More Confessions of a Hostie (6 page)

I know there is nowhere else to seat them, but the small and busy gallery. I ask that the couple to leave their seats and come along to the galley.

As they enter, I tell them, ‘I thought you might want some fresh air, well, you know…'

They know exactly what I mean and are happy I did this for them.

The elderly couple is delightful. I talk to them intermittently between call-bells, serving drinks, cleaning toilets yet again and checking on those passengers who have been sick. The turbulence has subsided, and I take every opportunity I can get to return to the galley and chat with them. The husband and wife don't have much travel experience. They are going to Japan to visit their granddaughter, who is in Tokyo on an exchange student program. But that's not the only reason they are flying abroad: they have their fiftieth wedding anniversary coming up in a few days, and this trip is their present to each other. Although they got a more tempestuous overseas excursion than they had bargained for, they have not complained once. They know that these circumstances are out of their control. They also know that the crew members have been working above and beyond the call-of-duty to make things better for the passengers.

As crew we sometimes begin to look at passengers as a whole, as a crowd rather than individuals. It is instances like this that remind us that everyone has a story to tell. Even the B.O. man probably has a very good reason to fly. I try to find empathy for the man, but fail to do so. It was his lack of hygiene and subsequent lack of thought for others that has triggered all this pain – the brunt of which, the crew and passengers have had to suffer. Well, no matter how good his reason is, he shouldn't be flying.

All airlines have what is called a ‘condition of carriage' or ‘condition of ticket' or ‘contract'. Simply put, there are rules of flying that every passenger has to adhere to. It is usually given in fine print on the ticket or receipt of ticket, and covers things like what can and cannot be taken on the aircraft, the permitted baggage size and weight restrictions, the legal indemnities and wavers, the behavioural guidelines and acceptable dress regulations. There is nothing given there about not boarding an aircraft if one has offensive body odour. Now, more than ever, do I think that ‘passengers must have acceptable body odour' should be printed in bold on the front of every ticket.

Before the lovely elderly couple need to return to their seats for landing, I make sure they receive a little wedding anniversary ‘gift' on our behalf to take with them. Our onboard manager knows exactly how difficult it has been for the passengers, particularly those in the back few rows, and allows me to also give each person in the back three rows, with the exception of you-know-who, a ‘gift'.

It is not the circumstances, but how you react to them that defines whether you are happy or not. For all the trauma, drama and discomfort they have endured, the passengers are still happy, at least with the cabin crew's performance. They are aware that the flight could have been plain sailing, but it wasn't. However, they are also aware the crew did everything we could to make the flight as comfortable as possible for them, and for that the passengers are thankful and tell us so. It is refreshing to have such appreciative passengers on the flight.

‘The deepest principle in human nature is the craving to be appreciated,' William James has observed.

I may smell like a sewer and am worn-out, but knowing that I have made a difference and that difference has been appreciated makes me immensely happy as well. William James knew what he was talking about.

It is a pity that this feeling won't last though. As soon as I land, I will have to spend my time in Japan with my face buried in piles of emergency-orientated paperwork. I would have really liked to let my hair down and a have a big night out. But a girl's got to do what a girl's got to do. And this girl's got to work now.

The older I get, the more sensible I am becoming. It's a shame, really.

time spent laughing is time spent with the gods – the japanese say so

We land in Narita early in the morning, Japan time. It is the land of the rising sun and I have witnessed yet another sunrise. I have worked a long and arduous day, and without any breaks. I fall asleep on the bus ride from the terminal to the hotel.

In most major cities around the world, the airports are generally located some distance from the city centre. This means that we have to endure long bus rides to our hotel. Narita is, however, only ten minutes away from our hotel. Tokyo's airport was built just outside the village of Narita, and consequently hotels and infrastructure for transiting passengers and tourists were built nearby. For someone who struggles to fall asleep at the best of times, I am perplexed at how I manage to fall asleep on a ten-minute bus ride, but I do.

My body is still screaming for sleep when I get off the bus, but as soon as I walk into my hotel room, I head to the bathroom. I turn on the shower to the strongest water pressure I can get – in Japan, this is just a dribble. What the shower lacks in pressure I make up for in heat. I make it as hot as I can tolerate, then take up residence. I have had long showers before, but this would rank as one of my longest. On the plane I was engulfed by every toxic smell known to man and although liquid soap and my (expensive) perfume have helped a little, I still feel like the bad odors have penetrated into my soul.

Two bars of soap and a container of body-wash later I make my way out of the shower to dry off. I douse myself in the most fragrant moisturiser and deodorant I can find in my toiletry bag, and then splash on the last few drops of my perfume. I slide under the sheets, totally exhausted, but smelling like Coco Chanel's rose garden. I should fall asleep straight away. I don't.

I take a sleeping tablet and have my obligatory four hours of sleep. I need more, but four hours it is.

When I wake up, it is early-afternoon. I draw back the curtains and observe the view outside, if you can call it that. My room overlooks a car park. And there's not much else out there. I can see enough of the sky to see that it appears clear and sunny, without clouds.

I can't wait to get out. Every hotel I have stayed in in Japan has been tiny. The rooms are generally sparse, dull and frankly, at least in the case of this hotel, quite depressing.

First stop: coffee. Hosties are, without a doubt, the largest consumers of coffee in this world. I am sure that airline crew around the world can be thanked for keeping companies like Starbucks profitable.

With caffeine-infused veins, I stroll to a little café that I have eaten at many times over the years. I order some of the delicious Japanese dishes I have been craving ever since I boarded the flight over. As I eat my last gyoza, I contemplate going back to the hotel and starting the arduous task of studying.

But it is such a beautiful day. It would be blasphemous to spend all of it studying.

