Again I turn around and look at my fellow coworker who is looking at her watch. "Nine hours and twenty minutes," she mumbles, shaking her head.

Remember, this nine hour and twenty minute layover includes the hour I will get ready for work in the morning, as well as the twenty minutes I need to take the hotel van back to the airport and make my way through security. Which means the layover is more like eight hours. Don't forget that eight hours includes the ten minute van ride to the hotel tonight, as well as the amount of time it will take the van to get to the airport in order to take us to the hotel, not to mention the time it takes to check-in once we're at the hotel, after we get in line behind you. Which means that eight hour layover is starting to look more like seven. If you leave now.

While I continue to stand there, waiting, still waiting, I'm wondering why you are just now reaching for your luggage in the overhead bin, and why little Johnny does not have his shoes on, and why your wife or husband or whoever it is you are traveling with is now on all fours looking under the seat, not your group of seats, but three rows ahead, and why oh why are you now standing on the armrest to get a better look into that empty overhead bin?

"I think we've got it all," you say, but before I can breath a sigh of relief, you place your suitcase on the ground and unzip your rollaboard. "You don't have to wait on us, because we'll probably be a few more minutes here."

I'd leave if I could, but I can't, so I don't, which is why I'm still standing there, one arm still draped over the seat, a hand still gripping, gripping, gripping the plastic handle of my Travelpro, as a swarm of cabin cleaners make their way to the back of the airplane. That's when I think I hear, "Mind if I use the bathroom?"

"Oh...umm...sure." I struggle to move my wheelie bag sideways so you can get by, and as you pass me by, I find myself wondering why? Why here? There's a much cleaner bathroom in the terminal. Why now? The flight was five and a half hours long. Why me? Don't answer that!

Okay, here's what I don't get. You came to the airport at least an hour before departure, waited in line at security, and then found a place to pick up a few snacks where you had to wait in line to pay, before heading over to the gate area to wait your turn to board. Once on the aircraft, you waited to takeoff, and after we finally took off, a few minutes late, you found yourself waiting for a drink. After enjoying your adult beverage of choice, you spent a very long time waiting to land, and while you waited five hours for this bird to touch ground, you may have found yourself waiting in line to use the lavatory. Eventually we land and you wait your turn to deplane, very patiently, a little too patiently. You've finally gotten your things in order, and little Johnny is wearing his shoes, and your wife or husband or whoever it is you are traveling with is no longer crawling around on the floor, so what, exactly, are you waiting for now?

You sling a heavy bag over your shoulder. "I think we're ready."

I smile, and this smile is for real, and together we walk to the front of the aircraft. At least I think we're walking to the front of the aircraft, because you stop, turn around, and look at me. "Mind if I double check one more time to make sure I have everything?"

"Oh...umm...sure, go ahead," I say, struggling once more to move my wheelie bag sideways, and as you pass me by, I find myself wondering why?

CHECK OUT THE OTHER PET PEEVES...

• Flight attendant pet peeve #1: Answer please!
• Flight attendant pet peeve #2: Back to your seat, please!
• Flight attendant pet peeve #3: You want me to do what?
• Flight attendant pet peeve #4: Turn around, look that way!