I BECAME A FLIGHT ATTENDANT. I wrote that in all caps to get your attention. And because I’m obnoxious.

And it’s official; I’ve been a flight attendant for eight months. I’ve jetsetted to Washington DC, Seattle, Las Vegas, Trinidad, Florida, Colorado, New York, California and well…okay…Lansing, Michigan and Madison, Wisconsin. So far, I’ve shacked up in fifteen different hotels. And I’m really beginning to get crazy for this lifestyle.

We have a job built of 1960s allure and fantasy, kind of like a a ring girl in a circus. We travel, do things no one can imagine (i.e. jump in a giant tube to shoot 40,000 feet into the skies every day), we dress in costume-like garb and see the world. Traveling is essentially a heightened luxury, as it always has been. Although, throughout the years, people have turned airports into dark places where hangovers are nursed and they wear PINK sweatpants and high buns, it’s still different. Flying is not something every person in the world does every day.

For that, I feel pretty special. But one of the very best parts about being a flight attendant, isn’t even feeling like a pompous asshole while walking through the airport and right through security like a high class pro. It’s this dirty little confession:

I love staying in hotels.

We get our own room and there is one triumphant king-size sleeping haven. The bed takes nearly one side of an entire wall. And the sheets always smell like clean heat. The first thing I do is check every crevasse in the room to make sure a murderer isn’t lingering in the shower. Once that’s all clear, I tear off my nylons, hang up my uniform and turn on the TV. I explore what the hotel has to offer for free. Sometimes, there is a cute little bag on the bed full of lilac bed spray, an eye mask or complimentary mints and tea. There is always a lovely bar of face soap that smells like herbs and honey. And, if you’re extra lucky (or staying at the DoubleTree), you get a warm chocolate chip cookie.

I do a spin and change into comfortable clothing. And then I make a deliberate mess. I take a shower and let water get on the floor everywhere, throw my towel on the ground, wash my face and splash cool water all over the marble. I lay in the bed and let the covers crumple and bunch on one side of the bed. I write notes on my complimentary hotel pad of paper and toss it into the garbage and miss…don’t care.

Mind you, I’m not sh*tting on the floor and smearing it around (Ed Note: Nice one, Britt). I do not need a hotel maid to deal with gag reflexive disgusting things. But I will make an innocent mess just because I can. Just because I’m not worried about cleaning it up. And just because the carelessness of feeling like I’m in 4th grade again makes me feel youthful and free.

When I come back from exploring the city, I jack up the air conditioner fan so I can sleep in the cool. I make Wolfgang Puck tea and snuggle under the covers (after removing the comforter because I know it was last washed in 1986). My feet are tender from walking all day, so I stack them up on pillows or soak them in a bubbly bath. I watch whatever I want, I drink sweet tea from the vending machine outside of my room. I keep my blinds open a slit so the sun can seep in come morning. I position myself diagonally in the bed. I do everything…just because I can. It’s wonderful.

I fall asleep whenever I want, feeling oddly safe and alone. I don’t talk to anyone unless I want to. Then I call them. I fall asleep like an angel, waking up once throughout the night to realize I have five more hours of sleep to enjoy. I turn over, nuzzle my head in the sweet, stark white pillow and flutter into a careful rest. In the morning, the shuttle will be there to pick us up. I don’t have to worry about scheduling anything apart from when to press ‘Brew’ on my complimentary coffee. And to remember taking the extra face bar soap home.

I wake up feeling like a power ranger. Charged and alive. I feel slightly organized and set to go once I neatly pack my suitcase. And I wheel my little life out of the room and waltz to the elevator. My feet feel rested and unswollen from my long walk down the Vegas strip the previous day. Life is effortlessly simple. My pressed blazer and clean nylons aren’t the only things that express it.

My face looks taught and fabulous from contentment and that herbs and honey soap. Sometimes, the simple things really are the best of all.

My days often look something like this: Wake up and write as much as I can from the notes I took the previous day. (Morning is the only time my mind is fresh). Head out around noon and do some research — visit hotels, eat at restaurants, and participate in some activity that I can write about. Come back to my dorm room in the evening and jot down notes from my day. Go to bed.

Rarely do I go out, rarely do I feel like this is an authentic vacation. This is a job, just like my previous job as a high school English teacher. This is my new profession — one that doesn’t even pay for itself right now. I remain hopeful that it will one day.

