My Favorite Things: View to a Thrill

Thrilling view of the mountains east of Orange County, CA.

I was an adult at the time. In fact, I was the general manager of a multimillion dollar company, for crying out loud. But there I was, seated in an aisle seat on a plane, fuming. Not because the flight was delayed. Not because they didn't serve my favorite drink or not have my first choice of a meal. I was upset because I couldn't get my beloved window seat and the man...nay...loser, seated in the window seat, kept the shade closed, thus denying my ability to see out. To make things worse, I was over the wing, so when he did eventually open the shade, I couldn't see a thing. Damned wing!

It was like I was 6, not 30!

Now that I fly all for a living, I'm not that way at all. I do still enjoy the times I get to fly in a window seat. I can sit there for long periods of time just gazing at the landscape below, watching rivers snake, boat wakes on lakes, and all the lights when flying late. Sitting in a window seat is great! But if I'm not at the window, it doesn't increase my heart rate. 

Even on the ground, I enjoy seeing what's going on.

It also used to frustrate me when flying over cloud coverage because I couldn't see the towns and cities and fields below. I do, however, love flying through skies with tall, billowy clouds. Being a huge Star Wars fan with a vivid imagination, in my mind they aren't clouds we are flying around, but huge star ships hovering above foreign planets!

I'm leavin' Las Vegas, yeah, yeah.

Even on the jumpseat, I enjoy trying to steal a view. One of the things I dislike about working on the 737 is how our view out of the door portholes are so limited. One can't see at all out of door 1 Left when sitting in the jump seat. It's also difficult to see out of the portholes on the 767. They are distorted and angled down; made more for ensuring safe egress in emergency situations than sight seeing.

I no longer fume over not sitting at the window. When working, I'm often tired when I fly in a passenger seat, and I'm just ready to take a nap. The window seats are great for sleeping, in that I can prop myself against the aircraft wall. It's much better than being in the middle, crammed between other people, or in the aisle, where the cart goes back and forth and one tends to get bumped a lot by passengers and even crew.

Porthole view of IAH airport, Texas.

Yes, I'll take that window seat whenever I get the chance. It's nice to be out of the way, but there is nothing like being able to get that wonderful view; the cloud formations, the waterways, the mountains and forests, the cities and towns. I hardly ever take for granted the wonderful views of sunsets and the chance to view things from above. Another thing I tend to do is count people I see on the ground before touchdown. Sometimes it's hard to find them, especially if flying into an airport surrounded by businesses.

There is nothing quite like some good tunes on my MP3 and a great view from my airliner window seat. It's my favorite!

Flying over airports is my favorite!

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My Favorite Things: Perfect Storm

Sometimes, things really come together well; a perfect storm of perfection. With so many components and opportunities for trouble, it's a wonder a first class service on an airliner ever happens seamlessly.

Perfect skies

It's an easy day with a flight long enough to do a meal service without having to rush. The crew are fun and cheerful. The gate agent is upbeat and attentive. The passengers board and are in a good mood, talkative and smiling. The pilots arrive and give a thorough briefing, ask for very little and are supportive in our needs.

The bins are shut early and still have room to spare. The aircraft door is closed and we hammer out the safety demo; read flawlessly. My first class passengers smile and say thank you as I pick up their cups. The taxi is without delay and the takeoff is into blue skies with no turbulence.

I make the in-flight announcement and leave the jump seat when it's safe to get up. I start the oven timer for the warm nuts, close the first class curtains, wash my hands and put my smock on. As I take meal orders, the passengers are still happy and enjoy a bit of banter as I ask about drinks and mention the meal options. Everyone gets their first choice, despite the ever-looming possibility that everyone will want the same meal choice.

In the galley, I take out the ice and glasses and start cooking the meals. I deliver hot towels and then pick them up. I check the meals to make sure they are cooking properly and remove the nuts from the oven, making sure the bread is perfectly warm before turning that oven off (there are 2). Drinks get delivered 2 seats at a time along with nuts and I make sure to call each person by name, as well as the drink I'm delivering.

Once all passengers have their drinks, I run out seconds, while constantly keeping an eye on the food in the oven. I pride myself on cooking meals to perfection. My pasta is always hot, never dry. By the time this is done, the meals are ready. I deliver meals, taking additional drink orders as I run the trays out. After the final tray is delivered, I remove the cookies from the chiller and place them on the pans to bake, which takes 20 minutes. By this time, the first passengers I served dinner to are finished eating. As I remove their trays I inquire as to whether or not they would like coffee or tea. When the timing is really perfect, the cookies are done baking just as I load the last dirty tray back into the cart. Again, I pride myself on perfect cookies. I place them on the plates, and deliver them. They are warm, fluffy and slightly chewy.

At this point, I check on the flight. I want to know how much time is remaining and need to see if they are done serving in coach. Sometimes, I can help pick up trash in coach at this point, but usually they are already done. I also check on the pilots. As I pick up the last of the trash and the cookie plates from my first class passengers, I make one last check on drinks.

The bulk of my work is now done. On shorter flights, it's almost time to land. On longer ones, I have a chance to eat, sit down for a bit or socialize with my crew or passengers. I like to personally welcome high-yield passengers in the main cabin and offer them a drink and check with those in need of a wheel chair. Personal attention is always my goal.

