Tuesday Gather Writing Essentials Game: Character Development

This is a "party" entry for Sandy Knauer's Tuesday Writing Essential.  Details found here.

Winston Rafferty has a secret.  It's no secret that he's a flight attendant for American Airlines.  He's been in the job for about a year, but to Winston, it may as well be a lifetime. You can read this on Winston's face with every "Welcome aboard," he utters.

He seems a bit different than other flight attendants in that he doesn't look the part.  Winston is a bit portly for one.  His uniform pulls tightly around his chest, and his pants seem to be cinched a bit too tight around his generous belly.

While many of the male flight attendants seem to be gay, Winston seems pretty straight, not that you can read sexual orientation from a job or from a quick glance at the man pushing the beverage cart.  However, while many of Winston's counterparts seem downright fussy about their appearances -- designer shoes, belt and fashionable eyewear to dress up their boring uniforms -- Winston seems completely blah.  He drives a silver Toyota Camry, not a flashy red anything.  He was almost married once, but didn't see the point.

His shoes, while shiny, are not designer.  He doesn't wear glasses, and he doesn't pluck his rather bushy eyebrows.  His skin is clean, but his pores have not been subjected to peach pit compotes, dermabrasion or hours under a sunlamp.

Another thing that differentiates Winston is his flat affect.  He is unflappable.  Completely.  The screaming, vomiting baby in row 3?  Towels and an extra barf bag for the frazzled mom.  The portly man who needs not one but two seatbelt extenders?  Winston hands him both following his dull re-enactment of the flight safety briefing.

However, what differentiates Winston the most is what no one sees.  Winston can sing like an angel.  You wouldn't guess this from his demeanor, nor his normal flat speaking voice, with his Midwestern intonations.

In his jacket pocket, Winston has a cassette tape of his rendition of Don Giovanni.  An identical copy of this tape sits on the desk of an opera agent in New York at this moment.  Said opera agent is frantic because this tape has no name on it, but the voice on the tape would make Placido Domingo cry from the sheer beauty.

Winston pushes the drinks cart back to the front of the aircraft and empties another bag of ice into the bucket.  He glances briefly at the formerly-screaming vomiting baby in row 3 and lets a small sigh escape.  Another flight completed and only 7000 or so until his retirement, gold watch and thanks from a barely grateful company.  If only he could have gotten someone to listen to his audition tape.

The flight lands and Winston watches row after row of passengers deplaning, all the while Mozart runs through his head.  As the last passenger leaves, a single tear runs down Winston's cheek.  He wipes it away, pulls on his jacket and walks -- head down -- into the terminal.