Confessions of a Hostie 3 (13 page)

On an unrelated note, Julia shows me another
photo on her phone. The accompanying story is hilarious: The photo
is of a pair of men's old fashion white underpants pulled over the
handle of an aircraft's emergency exit door. I thought it was a
joke, expecting a caption like:
only touch in
case of emergency
. I was not a joke at all. Julia
explains that a passenger went to the toilet after obviously
soiling themselves. He washed his underpants in the sink and
slipped them over the door handle to dry.

'This is the same door handle they expect me
to open if there is an emergency' she quipped.

The emergency exit was in full view of dozens
of passengers, with many eager to point out to Julia who the
culprit was. She took a photo before notifying the man that
emergency exits were not a public laundry. I won't reveal the man's
nationality, but can say, that according to Julia, he was not the
least embarrassed. She also noted that even though the underpants
were wet and washed, she reveals they were far from white.

'Too much information' I said cringing at the
thought.

'So what happened next?' I asked, still being
curious.

In broken English the man questioned: 'If I
can't hang them (being the underpants) here, then where can I hang
them?'

Julia's reply?

'In the trash can.'

We finally arrive back at the hotel. I go
back to my room for a quick shower, then change before heading down
to the pool bar again.

All four from last night are there, as well
as several others from the crew, including the boss. The manager,
David, is a nice guy. He sits down to explain Wendy's predicament,
reiterating she will not be operating the next day. The way David
tells the story, Wendy fell AFTER her massage and came straight
back to the hotel to report her injuries.

'The poor thing' he says with empathy.

Hang on, I thought, did he just say what I
believe he said?

Julia cannot hold her tongue.

'Sorry David, I think you'll find that she
fell BEFORE her massage.'

He assures Julia that she must be wrong.

Julia sits forward in her seat, facing David.
She is ready to explode.

I too am ready to speak-up.

All I need to say is: 'Julia is not
wrong.'

David changes tact. He now knows two crew
members have reiterated that Wendy's story is not correct.

Julia leans in close to David to whisper 'I
wouldn't feel too sorry for Wendy if I were you. She couldn't have
been badly injured as Wendy slipped as soon as she went into the
massage place - AND THEN HAD A MASSAGE. That was just after ten
o'clock this morning. I saw her at around three in the afternoon;
that's five hours later. She must have shopped for at least two
hours before coming back to the hotel and reporting to you. Sorry
David, she plays the sympathy card - give me a break.'

With that Wendy appears in the pool area - in
a wheelchair. She is being pushed in by the same poor girl who
carried her shopping bags. Wendy has come to the pool bar for two
reasons: to have a drink and to get sympathy. Drinks she may have,
but sympathy...?

I have learned over the years only one
negative or self-indulgent person can often spoil the mood of a
whole group. The mood changes considerably after Wendy's arrival.
Any (great) conversation we were having is put on hold. Wendy takes
center stage - it is all about her. I'm not jealous, just
disappointed. We had the best discussions the previous evening and
I was really looking forward to continuing. The mood is completely
different tonight.

One of the guys suggests going to a local
restaurant. I've actually been to it before and it is great. Wendy
is the first to say 'let's go'. I could not tolerate it. It is not
just Wendy; she I could ignore, but she brings down everyone around
her. Julia quickly confesses she is tired and won't be going out. I
know she's not tired, neither am I, but I too follow Julia's
lead.

I'm sure the boys don't want Wendy to come.
One suggests that as Wendy is now in a wheelchair there may not be
wheelchair access at the restaurant.

Wendy insists 'I can walk if I really have to
- just as long as there are no steps to climb. You'll help me,
won't you?'

That's enough for Julia and myself. We pull
the pin.

I go to my room and order room service. It is
not the desired outcome, but sometimes this happens.

My lifestyle can be incredibly social and, at
other times, really lonely.