Soon, the plane descends and the ground looms larger through the small door porthole windows. I pick up the remaining service items, hand out any coats I hung during boarding and complete safety checks prior to touchdown.

As my passengers disembark, I thank each one personally, attempting to use a different parting comment so that no one passenger hears the same comment; good bye, thanks for joining us today, enjoy your evening, we appreciate your business, take care, see you soon, so long, see you next time; repeat. Most days, I receive compliments on my announcements and shake the hands some extend to me as they thank me for a great flight. Success!

It's hardly like a job when it all runs like this; and fortunately, it happens often. It helps that I love my job and that I'm organized and, if I may say so, myself, such a great flight attendant. It's like hosting a little dinner party for strangers but in a metal tube careening through the atmosphere. On a perfect day, when it all comes together, there is nothing like working in the skies over the Earth. It's my favorite!

Passenger of the Day: A Good Little Boy Scout

A plane flies over Chicago

The plane started to bounce a bit in the middle of the sky. I looked out the window to see only a few scattered white clouds in the distance, then I returned to my reading. The purser passed by, heading back to first class. He stopped for a moment at my row, not to talk to me, but to the man seated in the aisle across from me.

“Excuse, me, sir,” he said to the man in a white shirt and gray hair, who looked a bit like Barney Frank, the Massachusetts congressman. He looked up at the purser over the rims of his black glasses, surprised someone was talking to him, “for safety, we need to have your arm rest down.” The purser gently pushed the arm rest back into position and continued on his way. The man looked over at me briefly, and then went back to his Sudoku puzzle. It was a completely forgettable experience.

After three minutes, my neighbor fidgeted, put down his puzzle and pen, looked around and then reached up to press the flight attendant call light. I wondered what he was up to. We were seated at the exit row, so we were closer to the front galley, and sure enough, the purser returned. He was short, stocky, had graying brown hair and smiled as he approached. He turned off the call light illuminated over the man's head, bent down and asked how he could assist.

The Barney Frank lookalike asked the flight attendant if he could see the manual where it states that his arm rest must be down. This is what he was fidgeting about? He wants to see the manual? I couldn't wait to see how the purser would handle this guy. I knew right then that I was seated across the aisle from my passenger of the day!

Narrow aisles

“I'm sorry, sir, but we're not allowed to share our manuals with passengers,” he told him. “But if it helps, they need to be down to keep passengers from falling out of their seats when the plane encounters turbulence, and I feel that right now the plane is at risk since it's been bumpy. It's also more difficult for passengers to move up and down the aisle if a bunch of arm rests are up, as it gives a few inches less clearance.”

Spot-on, Mr. Purser! I was afraid he might actually acquiesce and show this man the manual.

The man across the aisle returned, “Well, can I know the page number where it states this? I'm a good little boy scout and I like to follow rules, but I just want to see it for myself.”

A good little boyscout? Likes to follow rules? Really? A good little boyscout would have just said yes, sir, and that would have ended it right there.

The purser replied, “Well, you can write to Mother Airline. My name is Jeff, with two 'Fs' and you can mention that I'm the purser on this flight. They can discuss with you the various FAR's.”

I do the same thing; 'make sure you get my name right so they know I'm doing my job'.

The boy scout picked up his pen and wrote down Jeff's name and “FAR”, asking what that was (Federal Aviation Regulation). He then told Jeff that this was the first time he'd ever been told this and he always flies with the arm rest up. Jeff told him, “Well, I may be a bit more into safety than most. They are only supposed to be up for egress of passengers.”

“Egress?” Mr. Boy Scout asked.

“Yes, if a passenger is immobile, it's to assist in getting in and out of the aisle seat. That's why the button is hidden in the back of the arm rest instead of being in plain view.” Mr. Boy Scout then wrote down the word 'egress'.

If you could hear my eyes roll, he surely would have.

Jeff excused himself to return to the first class cabin and Mr. Boy Scout continued writing notes. In light of things going on in the news of late, why did I have a feeling I'd be reading about this? “Flight attendant calls man disabled and won't allow the use of the moveable arm rest, more at eleven.” But the thought circling my head was more about how he seemed to have a hard time being told what to do by the authority of the cabin. The purser is the lead flight attendant of the flight, after all, and every rule is there for a distinct reason. He's made a request for safety and Mr. Boy Scout had to grill him, even taking notes, when having that reason explained.

He returned to his Suduko puzzle for a moment, and then stood and wrestled around in the overhead bin. He pulled out a small camera, knelt down and took a few photos of the seat and the arm rest. I was simply amazed. One of the flight attendants from the back saw this and asked him what he was doing. “I just need a photo of my seat.”

Inside an A320

He was a nice man and had been making small talk with yet another flight attendant on board, sharing information about cologne, which I also thought very odd. Men don't normally ask other men who they don't know about their cologne and then offer a napkin with a sample sprayed on it, as Mr. Boy Scout did. Was he hitting on the male flight attendant?

Mr. Boy Scout never said another word to the purser, even when Jeff later came through the cabin to pick up trash. The man seemed cold to Jeff, but jovial to the rest of the crew. He obviously had a problem with authority and didn't like Jeff telling him what to do. Falling out of your seat is bad, and could hurt others, as well. But the skies can be full of selfish passengers who are only concerned for themselves and their own needs. I can only hope Mr. Boy Scout isn't as selfish as appearances can lead one to suspect, and I'm happy he kept the arm rest down for the rest of the flight.