I saw this link on Yahoo's front page and I couldn't resist making my first TRP post.

TL;DR : 26 yr old decides she wants an exciting life and becomes Virgin Atlantic Air Hostess, rides the CC, gets Widowed, and again, and again, finds BB, AWALT

https://www.yahoo.com/travel/parties-and-the-mile-high-club-a-flight-122958915792.html

This pretty much read exactly how you think it would.

I couldn’t believe what goes on thousands of feet in the air. More than once, I had a passenger slide his hand up my skirt when I was attending to the overhead compartment. And when the lights are dimmed on overnight flights, I’d see randy passengers masturbating while everyone else around them slept. Then there was the couple in the throes of passion who ran around upper-class buck naked. It was a lot to put up with, especially for my meager starting salary of 12,000 pounds (about $19,000) for my 1,000 flying hours a year.

Oh so you're about to complain about being harassed, that't natural to assume...

But it was so worth it.

Plot twist, really? Tell me more...

From the Caribbean to South Africa, I had a guy at every port.

Sounds like someone had fun.

Jonathan was flying me down to the Florida Keys in a two-seat Cessna when I decided to seize the moment. I climbed on top of him while he was flying and sealed the deal.

We had fun together, but my relationship with Jonathan didn’t last. He didn’t want to commit — and I had an endless supply of handsome, wealthy men at my disposal.

She gets her first taste of being widowed, but no worries, I'm sure your slutty ways will help you land someone else who feels up an air steward

In Gatwick Airport en route to Vegas, I met a dapper doctor — a Hugh Grant look-alike with a posh British accent — named Stephen. I was convinced I’d found my husband.

“I’m ready to settle down with a genuine girl,” he told me over a quiet dinner.

As we walked hand-in-hand to the hotel room, I could see myself marrying him, walking down the aisle as a doctor’s wife. We had a steamy night of amazing sex, but when I woke up the next morning, he was gone.

Ouch, looks like that one hurt

Soon after that, I decided the high-flying life wasn’t enough for me anymore. I was tired of the rich men buying me Hermès scarves and Manolos instead of making real connections. I wanted real love.

No honey, you were tired of being pumped and dumped....and the wall was approaching. Time to find yourself some BB

In April 2008, instead of going to an exotic island for my vacation, I went to visit some old friends in Brighton. We were catching up over beers when a 6-foot-4 hunk came up to our group to buy everyone shots.

And the rest goes as such.

Another fascinating case study, here at The Red Pill. Stay Classy San Diego