I know many crew who struggle with that
social side. There are times when even the most social crew have no
one to hang-out with. I'm sociable with most, yet even I have trips
where I spend most of the time away on my own - and, from my
perspective, it is no fun.

I was recently away on a seven-day trip and
although the crew were nice, they all had their own plans. I had a
total of four nights in hotels with not seeing a sole. Someone like
my friend Helen would relish the opportunity to have some time on
her own, away from the family, away from the mundane chores, but
when you spend so much time away like I do, being on your own is
not always a good thing. Given the choice, I would much prefer the
company of someone intelligent and fun, than being on my own.
Sometimes I have no choice.

Trying to make the effort to get out and
about on your own in a foreign city is not that easy. Most
countries have security and safety issues, so being on your own is
not ideal. In a city like Jakarta it is less than ideal - it is
unwise.

For tonight, I eat my room service Nasi
Goreng, sip wine, and watch TV to contemplate what might have
been.

Sitting in a hotel room eating room service
in an exotic destination is not why I became an international
jetsetter. It is a harsh reality that not every trip or every day
is going to be an exciting adventure. Often it is what you make of
it, but when you have been living a lifestyle for as long as I
have, one can get apathetic. Some crew seldom leave their rooms by
choice. Eating alone in a hotel room is rare for me, yet for some
it is a daily event. To me, enjoying life is about embracing the
positive side of events and tolerating the negative. If the
negatives outweigh the positives, then it is time to change your
lifestyle - or attitude.

No matter the occupation or lifestyle,
everybody copes differently. I know of several fellow flyers who
struggle with the lifestyle, some to the point of being on
medication, including antidepressants. I'm not saying all blame
rests with the job. What I can confidently say is: being an
international flight attendant is a difficult lifestyle and often a
lonely one. Some cope, some don't.

As I eat the last of my delicious Nasi Goreng
while watching a funny American sitcom within a beautiful five star
hotel room, I think to myself: This is not so bad.

If this is the worst of my layover stays,
then I do indeed live a great life.

I had a passenger recently who muttered that
they were having the worst day of their life. It was all to do with
a late departure (all 20 minutes of it) and not being able to
secure an aisle seat on a full flight.

I thought to myself: If this is the worst day
of your life, then what a fantastic life you have.

A friend jokes that the worst days for him
are when he tells the voices in his head to be quiet - and they
answer back.

I laughed.

Most things in life are about perspective.
What should be minor to some becomes major - and vice versa. I'd
like to think there are bigger issues in the world than letting the
fact you are not sitting in an aisle seat ruin your life - or even
your day.

In saying that, I will be working a tad
harder tomorrow because of one crew member's silliness. I won't let
it ruin my day. I'll go to work with a positive approach.

After a good night's sleep, thanks to the
earlier massage bliss, I wake up refreshed. My call time is not
until mid-afternoon. It is an awkward time to go to work; not
enough hours in the day to do much, yet late enough to require some
sort of rest prior to working what will be a long day and night. It
is times like this that I try to do as much as I can before popping
a sleeping pill to get four hours sleep before work.

As I am clock-watching, I dare not venture
too far from the hotel's vicinity, especially in a volatile traffic
city like Jakarta. I venture to a nearby shopping center to
discover it has a massage place. It slipped my mind to have another
massage. I reassess my options: shopping or a massage? I check my
watch. If I limit myself to an hour massage, then I can do
both.

I'm excited.

This massage place is not as large or
elaborate as yesterdays, but it is cheap and I am here and
ready-to-go. What other justifications do I need?

There are no body scrub options here; it is a
room with reclining seats. You stay fully clothed with the massage
through clothing. It is not the best massage I've ever had, but
even an ordinary massage is still pretty damn good, I say.

I do my best thinking while being massaged.
An hour of relaxation refreshes the mind as well as the body. If I
ever go into politics (which I won't) and they asked me my response
to an extremely important issue, I'd say 'I'm off for a massage,
I'll give you my answer in an hour.'

