An airline pilot announced over the intercom, “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. We’ve reached our cruising altitude of 33,000 feet, and it looks like we’re going to be right on time. Thank you for flying with us.” Then, wrongly believing he had switched off his microphone, said, “Take the wheel, will ya, Jim? I’m gonna go take a dump and then screw that new stewardess!” The stewardess heard this and ran to the cockpit to inform the captain that the microphone was still on. Halfway up the aisle, she tripped, and fell flat on her face. A sweet little old lady leaned over her and said softly, “What’s the hurry, hon’? He said he was gonna take a dump first!”

A guy sitting in the Atlanta airport bar couldn’t ignore the beautiful woman sitting nearby. “She must be a flight attendant,” he thought, “so gorgeous. But which airline?” He leaned over and uttered the Delta slogan, “Love to fly and it shows?” She gave him a blank, confused stare. Hmm, not Delta. Maybe American? “Something special in the air?” She gave the same confused look. Not American. United? “I’d love to fly your friendly skies.” The woman had had enough. “What the f*?k do you want?” The man smiled. “Ah. Air France!”

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? Airplane! (Don’t Call Me Shirley! Edition)

All the passengers were onboard the small, third-world, puddle-jumping, commuter plane waiting for take-off. The stewardess assured them that their pilots will arrive soon; they were “delayed on another flight.” Eventually, two uniformed men wearing dark glasses entered the plane. One used a guide dog, while the other tapped his way into the cockpit with his white cane. Nervous laughter spread through the cabin as the passengers glanced around, nervously searching for some sign that this was just a practical joke. No explanation was forthcoming. The plane taxied into position, then rolled down the runway, faster and faster, until the people near the windows realized they were nearing the end of the runway. Panicked screams filled the cabin, but suddenly the plane lifted off and rose smoothly into the sky. The passengers relaxed and laughed sheepishly. In the cockpit, the co-pilot said to the pilot, “You know, Bob, one of these days they’re gonna scream too late and we’re all gonna die!”

My flight was being served by an obviously gay flight attendant, who seemed to put everyone in a good mood as he served us food and drinks. As the plane prepared to descend, he came swishing down the aisle and told us that “Captain Marvey has asked me to announce that he’ll be landing the big scary plane shortly, so lovely people, if you could just put your trays up, that would be super.”
On his trip back up the aisle, he noticed this well-dressed and rather Arabic looking woman hadn’t moved a muscle. “Perhaps you didn’t hear me over those big brute engines but I asked you to raise your trazy-poo, so the main man can pitty-pat us on the ground.”
She calmly turned her head and said, “In my country, I am called a Princess and I take orders from no one.”
To which (I swear) the flight attendant replied, without missing a beat, “Well, sweet-cheeks, in my country I’m called a Queen, so I  outrank you. Tray-up, Bitch.”