You do six legs and say "Man, that was an easy day."

You've been known to survive on a mixture of sugar and half-and-half, obtained free from the nearby coffee shop. It's like an energy drink, right?

While off-duty, away from the airport, you order a fast-food meal, and instinctively reach for your crew badge to get the employee discount.

You know exactly how many flavors Top Ramen comes in.

Mainline pilots refuse to make eye contact in the terminal.

Mainline FA's refuse to make eye contact in the terminal.

You've heard the phrase "OMG is this our plane? It's so small!" uttered so many times that you just don't notice anymore.

When the Master Warning light illuminates on Day 4 of a 4-day you're much more concerned about missing your commute home than about the possibility of fiery death.

You vow to punch the next mainline captain who complains that he had to sell one of his three boats since the pay package got voted down.

You are on a first-name basis with your local ramp controller, whom you talk to about 10 times a day. Ah, the joy of incessant hub turns.

When people ask who you fly for and you respond with your company name, the nearly-universal response is "Who?"

Another pilot has ever said to you, "Are you the guys who are stealing our flying?"

One hotel breakfast, liberally sampled, lasts you all day.

...or three days, as long as you don't mind living on yogurt, overripe bananas, apples, and bagels that eventually resemble granite.

You spent more time taxiing today than flying.

You can eyeball a rollaboard from 20 feet away and instantly tell whether it'll fit into an RJ overhead bin.

A phone call from Crew Scheduling sets off a PTSD attack.

Secretly you worry that mainline won't be much better.

Secretly you worry that you won't ever get to mainline, anyways.

You spend furious minutes trying to open your hotel room door...only to realize that you're using the key from yesterday's hotel. It's OK, the person inside the room you're trying to get into probably isn't freaking out or anything.

Your wife sues for divorce, but can't complete the filing paperwork since she has trouble remembering your name.

You have considered attaching a green bag tag to yourself, just to get on that last flight home.

...or possibly wearing a 'Comfort Animal' harness and attaching yourself to the nearest pax who looks like she could use one.

You've lasted for days on scavenged snacks from first class and the occasional pizza slice stolen from the MX guys' break room.

Your dog barks when you return home, since he's not sure who the stranger is.

You've made a PA that goes like this: "Well folks, welcome aboard United Exp....errrrr...Delta Connection flight...hmm...256 to....Detro....Milwau....St. Louis!"

And yet, despite all the above, you acknowledge that this typically bizarre, often frustrating, and occasionally exhilarating existence still more satisfying than spending the rest of your days in a grey cubicle.