Being There: My Meeting with Shirley Maclaine

Penguin from seat 1A

I do love me some Vancouver layovers. It’s convenient that the hotel is walkable. The surrounding scenery is beautiful. The airport is modern and culturally relevant. The Canadian passengers are nice, almost like they’re from another, nicer country. Oh, wait…

With a seventeen-hour layover, I was able to get some writing done and sleep in. I left my room early enough to wander to the food court for a bite to eat before passing through customs and making my way down the terminal to the gate for my flight to Denver. This was day three of a four day trip, so I was a bit tired and sort of happy to be eating by myself. My flying partners met at the plane. They seemed rested and happy- chatty, as usual.

Boarding had begun and the overhead bins were getting quite full, even though there were a lot of empty seats. I was working up front, which would be full, so I closed a few of the overhead bins to save room for my first class passengers. Just as I returned to the forward galley, a man in uniform entered the plane carrying a large, bright red bag. It almost looked like a purse, with large handle straps and a zipper down the middle, but it was large enough that it actually had wheels on one end, and a telescoping handle, so one could pull it behind them with ease. Behind this man was an older woman with short hair and glasses. She smiled as she came on board and noticing the seat number on her boarding pass, moved into row one.

The man in the uniform looked at me for help with her bag. We don’t take bags and place them in overhead bins at Mother Airline, so I pointed to some of the bins I had just closed and he found space just behind the row of seats. In the meantime, the older woman looked at her ticket and saw that she had seat 1B and asked the man if she could move into the window seat instead. He again looked to me for guidance. He was simply the man lucky enough to be hired by the airport to assist certain passengers to the plane, and certainly had no authority to approve this request.

Before I could answer, my flying partner, Krysten, let the woman know that we could simply ask the person whose seat she was taking if they would switch with her. Normally, it’s not an issue, and I was quite fine with whatever situation made the most people happiest. The woman began to settle in and the uniformed man took his leave.

I leaned into Krysten, saying how much I thought the lady looked like Shirley Maclaine, but older. Krysten gave me a blank stare, not sure of who Shirley Maclaine was. “Wow,” I said, “you’re so young!”

“I’m not that young,” she replied, and gave me her age, which seemed older than I was expecting. Krysten seemed to figure the name out after I mentioned a few movies that have made her popular.

Returning to the cabin, I took pre-departure drink orders from a few passengers who had settled in, and the woman in 1A stopped to ask me where the movie screen was. “There used to be little screens,” she told me, “they would pop down and we could watch a movie. Where are they? Don’t you have entertainment?” As this was one of my pet peeves with Mother Airline, I almost felt like I was being baited.

The Vancouver Airport

After briefly going over Mother Airline’s decision to remove the screens in favor of passengers watching movies and shows streamed onto their own devices, I had to explain the process of how to download the Mother Airline app, so that once we were in the air, she could connect to the Wi-Fi and commence to be entertained for our two hour and twenty minute flight.

The problem is, I’m not tech savvy. I have a tech savvy friend in the Bay Area who used to help me with computer issues, often over the phone. He would endure my ignorance of computers and technology and spend what felt like hours upon hours assisting me. He would often lament, “That’s not possible! Your computer is doing things that should not be possible. How is that?” There would be a moment of silence from my end, followed by an, “Idontknow.” It’s the only answer I had to offer. He thought I must have some mystical powers to affect technical mischief. I half agreed.

So for this woman to be asking me to walk her through setting up her personal electronic device would be akin to asking the Pope for advice on positions in the Kama Sutra. Fortunately, the man behind her, in 2B, overheard and started giving pointers. I had a lot of things to do, since we were still boarding, so I excused myself. Krysten was still at the boarding door welcoming passengers, and after looking at the passenger manifest, informed me that the lady in 1A really WAS Shirley Maclaine. I could only roll my eyes and gasp, looking back to the actress peering through her glasses at her phone with the young man behind her trying to walk her through setting up the necessary app. But the smile on my face showed her how excited I was to be working in first class with such a talented actress as one of the passengers in my charge. Shirley freaking Maclaine! I’ve met a lot of people with name recognition, but for me, this was a thrill.

As luck would have it, the nice woman who was assigned to 1A took 1B without a word. And as luck would have it, she was tech savvy and was able to answer Ms. Maclaine’s questions. Ms. Maclaine realized that she had a larger tablet in her large, red bag, which might be more conducive to watching entertainment streamed from Mother Airline, and she looked up at me over her glasses. She was not demanding nor rude. She asked if I would be able to fetch her bag for her, so that she could retrieve her tablet, and pointed to where the man in uniform had stored it. I opened the bin and took her bag out, placing it near her feet. It was heavy and full, and felt like nice leather. She had a hard time reaching it, but Miss Benson helped out. Miss Benson helped out a lot during this flight. 

