Karma's a bitch, and so are we.

So that's our motto - us residents of the imaginary land of Airhostessia, which you pronounce, by the way, in a sort of ex-Soviet state accent, with a measure of disillusionment and bitterness thrown in. (Air-hose-TEZ-iya). Furthermore, our national anthem is the chilling refrain of "Raptus! Dominus!," properly sung high-pitched and drawn-out.

Have I, you may wonder, been dabbling in hallucinogenics? No, of course not! The FAA forbids! What is this about, then, you must want to know because you're continuing to read this?

Well, most workplaces are polarized to some extent or another, typically there are two opposing factions, i.e. management and workers. In restaurants, maybe, front-of-house and back-of-house. You get the gist.

In my line of work, the actual management is elusive and never-seen as it is extremely rare for us flight attendants to pass through headquarters or even phone there unless absolutely necessary. We prefer to communicate through e-mail. The less exposure the better, both sides seem to believe. So the focus, the group we define ourselves in opposition to, becomes the pilots.

Yes, those priggish, snotty bastards. And I say this with bemused warmth, I assure you. Those self-important, sense-of-entitlement-driven residents of our warring neighbor, Pilotia. (Puh-lo-shia).

It's an interesting relationship between the two lands, rich with conflicting emotions, affairs, drunkenness, disdain, ambivalence, resignment. We are both wary of and intrigued by each other. We both hate and love, fear and embrace.

Stay tuned for more news of the two lands. C'mon.. it'll be more interesting than real news.