It has been a day. And that frothy, mostly foam airport beer is doing little to quell the stressful chorus thrumming through your veins. Just one flight stands between you and home. One flight to take you away from Doubletree pillows that felt as if they were stuffed with corn. You’re so close.

But then you look up from your $35 craft beer and see something that makes your blood run cold. Youths. In matching t-shirts. Weirdly extroverted. You’re riding back to DC with…a travelling troupe of kids

It’s important that you don’t panic, ok? I can walk you through this, and hopefully help you get through the situation with minimal emotional distress. As a recovering retired flight attendant, I know all too well the silent dread that overcomes you upon seeing them, in their wacky shirts and clumsy smiles. They have an obnoxious energy, still think airports are fun, and give you emotional hives. But they are a menace you can endure; I now present, my survival guide to surviving a plane ride with theater kids:

Her wish is for silence

This is a hard and fast rule I employ at any night out at the local Applebee’s but also when I’m in proximity to kids with voice boxes and some semblance of pitch. Don’t breathe it, don’t even think it. I don’t care if it’s not even your birthday, (I mean odds are low) but do you think they mind that it’s not?

Have you ever stopped to imagine what it would feel like to have a bunch of metal-mouth tweens harmonize Happy Birthday to you in front of a full plane? I pray you never do…it WAS in fact my birthday that fateful day. The other FA told them. There were 2 verses and hand motions.

They’re going to sing for a member of Congress or something. WHO CARES? If you ask, you show interest, and now the gates are opened. Have fun answering all the questions: Is the Smithsonian worth it? Where should they go for dinner? How does one go about getting courted by lobbyists since that sounds fun? You will have just made yourself a DC tour guide, when all you wanted was to choke down some plane wine and nap. You poor idiot. You beautiful fool.

We just ate freeze dried ice cream at The Air and Space Museum! Democracy!

“Ma’am, is there a way to use the call bells musically?”

There is no easy way around this one- just charge up your earphones, and if nothing else embrace the terrible thrill as you descend slowly into madness, prompted by a never-ending catalogue of “Rent”. Remember, paying them any attention, good or bad only serves as encouragement. It fuels them. Keep your nose buried in your Safety Card and pray for touchdown. As you review the closest emergency exists/ stare manically into the abyss, reflect a little bit. How DO you write a song/When the chords sound wrong/Though they once sounded right and rare? You don’t know, but then again, you never did.

Now that they’re outside of their parents’ watchful eyes, the pituitary mating dances will begin. You can feel for the poor suckers, and you probably will; you’re a human not a machine. Not like the plane hurtling you through space and time as it simultaneously hurtles Trent and James and Sean to their first heartbreaks. Life is but a mirror. Anyway, do NOT intervene. If these kids do not gradually build up their dating game through a series of less and less terrible flirting attempts, they will gain confidence at an unsustainable rate. The likelihood they will become sociopaths or worse, MLM founders, skyrockets; I’m assuming you don’t want to live with that.

“Yeah we made prolonged eye-contact for 8 seconds so I’m thinking a spring wedding”

This is it. Final approach. You’re so close, just keep watching that rerun of that one cancelled show you had high hopes for 5 years ago and remember that enduring misery strengthens resolve. As for the entire soundtrack of “My Fair Lady” being stuck in your head on the drive home, well, you’re on your own. Carry on solider. And hope that their return flight is not yours.