Miss Maclaine in her window seat

Ms. Maclaine got her app downloaded, asked for a water, ordered the chicken mac and cheese and then I asked what she’d like to drink. Her first reply was a Gimlet. I could see Miss Benson look at me, ready to gauge my reaction. When it was determined that no Gimlet would be served on board, her second choice was a Cosmo. Wrong again. Miss Benson seemed entertained and chuckled.

In thinking of a classy woman like Shirley Maclaine, who didn’t seem content with anything normal, it came to mind that we had Moscow Mule on board. I asked her about giving that a try. This seemed to please her, especially when I mentioned that no one ever asks for it. Sold! Moscow Mule it would be. Miss Benson thinking that sounded good, ordered one as well.

The time had come to close the aircraft door and soon we were hurtling across the skies of north America. In just over two hours we’d be in Denver, and Ms. Maclaine would catch another plane to her home in New Mexico. As I always do, I kept an eye on the passengers to anticipate any needs, and Ms. Maclaine often looked up at me. I guess I half expected her to just ignore me, as most passengers do. She appeared to be genuinely appreciative of my contribution to her travel experience. She would look up to regard me being attentive, smile and look back down at her device.

I was glad to see her actually watching a movie. It would have been exacerbating to find her reading a book or magazine after all the trouble we went through to set up her device. While checking on my flying partners in the aft galley, Krysten asked what she was watching, so when I returned to first class, I paused at row two so that I could find out. It was the 2017 version of Beauty and the Beast.

She thanked me with a smile when I served her Moscow Mule. She ate half of the nuts in the cocktail snack that I placed next to her. When dinner was served, she paused the movie, removed her headphones and engaged Miss Benson in conversation. How fortunate for Miss Benson, seated next to a legend, helping her with her tech issues and now having dinner with her. They even clinked glasses in giving cheers to one another with their drinks. One sip and Ms. Maclaine called me over to ask for a mini of vodka, saying it was too sweet. Miss Benson agreed, so I returned with 2 minis.

I added the mini and Ms. Maclaine winked. I replied, “Well, that’s just how I would drink it!” She raised her glass to me, still smiling. She was always smiling.

In flight entertainment

Mother Airline provided slices of turtle cheesecake on small white plates. I placed these on the silver lined tray to dispense to my passengers, but upon searching the galley, I could find no forks. I would have to pass dessert out right away, before picking up the trays, so people could use their dinner forks for dessert. Not the classy manner in which I would have chosen to present this service, but sometimes you have to work with what you have at thirty-six thousand feet. Ms. Maclaine was finished eating; she ate rather quickly. She asked if I could take her tray. I asked if she would like cheesecake, and she did. I suggested that she keep the fork, as I had no more to pass out. She took only a few bites, handing it back to me, apologizing that she had found it too sweet for her taste. I told her I’d not judge.

When Miss Benson was finished eating, Ms. Maclaine went back to her movie. She refused another drink, asking only for a glass of water with ice. I was humbled by how human Ms. Maclaine was. To have paused her movie to engage Miss Benson, her always smiling and constant acknowledgment of me and my efforts...she was nicer than most passengers, yet here she was, nearly a household name.

I badly wanted a photo with her, and had hoped she would drink more, knowing that when she got up to use the lavatory would be the perfect time to use my charm to compliment her talents and request a selfie. The opportunity would have to wait, however, until the captain turned on the seat belt sign for landing, which she took as her cue to get up and quickly tend to business. When she came out of the lav, I told her how much I appreciated her body of work, saying that I was a huge fan, and asked if I could take a selfie. She was most accommodating. She got back in her seat, seemingly quite conscious of the fact that the seat belt sign was on, and I invited Miss Benson to join in.

While kneeling down next to them I told Ms. Maclaine how I had met Matthew McConaughey only a few months prior, and the week before meeting him, I had watched the movie, “Bernie,” in which they had both starred. She exclaimed how much she loved making that movie, telling me how fun it had been to work with the locals. I gushed at how much I loved the movie and had found the performances by all the actors to have been so engaging.

The selfie with Miss Benson and Shirley Maclaine

For several minutes, I was able to chat with her about something other than my lack of technology sense, and in bringing up the Harvey Weinstein sex scandal, she had nothing positive to say about his character, which Miss Benson found intriguing. She thanked me again for assisting her so well during boarding and taking good care of her in flight. She told me that she was about to meet the director of the movie she had been watching, but had not seen it, and felt that it was important to do so before meeting with him. She said that the role of the teapot had been written with her in mind, and that they had hoped she would voice it and sing the songs, but she had to pass it up. She rolled her eyes as she said this. I complimented her in saying that she would make a great teapot! In response, she said, “You would make a great teapot!”

I took this at first as a compliment and Miss Benson laughed a bit. But I’m not sure. Was it?

If Shirley Maclaine thinks I could pull off portraying the teapot, I’m willing. Have your people call my people. I can fly to LA first thing and be in the studio tomorrow! (I’ve always wished I could do voice work, after all, I’ve already fulfilled my desire to be a professional actor. I’d love to do some acting again.)

