The joke, unfortunately, is grounded in truth. The reality of being a flight attendant has always had more to do with low pay and cranky passengers than glamour and excitement. Now, it seems, the events of September 11 have put us on the front lines of the war on terrorism, and a tough job has gotten even tougher.

Ever since I can remember, I wanted to be a flight attendant. At a fourth-grade career day, I stood in front of the class and stated this goal. Though I had never been on a plane, I was fascinated with flying. Being a pilot didn’t interest me; I wanted to be like the striking young ladies in crisp blue suits I saw in magazine ads.

My dream never changed. In high school I studied French and entered beauty contests, hoping that it would look good on my resume. The airlines’ minimum age was 21 for flight attendants, so I attended college and waited.

In 1987 I was accepted into a training class in the aftermath of deregulation. The turmoil had made working conditions at many airlines so poor that flight attendants were quitting to start over with new companies. There were students in my class who had 10 years of experience. Their knowledge didn’t count at the new airline, so they were back at the bottom of the seniority list and the pay scale. The base salary at that time was about $15,000 a year. Flight attendants are paid only for the time they are in the air. The endless hours of sitting around during delays or cancellations are unpaid.

After training, we had to move wherever we were assigned, regardless of whether we had children or a spouse. Even though I was newly married, I moved to a city far away from my husband to pursue my dream.

During the ’90s, the industry went through hard times. Riddled with bad management and challenged by more cost-effective airlines, the larger airlines demanded that attendants take pay cuts or lose their jobs. In my fourth year my salary was slashed so deeply I became eligible for food stamps.

Even with pay cuts, many attendants were furloughed. Flights were often overbooked and understaffed. Fewer workers meant poor service and angry passengers. I was assaulted physically and screamed at constantly. One gentleman who had his mouth full and needed some more butter poked me in the rear with a fork.

At the height of this madness, my airline experienced a string of plane crashes. I lost a dear friend in one of them. My grief seemed unbearable, but I was expected to smile and deliver chicken or beef–and I did.

Eight years after our wages had first been trimmed, we were asked to take another pay cut. Some of my colleagues quit, but I still enjoyed the work. Most passengers were nice. I got to see different cities. And my co-workers were great–tough cookies who were also friendly and compassionate.

On September 11, the world changed. It became terribly clear how unprepared flight attendants were to handle a suicidal terrorist. The annual terrorism training we received prior to the attacks suddenly seemed laughable. There were never any terrorism experts at these FAA-approved sessions, no updates on current threats, no mention of specific terrorist groups. Instead, peppy instructors led us through fill-in-the-blank games on how to handle a hijacking and gave us tips like “put away the alcohol” and “ask the hijacker what he wants.” We were also reminded of the code word for “hijacking in progress” that we should give the pilot so he could alert air-traffic control. The problem was, the code word never changed in 14 years.

Though I’m relieved that my airline is starting to beef up security, I’m saddened by how my position has changed. I’ve always been expected to know safety skills like CPR and open-water survival, but my favorite part of the job was making the flight enjoyable for the passengers. Now that I’ll be working with armed marshals on the aircraft and steel bars on the cockpit, style and grace seem like antiquated concepts.

People ask me, more so now, if I am afraid to fly. I say “no” without hesitation. I would miss putting on that blue uniform and stepping through the airplane door into a world that is still awe-inspiring to me. There’s nothing like seeing the smiling faces of a family going on vacation or looking at a spectacular crimson horizon at 30,000 feet.

I am not afraid to get on a plane. I love my job. But I’m not sure I’ll ever find the glamour.