Steven Slater had a hard job. He was an airline steward, and had been for 28 years. On August 9, 2010, he was working on a Jet Blue flight landing at JFK in New York City. As the flight was still taxiing, one of the passengers stood and began removing her carry-on bag from the overhead storage bin. Slater approached the passenger, and asked her to sit down, per FAA regulations.
The passenger continued pulling at her bag, which forcefully slid out, striking Slater in the head. Slater asked for an apology, at which point the passenger cursed him out, apparently giving him a “F you” and calling him a “mo fo”. This is where it gets good, and Steven Slater moves into my pantheon of heroes.
Faced with this provocation from an impatient, rude and dangerous bitch, Slater returned to his station, and if I understand what CNN hinted, told the flight over the intercom that he was quitting after 28 years so he wouldn’t have to deal with bitches like the one he had just encountered. He then took two beers from the gallley, pulled the emergency stop switch and activated the slide, and slid down the inflatable ramp. Hopefully giving a two-finger salute on the way down.
After he landed, Slater ran to his jeep, drove home to Queens, and according to NBC, was apparently having sex when police arrested him at his home in Queens. He has been charged with 2nd-and 4th-degree criminal mischief, 1st- and 2nd-degree reckless endangerment and criminal trespass in the 3rd degree.
Now, if there is any justice, Steven Slater will have the felony charges (second degree criminal mischief and first degree reckless endangerment) dropped, get 1 year probation for the other charges, the bitch that started and aggravated the incident will be charged (for aggravated assault and reckless endangerment) and NOT get probation, and Slater will sell the movie or tv rights to his story and never have to buy his own drinks for the rest of his life. Hopefully, a Steven Slater Legal Defense Fund has already been started.
Here’s to you, Steve Slater: you exited your dreary, thankless job in a way most of us will only ever fantasize about.