"It must be an amazing feeling to walk through an airport terminal and make people smile," I said eyeing the logo that now had me smiling my own first class smile.

He looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"Your shirt. It's great. It brings back memories."

Two seconds later twenty bags of Pop Rocks in the newest flavors were pressed into the palm of my hand. "I came prepared," he said, and then went on to tell me that Mikey is not dead. In fact, not one kid ever exploded from mixing Pop Rocks with Coca Cola - in case you were wondering. You know you were!

Where are all those bags Pop Rocks now? Tucked away in my tote bag. They're housed inside an airsick bag that was decorated with flowers, suns, and moons by an adorable five year-old girl named Hania who lives in Pakistan with two boisterous brothers who refused to keep their seat belts fastened and sit in their seats regardless of the illuminated sign or how often Hania and I told them to. I must admit, we became friends near the end of the flight, but I didn't find the child all that adorable during boarding when she decided to lie down in the middle of the aisle in first class, holding up a long line of passengers who were trying to get to their seats. One would think her parents might try to move her along, but instead they just stood there smiling at me as I tried to coax the child off the floor and to her seat in the last row of coach.

Now back to the exploding candy housed in a bag featuring artwork by Hania. I've actually promised to send the Pop Rocks to a couple of people who follow me on Twitter that correctly guessed the number of passengers - nineteen - I had to personally ask to turn off and stow their electronic devices after the aircraft door had been shut and the announcement had been made. And that does not include the guy who sat next to my jumpseat on landing who decided to pull out his blackberry and start texting.

"Excuse me!" I said, eyeing the device.

"Oh," he said, and turned it off.

Two seonds later a young man seated a row back pulled out his cell phone, the glow of the display illuminating his face in the dark. I could see his fingers dialing. I could also see the twinkling lights down below on the ground. I yelled from my jumpseat, "Can you turn that off and keep it off until we land, please!"

The commuting pilot sitting beside the kid just shook his head. Then he passed me a 4 x 6 photograph of a beautiful chocolate brown horse that lives on a farm in upstate New York. Very soon that horse may find himself saddled up on a couple of green acres in Texas. The pilot and I spent a good ten minutes talking about the benefits of having a horse, and now I'm thinking about taking a western style vacation with the family. The people you meet, the places you want to go...

Eventually we, the crew, as well as the Captain's electric guitar, made it to our layover hotel in Oklahoma City. Once inside my room, I whipped open the floral print curtains, looked across the bare parking lot, and spotted it - a Cracker Barrel restaurant located directly across a busy street. Honestly, I think everyone should visit a Cracker Barrel at least once in their lives. It's that good. The following morning I unleashed my inner Brittney (Spears) and dug into a plate of chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes with gravy, and green beans. It was more than worth the calories, and anyway, calories don't count while traveling! Not when traveling today is like being on an episode of Survivor in that you never know what's going to happen. You've got to be prepared, not just for the worst, but for anything - especially if you're a flight attendant. Three hours later I ripped my skirt.