Confessions of a Hostie 3 (14 page)

There are jet stream patterns, yet little
consistency. The captain told me it is a complicated affair,
whispering to me that he didn't really understand it - relying on
aviation weather briefings preflight and inflight.

Flying an aircraft is complex. I marvel at
the mechanics of planes. We are in a massive aluminum tube full of
heavy fixtures and fittings; there are over 250 passengers onboard,
each with bags bulging at the seams; the plane is full of fuel;
there is enough water onboard to flush toilets thousands of times
as well as provide tea and coffee for the masses; the hold is
jam-packed with commercial cargo and luggage; and enough drinks and
food onboard to feed hundreds of people - twice. Airplanes are
marvelous machines.

The weather has cleared a little. From my
seat I can see the tip of one of the wings. I can't see the
engines, yet know there are only two engines on this aircraft. When
you look at the size of the fuselage, the engines don't look that
big, yet they can power this lumbering beast along a runway and
drive it into the air at speed. It is impressive how much power
these aircrafts have.

The black clouds finally lift and the
torrential rain subsides to a drizzle. We taxi to the end of the
runway in preparation to takeoff.

The sky still looks menacing as the plane
powers along the runway, taking off to rise toward the foreboding
heavens. I notice the pitch (the angle) of the aircraft is not as
steep as usual. The pilots obviously need to keep the plane under
the threatening clouds above. We bank several times, still at low
altitude. I can only imagine how hard the pilots must be
working.

I look out my window to see lightning flashes
and stormy clouds. The aircraft is shaking, although not as much as
I would expect, given the wild conditions outside. We turn again
and again, with flashes of lightning all around us. The pilots are
doing an amazing job of keeping the plane relatively smooth.

The captain makes a P.A. Due to the weather
and the possibility of turbulence, he informs that the seatbelt
sign will be kept on for some time. I know how busy the pilots must
be, so it is impressive he has taken the time to keep the
passengers and crew up-to-date. We continue climbing while twisting
and turning around massive cloud banks.

Some passengers watch movies, some sleep,
others look out the window to see nature's light-show. There is no
sound from any passengers. All I can hear are the aircraft noises;
the usual rushing of air through the air-conditioning systems, the
vibration of the bulkheads and internal structures, and the sounds
of air running over the outside tail, wings, and fuselage. As the
pilots have the aircraft working overtime to get around and though
this storm cell, I can also hear the sounds of the onboard
hydraulic systems.

I am used to aircraft sounds. When there are
atypical variances in pressure and speed, I can tell. Most
passengers would have no idea of subtle changes in speed and
elevation, however most experienced crew would. When the aircraft
speeds up or slows down, it is barely noticeable within the cabin.
I tend to know by sounds more than anything else, caused by changes
in pressure outside the aircraft. It is more noticeable when the
plane starts decent for landing. The pressurization in the cabin at
this point can be detected, not just by sounds, but often
discomfort in the ears. When the landing gear comes down, the
sounds and vibrations of the aircraft are far more evident.

The lightning continues to flash and the
skies still look threatening. I can only imagine how difficult it
must be for the pilots to find smooth air. They have all sorts of
restrictions and considerations. We are not the only aircraft in
the sky. The storm is massive and it is also moving. Other planes
too must be trying to avoid the dangerous clouds and not every
plane can fit (safely) into the same airspace. It must be an
airport controller's nightmare with weather like this.

Most of the passengers are oblivious to what
is going on. We have turned at least 20 times - accelerating -
decelerating - for over 30 minutes, yet we still haven't reached
our cruising altitude. Even crew sometimes overlook that we are in
a piece of machinery moving at great speed up in the sky - and
sometimes that sky is not so friendly.

I've spent over 20 years working in this
environment. Even if I cannot hear the landing gear come down, I
can feel the vibrations; if I cannot see the runway, I can still
recognize that moment just before touchdown. I guess when you have
done as many takeoffs and landings as I have, you become accustomed
to how the aircraft responds.