I don't solve any global crises in my hour of
'think time', yet I use the time well to evaluate recent events and
assess my attitude. I think of Wendy. I wish I didn't. It doesn't
matter what positives I try to see in someone like Wendy, I can't.
I am disappointed I feel that way, but I must learn to accept it
and move on.

Those I admire the most are those who have
every reason to complain, yet don't. These are the people I'll
spend more time thinking about.

I return to the hotel and take my sleeping
tablet. I doze off for four hours - no weird dreams, no false
evacuation alarms, just four hours of forced sleep so I can
function on the aircraft.

The flight is full and of course and we are
now operating one crew member short.

'Think positive' I said to myself even when I
have to carry one of Wendy's (many) bags. In an ironic yet
predictable twist, she has the biggest and heaviest bags of all the
crew. She is taken to the aircraft by ground staff in a wheelchair,
dramatically standing up from the chair using all her weight on her
'good' leg. She makes sure all the crew see how distressed she is,
then hops down the aisle muttering something about not wanting any
assistance to her seat because she doesn't wish to be a burden. It
must be noted that one of the crew carried Wendy's in-cabin bag to
the seat, placing it in the overhead locker for her.

The weather forecast for Jakarta is not good.
Afternoon storms are predicted. We can see them rolling in, the sky
in the distance jet-black. The captain tells the crew that if we
get away on-time, we might avoid the storm, but it will be touch
and go.

It is not meant to be.

A passenger has failed to board and their
luggage is in the hold. The procedure in these instances is to
remove their bags. That is easier said than done with a cargo hold
full of bags. The storm gets closer.

We finally push back from the gate, although
we have missed our allotted slot to takeoff and now must queue
behind several other aircraft on the runway.
Then the storm hits
.

I've seen some amazing tropical
thunderstorms, but this one takes the cake.

All planes are grounded. The captain makes an
announcement stating the obvious. How long we will be sitting on
the runway is dependent on the weather gods. I look out the window.
It doesn't look good, if anything it is getting worse.

We are going nowhere, stuck on the runway as
lightning flashes and sideways rain pelts the airport. The plane
rocks. You wouldn't think it possible wind could affect an aircraft
weighing over 240,000 kg (530,000 lb). Although we are stationary,
the aircraft moves with the gusts. It is not as bad as some
inflight turbulence, nonetheless you can feel the aircraft
swaying.

Gee it looks bad out there, I say to myself.
We are not going anywhere for a while.

I am sitting on my jump seat at the back of
the plane - on my own, not facing any passengers. The rain is so
strong that the window looks like it is underwater. Flashes of
lightning interrupt the blackness - and it is supposedly daylight
outside.

I'd hate to be out there.

We spend over three hours on the ground.
That's three hours stuck in my seat, just sitting there. The
passengers watch movies, read books, or close their eyes. I can do
nothing except look out the window, wondering when we will be
going.

As the aircraft is rocking with the wind, I
contemplate just how powerful the gusts outside must be - and how
tough aircrafts are. The wind is exceptionally strong, yet compared
to some of the gusts up in the air, it is relatively a puff. Some
of the wind-speeds at over 30,000 feet are astonishing. I've heard
pilots talk of high altitude winds in excess of 200 knots; that's
over 370 kph or 230 mph. A captain told me that at 35,000 feet
there is a jet stream likened to a fast flowing river of air, with
the speeds increasing as altitude increases. This jet stream blows
in the same general direction (east-to-west), yet it can vary in
intensity.

Sometimes you fly with it, sometimes against
it. That is why some flights are quicker than others. Traveling
west is faster than going east. I did a recent flight, flying
west-east, which took five hours, yet the return journey, being
east-west, took seven hours - two hours longer. It is all to do
with the jet stream. I am not an astrophysicist, but from my
understanding, the jet stream is resultant from the Earth's
rotation along with other factors, such as the sun's
illumination.