CHAPTER IV “You’re Nothing but a Stew-Bum, George” Our first flight together, as already chronicled, was less than perfect. But despite its many hazards, we did take away something of tangible worth—George Kelman. George represented our first experience in accepting dates with passengers. Like every other girl seeking a career as a stewardess, we were fully aware of the reputation the corps had acquired. Our last days at home in Amarillo and Louisville had been filled with stern parental warnings. You had to be promiscuous to want to be a stewardess, was the consensus of family and friends. We would have to spend our days and nights warding off rape attempts of captains, passengers, and all those love-’em-and-leave-’em guys. Our folks harped on the dangers so much we almost found them appealing. But George Kelman, our first passenger date, proved everyone wrong. He was, if there is such a thing, the perfect gentleman. That night in Cleveland George took us to one of the city’s better restaurants.
