Planespotting in College Park
Trick or Trunk-or-Treat

Not a Flight Attendant


"Hello. You have reached Hannah's phone and I am not a flight attendant." 

For a long time, this was the voicemail greeting on my mobile phone. Friends and family thought it was an odd joke, referring to my fascination with the Atlanta airport. But it wasn't a joke; it was a friendly warning to all the flight attendants who leave me long, detailed voicemails about switching flights. The screenshots above are two recent examples of the coded messages that mistakenly land in my phone on a regular, perhaps monthly basis. 

I have been receiving these calls, voicemails, and now text messages, for as long as I have had this phone number. Now that I think about it, it's been 10 years.

I don't know why they call me. My best guess is that my phone number is one digit away from that of a veteran flight attendant named Collette. As I listen to their mysterious jargon, it feels like I accidentally tuned into this frequency just by living so close to the airport.

Wrong numbers are kind of funny. Repeated wrong numbers are annoying. But these calls have been going on for a decade now. They have become a tiny part of my life. My own peripheral peek into the aviation industry. I might even miss them if they stopped.


Todd C

Just start texting back "I can't...I just can't I just found out I was pregnant with twins and I don't know who the father is."

Then just sit back and imagine what they're gossiping about when the plane is taking off or when they're getting those carts ready with the overpriced drinks.

I'm horrible like that sometimes.

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