If anything out-of-the-ordinary occurs,
especially noises, crew are generally the first to identify. The
pilots have all the instrumentations, however we are the eyes and
ears within the cabin. I was recently on a flight which had quite a
hard landing. While taxiing on the runway I could hear what I
presumed to be cargo rolling around in the hold. I waited until
stopping at the aerobridge and the engines were turned off before
calling the flight deck.

In this instance some of the cargo, which had
been strapped in, had obviously become unsecured. There was no real
threat to the aircraft structure, as they are extremely tough, but
there may be an issue for the baggage handlers when opening up the
cargo doors. The captain had no idea of the loose cargo. He was
appreciative of my actions and let the ground staff know.

I've heard no cargo hold noises on this
flight, thank goodness. Although the seatbelt sign has been on for
what feels like an eternity, the aircraft is traveling relatively
smoothly. The poor passengers have had nearly four hours in their
seats now without food or drink. With one flight attendant down, we
are going to be run of our feet.

The seatbelt sign turns off.

Let the mayhem begin...

There are so many adjectives to describe how
busy we are, yet
frantic
is the
first which comes to mind. The crew work at feverish pace to give
each passenger dinner and a stiff drink. Most want more than one
drink. Crew often use the phrase
responsible
service of alcohol
in instances like this, but who can
blame the passengers - they are all tired and hungry - so too the
crew. It will be some time before we can eat and get a drink for
ourselves.

What I'd give right now for a glass of wine
and some cheese and crackers.

In an ironic twist, that is just what Wendy
is doing while we run around at super-hero speed.

I haven't even had time to go to the toilet -
and I'm bursting. Bladder-control is another hostie skill I've
developed over the years. A toilet every four paces is a low
priority for airlines. Seats occupied by paying customers is what
pays the airline's bills. Toilets, from the airline company's
perspective, are an evil necessity. I've even heard of one low-cost
carrier contemplating charging for toilet usage with a
coin-in-the-slot entry system. The airline may have implemented the
scheme already, but imagine telling a passenger that unless they
have a coin in their hand, then they can't go to the toilet?

That's one flight I would not like to be
on.

On our flight, toiletry sanity prevails,
however I still don't have time to use one of our onboard toilets.
Crew don't have a separate toilet, so we too need to queue with the
masses. We often don't have time to queue. The only real time there
are no queues is during a meal service - and we can't very well
leave a cart in the middle of the aisle to go pee. I hold on.

Some of the passengers use the meal service
to access the now-vacant toilets. Often that means passing us in
the aisle while working on a cart. Aisles are skinny, there are no
overtaking lanes. A cart is almost the width of an aisle, so unless
someone has the hips of Popeye's girlfriend Olive Oil, then either
'Olive Oil' will be stuck on that side of the cart, or the crew and
the cart need to move. Every time we move it delays the service,
meaning those who have yet to be served need to wait even
longer.

'We will let you pass shortly' often falls on
deaf ears, with the passengers feeling this inherent need to jam up
as close as they can to us - even when the whole aisle behind them
is free. You have no idea how irritating it is to feel a knee in
your butt every time you bend over to grab a tray from a cart. I
realize that a plane is akin to a sardine tin, however spatial
awareness does not exist for some.

In these instances I push the cart a row or
two forward, yet nine times out of ten the passenger moves the
exact same distance forward. I am guilty, at times, of turning my
head to give a look conveying:
Are you kidding
me or what? How would you like it if I crept up behind you and
started breathing on the back of your neck while you were trying to
work?

It is not just about the crew's feelings. I
am concerned for passengers who either miss out on things or are
kept waiting because of the selfishness of some fellow passengers.
When there are over 200 mouths in my zone alone and, in this case,
only five crew to feed them all, then any disruption by one person
comes at the expense of the rest of the passengers.

