my pumps and... ... and awakened to the sound of somebody slamming a door in the hall. "Shit, what time is it?" It was just after 5am. Boarding for my flight would be at 6:15am, and I still had to checkout, get to the airport, get approved to fly space available, get through security, get to the gate, and get a boarding pass. I had to move it. Now. I arrived at the City of Colorado Springs Municipal Airport and thanked God that it was a small place and that it was early in the morning. I got approval to fly, breezed through security and got to the gate with time to spare. I didn't know the flight crew and beyond some basic conversation. They assumed I was from the area and was deadheading to Denver to get to my hub. Otherwise they stayed mostly to themselves. That was great because I needed more sleep. The trip to Denver was uneventful. We got to Denver slightly ahead of schedule at 7:30am. I located a computer and checked flights. Perfect: United Airlines 6070 DEN to ASE, Depart 8:19am, Arrive 9:02am. It had seats available and it would be boarding in a few minutes. Even better, it was just a few gates away. I was feeling good, but my day took a turn for the worse. Flight 6070 was canceled because the aircraft needed repaired and the part had to be flown in. Passengers got priority over me and booked new flights to Aspen through the day. This filled up all of the flights until finally I found a seat on United 6276 to Aspen, Departing at 8:50pm. It was another long day, but at least I could hangout and sleep in the employee area. Finally, at 8:00pm, after twelve hours in the Denver International airport, I got to the gate and got my boarding pass. So much for the glamorous jet-set life. The lady running the gate let me swipe my ID to go down to the plane. The cabin crew was already at work. They were friendly and let me freshen up a bit in the bathroom before the passengers started to arrive. A pilot was here too. He was deadheading back to Aspen where he lived. His name was Devin and he was coming off a few days of being on reserve at the Chicago hub. During the flight Devin and I talked mostly about Aspen and skiing. I mentioned I was vacationing, and he gave me tips on where to stay and what to do. Devin was older, married and had a few kids. I was going to vacation as Tim, so I wasn't looking for a companion anyways. Later in the flight the conversation shifted to flying and how much work it was to maneuver the aircraft between destinations. I teased him, saying they just put it on autopilot and kicked back behind locked doors, while the flight attendants catered to every passenger's whim. PART FIVE: The Catch The airplane landed at Aspen-Pitkin County Airport. Devin offered me a ride into town. Before we walked to his car, I fished my belted trench coat out of my luggage. In the process of putting it on, the coat's lapel caught on my uniform's wings, popping off one of the tabs and dislodged the wings such that one side hung down. I gasped. I waited for my true body to be revealed, but it didn't happen. I didn't change back into Tim, which fortunately didn't blow my identity with Devin. Devin noticed my wings had dislodged and commented about how he hated when that happened. I laughed nervously, and reached into my dress to retrieve the tab and restore the wings to their correct place. While we talked during the drive into town, I was mostly quiet and distracted. I was both happy I wasn't revealed as Tim and confused why I remained as Meagan. Why didn't I change? Devin was about to drop me off at the Hotel Aspen, when he advised to take care if I went up in the mountains. It could be hard to breath at that altitude. I mustered a big smile for him, thanked him for the ride, and wished him well. I entered the hotel and fortunately didn't need a reservation to get a room. I managed to remain calm all the way to the room, where I quickly keyed in, dropped my bags, and stepped into the bathroom. I was shaking with fear. I fumbled with the clasps on the pin but managed to get them loose and removed the wings. I was still Meagan. I held the wings up to the mirror. "See? See?" I said as if I could appeal to a higher power. Nothing. I slumped into a seated position on the toilet lid, whimpering. I looked down at my shaven legs, emerging from my skirt, clad in pantyhose, and then started bawling. "Why?" I kept repeating. Eventually I calmed, took off my uniform, a wrapped myself up in bed just wearing my bra and panties. Thirty minutes later Devin's words resonated with me. He had warned me about it being harder to breath at a high altitude. The wings couldn't be worn above 5,000 feet for more than 24 hours. Could that be it? I stood up, washed my face so it wouldn't be obvious I had been crying, threw on some clothes from my bag, and went down to the lobby to find a computer. They had one in the bar. I Googled information about my travels and finally I understood. I had assumed altitude was relative to the ground, not sea level. In Tampa they're basically the same thing so I never thought anything about it. The long trip from Dulles to Colorado Springs would have been fine if I wouldn't have stayed in uniform the entire night in Colorado Springs. Add that to the whole day today including the long layover in Denver and it had been over 24 hours. All of these places were over 5,000 feet. I was to be Meagan Hartley, the perky little flight attendant, forever.