I walk down to the local temple, with its magnificent gardens and surrounds. This time the cherry blossom trees are in full bloom. They look amazing. I strike up conversations with several tourists, including a Western couple, who are also impressed by the stunning show nature has provided for us. They tell me that the cherry blossoms bloom only once a year and are out for around a week only. I didn't know that; I realise how lucky I am to be here when the blossoms are out.

I really should get back to the hotel and study, but I am just so overwhelmed by the sight of the blossoms. I might not get the opportunity to see them again, at least not for a while.

‘I'll study tonight,' I promise myself. I spend several hours just wandering the grounds, in awe of the beautiful spectacle around me. Sometimes one needs to stop and smell the roses – or blossoms, like in this case.

As I walk back to the hotel, I see a number of other crew members there. They inform me that they are all meeting for drinks at six o'clock, and then going out to a fantastic traditional restaurant that one of our Japanese-speaking crew has recommended. It is a restaurant I have not heard of before, but one that is very popular with the locals.

I'll study tomorrow, I promise myself.

I discover that the restaurant is a nice, quaint and traditional place. We remove our shoes as we enter (as one should before entering any Japanese restaurant) and then sit on mats around a large cooking plate. I've tried teppanyaki many times before – teppanyaki is a style of Japanese cuisine that involves sitting before a chef, while he stands behind a grill and cooks your meal right in front of you. This experience still feels different though. For one thing, we are sitting on the floor.

The Japanese crew member, who had suggested this restaurant, places orders on our behalf, and endless streams of food are bought to the cooking plate. Most of it is already cooked, but the grill keeps the scrumptious food hot. We eat and eat and then eat some more. When I'm done, I'm so full I'm hardly able to pull myself off the floor and to my feet.

Most of the crew members are going to kick back at a karaoke bar (as we so often do in Japan) but I have already pushed the boundaries of sensibility all day, and have pushed it as far as it would go. This time I do the right thing – I head back to the hotel, open my books and sit down to study.

I do a solid fifteen minutes of studying before I fall asleep. It is about fifteen hours of study too little.

When I wake up the next morning, I lie in bed and read as much as I can. I am not really awake yet, so I'm not absorbing what I am reading as much as I would have liked to. I decide to leave the hotel and have a much-needed coffee and a bite to eat. I grab another coffee to go and head back to my hotel room. I then attack the books with gusto.

I lock myself away from the world. No iPhone for me, I switch it off. No TV, iPod and iPad for me either; I stay away from everything that could become a potential distraction.

Someone who doesn't fly would have little idea of how much we need to know about emergency situations.

‘Which life-raft does the captain get into if an aircraft ditches in the water?'

Surely the captain knows where he has to go? If he can't remember as much, then he doesn't deserve to get in a raft.

‘In a decompression, you will have fifteen seconds of useful consciousness at 40,000 feet.'

If we do have an explosive decompression, which would be terrifying, am I going to look at the position of the aircraft getting displayed on a passenger's inflight TV monitor to see if we are at 40,000 feet and find out if I will be dead in seven seconds time? Hold on – if there is a rapid decompression, surely the pilots will be attempting to get the aircraft to a lower altitude? So, I will need to recalculate the time at 35,000 feet – I will a have thirty seconds – and then again at 30,000 feet – I will have a minute – and so on.

‘Sure, this information is very useful,' I sarcastically tell myself.

I also need to learn what the external lights on the aircraft do in an emergency and for how long they stay on. These are lights that come on automatically, and turn off when the battery power runs out. Nobody has any control over their turning on and off. More importantly, is it really so important for me to know how they operate?

I didn't need to know how a car's hazard lights work and how long they stay on for in order for me to get my driver's license, did I?

This is information overload. With that said, much of what I study is important and I need to know it to pass my exam, and I need to know it word for word. No TV, no iPhone, no iPod, no iPad, no distractions.

After a few hours of cramming, I do get myself some rest. And then, it is time for me to take the long flight home.

rudeness is the weak person's imitation of strength

The flight home is uneventful by normal standards. It is ‘drama-free', at least. Helen laughs when I use the term. It is not an airline-exclusive term, but I guess we experience so many dramas compared to a normal job that a flight without drama is worthy of note. The passengers are polite, there have been no majorly offensive odours wafting through the cabin and not one person has vomited. It's a drama-free flight, indeed. There is simply no other way to put it.

Since it is a night flight, the passengers go to sleep after the meal service. I even get a chance to study some more. I also get the opportunity to walk around the aircraft and look at areas I haven't worked in for a while – this is very useful preparation for my exams. Aircraft manufacturers put emergency equipment wherever there is space. Sometimes there is a system, but other times it seems as if an engineer found a gap and decided to fill it. If they can fit a cart somewhere, they go ahead and fit a cart there. If a cart won't fit, but a fire-extinguisher can, then a fire-extinguisher it is. The only trouble for the crew is we need to know exactly where everything has been put, and are quizzed about it too.

Aircrafts are amazing machines. They are already heavy and are then packed with people, luggage, general freight, safety equipment, water and fuel; yet, they are so majestic and graceful. I often look out the window during take-offs and see the wing flexing with the enormous weight of the fuel it's carrying (much of it stored in the wings) and marvel at how effortlessly the plane rises up, reaching for the sky.

For all the emergency training I do and all the different scenarios I've had to face so far, I can still not fully comprehend just how horrific it would be to be in a major air crash. I've seen enough episodes of ‘Air Crash Investigations' to know sometimes things happen, but I also take comfort in the fact that major aircraft incidences are few and far between. I was reading some statistics on the safety figures of commercial flying and they are quite astonishing. Apparently if you did fly every day of your life, probability indicates that it would take you 19,000 years to succumb to a fatal accident. 19,000 years! You literally and factually have more chance of being stung to death by a bee.