Travel writing is not a glamorous job, as Thomas Kohnstamm, a Lonely Planet writer, explains in his new book, Do Travel Writers Go to Hell? Kohnstamm goes so far to detail his life as a travel writer that he admits he wasn’t paid enough (tell me about it!) to go to Colombia, so he never went and just wrote the book in California. For another assignment in Brazil, he sold drugs to supplement his income.

Unlike Kohnstamm, my moral values are in place and, though I kick myself for being a hedonistic and poor writer on the road, I wouldn’t trade this lifestyle for a minute. However, despite his immoral approach to travel writing, Kohnstamm still provides a golden nugget of truth: Travel writing is a career and individuals committed to this profession deserve greater benefits.

There is an inherent problem with the travel writing industry. Graduates fresh out of college delay their entry into the real world by snatching up jobs I want. I want travel writing to be my life, but for these youngsters it’s just a stint — something they can say they did before they settled down. And they are willing to do this same job for pennies. Travel guides like Lonely Planet keep payment low because they know someone write for their book if they can travel for free.

There is no solution to this problem. People like myself who come into the profession later in life have to start from the bottom wrung. Right now, it’s just a reality we have to live with.

• Amy Winehouse kicks Keith Richards ass when it comes to trashing a hotel room.

• The intelligent bra takes the jiggle out of jogging.

• Posh Spice dresses really, really bad.

• WTF??? Paris is going to Harvard.

• Skinny is out… 2008 is all about the wide-leg.

• The Hills’ LC is going to the big house.

Maybe it’s how you were raised or maybe you are just cheap. But if you are going to walk into any place that is offering you a service of some sort, be prepared to spend a few more bucks on the person waiting on you. If you are going out to a “splurge” restaurant- be prepared that the tip is going to be an extra chunk added on to the bill. Want the $30 dollar steak but don’t feel like tipping on it? Then please, that’s what Burger King and Denny’s are for.

In lieu of cheap tippers that I as well as other friends of mine in the service industry have come across–here are some of the guidelines when it comes to tipping. Click here For a full list of tipping etiquette for every service imaginable (and I mean everything).

Restaurants/Bars

Servers: 15-20% or more if the service is fabulous. Many people don’t realize that servers don’t make minimum wage. They make there salary in tips. If you are with a large group or are being extra picky then you should tip on the higher end of the spectrum since your server is accommodating your every whim.

Side note: if you had a bad dining experience, remember it’s not always the server’s fault. Always ask to speak to the manager rather than skipping out on the tip.

Bartenders: 10-15% depending on how difficult the drink is to make. Example: Corona-Not as time consuming as a Long Island Ice Tea which has many different kinds of liquor (thank god for that) and will take the bartender much longer to make.

Takeout: A couple of bucks on the order is fine, unless the person packaging up your food goes above and beyond- then give a bit more.

Late night munchies/Delivery Guy: These are the guys we love. The angels who bring us the grub when everything else is closed. If you are coherent enough to actually place the order, then being too drunk to remember to tip is NOT an excuse. 15% is customary but never less than $2.

Hair Salons

Hair Stylist/Colorist: 10-20%. $3-5 extra for last-minute service.

Shampoo or other assistant: $2-5 for each person. Hand the tip directly to the person providing the service.

Manicure or Facial: 15%

Airport

Porter or skycap: $2 per bag or more if the bags are heavy. If you arrive late and he helps you get to your flight on time (or in my case waves the overweight baggage fee) tip an extra $5-20.

Hotels

Doorman: – If he hails you a cab, $1-2

Bellman: If he schleps your bags, then tip $1-2 per bag. Give him the tip when he shows you your room. If he just carries the bags to the front desk and then disappears, save it for the person who carries the bags to your room. Upon checkout, tip whomever helps with your bags

Concierge: $5-10 for help with hard-to-get dinner reservations or theater tickets. Tipping is optional for just plain advice.

Maid Service: I don’t know why but for some reason, many of my friends don’t think this is necessary. Uh hello, they are cleaning up all your crap! (and lord knows you left the contents of your 75lb bag all over the room). $1-5 per day typically, up to $10 per day depending upon how much mess you make. Tip daily because there might be a different maid each day. Leave the tip on your pillow. Err… on the side of being generous, and tip on the last day also

So there you have it. Next time you are getting your hair did for formal or are out to dinner with your gals sucking down diet cokes, you are now fully aware on how to tip properly. Now go ahead, make me proud!