We've had one woman on this flight who has
paid for her seat, yet prefers to live in the aisle. She is
constantly fidgeting around - opening lockers and placing her bag,
not on the lap like most, but in the aisle. Of course the bag is
huge and heavy. I can attest to the fact because she insisted I put
it in the locker when she came onboard. She even has the nerve to
ask me, while I am on a cart, to take her bag down from the locker
for her. This means delaying the service so this woman can access
her bag. She would no doubt place the bag in the aisle again, thus
blocking our access to the galley.

I tell her I will return to help her after
the meal service, meaning later. That advice falls on deaf ears. As
soon as we have pushed the cart past her, she gets out of her seat
to remove the bag herself. Guess where she puts it? In the
aisle.

She is continually in our way. When two
people are on a cart, one is always walking backwards. Today that
is me. Crew have exceptional peripheral vision skills.

I joke that even though I can't see things in
the future, I can often see them off to the side.

Walking backwards, I keep my peripheral
vision trained on where the cart is heading. We've had to shuffle
the crew around to accommodate the loss of Wendy. I'm now working
with Julia. Although Julia has little to do with the woman in the
aisle, Julia has instantly identified her as pest, even before the
woman began rummaging through her bag in the aisle.

Every time Julia needs to go back to the
galley, which is often, she has to pass the woman - stepping over
her bag and contorting her body to slither by. This also occurs
when returning with armfuls of drinks, or bread rolls, or whatever
Julia is required to carry. To Julia's credit, her verbal
encounters with the woman are pleasant enough, using the words
please
,
excuse
me
,
thank you
, and
can I please get past
. Julia's
expressions, however, are becoming increasingly animated. Everyone
in her viewpoint can see how frustrated she is; everyone except the
woman who is the source of the hindrance.

Julia's patience is at breaking point. We
need to return the now-empty cart to galley. As I push the cart
towards the galley I can see the woman continuing her residence in
the aisle. I am sure Julia already knows the woman is still there,
yet I inform her anyway.

Julia cannot hold her tongue anymore.

'Of course she is still there - but not for
long' Julia says with anger.

Julia turns around, but just as she is about
to unleash a verbal tirade, the arrogant woman grabs her dirty tray
from her tray table to then shove in front of Julia face.

'Oh hell' I think to myself.

I can see steam blowing from Julia's
ears.

I hope she doesn't say something she will
regret later. Fortunately she is in shock as the dirty tray is so
close to Julia's face she is forced to back away.

I think quickly.

'Julia, we've still another 30-or-so
passengers who haven't had a meal yet and the meals will be getting
cold if we don't serve them soon. Please get the lady to hold onto
her tray and we will collect it when we have finished attending to
those who have yet to be served.'

The serial pest finally decides to get out of
our way. The immediate problem is averted - for the short term
anyway. The woman will take up residence again in the aisle - it is
a given.

Wendy hasn't left her seat since boarding.
She had two glasses of wine and went to sleep. It is good for some.
It is over six hours since we stepped on the aircraft and we are
still collecting trays. We have not stopped. None of the crew has
eaten. I haven't even had time to take a sip of water, with racing
to the toilet the only break of any description. As soon as the
last tray is collected we close the galley curtains in preparation
to eat any morsel of food not nailed down.

'The call-lights can wait for five minutes'
says Julia stuffing a bread roll into her mouth.

Aircrafts are not the only things needing
fuel.

After a quick bite to eat, answering all the
call-bells, and then clearing the cabin of rubbish, we turn the
lights in the cabin down. Hopefully the passengers will get some
sleep. Our 'resident aisle woman' doesn't look the least bit tired.
She is still in the aisle, being in ours and everyone else's way.
We still have work to do: call-lights to attend, toilets to clean,
rubbish to collect, drinks to serve, and general hostie business to
attend to. Every time I step outside the galley I run into the
woman, having to maneuver my way around her to get past, with the
added inconvenience of walking in a dark cabin. On one occasion
Julia bumps forcibly into the woman. I can't be sure if it was on
purpose, but I suspect it was.