We landed in Denver safe and sound. If I had a dollar for every time I’ve landed in Denver, I could buy a very nice teapot complete with matching cups and the tea to put in them. The passengers began to deplane and Ms. Maclaine was not yet ready. She was still gathering her belongings. She placed the Mother Airlines headphones she had used in the seat back pocket, telling me she had done so, as if I had to account for them. I joked with her that she could keep them as a souvenir. Miss Benson again assisted her and I noticed quite a few passengers craning their neck as they left to catch a glimpse of the actress in 1A. I guess they had noticed her, as I had done.

From the movie "Being There"

She thanked me again, taking my hand in hers as she did so. I moved her bag out of her way and placed in such a way as to make it easy for her to grab the handle. And with that, she was gone.

All five of us working the flight were excited to have her on our flight to Denver. I shared the photos I had taken with the pilots and we then ran into the nice young man from seat 2B, who had helped us before leaving Vancouver.

“I know I recognize her,” he said, “but what was her name?” He couldn’t believe he couldn’t think it when I told him. He was star struck and happy he had the chance to help her out. It was then that I had an a-ha moment, and I was so disappointed in myself for forgetting. One of my all time favorite movies is “Being There,” with Peter Sellers, and she starred in that movie. I wish I had remembered this, so I could let her know, but there are so many wonderful roles Shirley Maclaine has taken on. I was lucky to have met one of the best. (And she was lucky to have been served by one of the best!) Perhaps it was destiny. Perhaps we’d met in a previous life. Perhaps we’ll meet in the next!

Adventures in Flight: Crew Rest

Finally, the tie is off, pockets are emptied, and my feet are happy not to bound in shoes walking the aisles. The first service is complete and the plane is at altitude en route to a far away destination. It's time for a crew rest.

On long-haul flights, once the initial service is complete, it's time for crew breaks. Crew breaks are sacred. Services are seemingly done quickly mainly to allow maximum time for crew break; that's what many senior flight attendants would have you to believe. When I get juniored into a position I'm not very familiar with, such as first class galley, I can usually get out of it by saying, “OK, I don't really know this position, so I may be a bit slow and the breaks may be shorter...” Someone always steps up and takes the position from me before I can complete the sentence. Don't mess with crew rest!

Depending on the length of flight and how many breaks there are (two or three), crew can look forward to anywhere from an hour to more than 3, out of view from passengers for a rest. Each plane has a different crew rest set up. The best is the 777 aircraft with the crew rest bunks in the belly of the plane. Situated in the center of the plane, one can enjoy lying flat with limited movement felt in flight. While the crew bunks in the 747 are comfortable, they are located at the tail of the aircraft, above the passenger area, and as you may know, the tail experiences more movement as it gets buffeted by the winds in flight. The least bit of turbulence is exaggerated in these bunks. They do have seat belts, and I have feared actually falling out of an upper bunk during turbulence. Shake, rattle and roll!

View down below

 The worst crew rest is located in the passenger cabin, separated only by a thick curtain. The seats don't lie flat and noise is hardly muffled from the riff raff just outside the curtain. Such is the case on the 767, which I fly most on my trips to South America and the 777 that Mother Airline uses for flights to Hawaii, which don't have the bunks in the belly of the plane.

It's nice to get settled in, turn the air on full-blast because I'm still overheated from the service, just start falling asleep, and then the infant that is always boarded next to us starts to cry. Well, maybe nice isn't the word. Or the passenger behind us decides to open their shade every 5 minutes and the bright light in the dark cabin creeps through the cracks between the curtain and the cabin wall like a tiny sun has formed just behind my head. (I think I could actually hear the light, it was so intense.) Or a nearby passenger has an empty water bottle at their feet and every 10 minutes their foot finds it and makes a crackly-plastic bottle sound that in my sleepy state sounds as if it is right over my head.

When I first started flying international trips out of San Francisco in the early 2000s, I watched what the others did and would do the same thing- ear plugs in the ears, eye mask, strip down to the basic uniform and dive under a blanket with 2 pillows. I never could sleep. Maybe it was the thrill of going to a new foreign destination, which back then, was quite rare for me and my insignificant seniority. Or maybe it's as I learned later on, that I simply can't sleep with earplugs in my ears and an eye mask digging into my head. I don't sleep like that at home, why would I think I could sleep like that in a crew rest bunk shaking like a hula dancer at 35,000 feet?

Night time departure

These days, I feel much more like a pro when it comes to crew rest. I prefer the first break, because it's hard coming off of break and going right into the arrival service. With first break, I can get my rest and then get up, have my crew meal (also sacred) and not be a sleepy-head when the second service begins. I also don't wake up very gracefully.

There is one bunk on the 747 known for being colder than the others; I prefer this one. I prefer to be next to the window when we must rest in the cabin behind the curtain; people are always walking past the curtain and bumping into me.

What's fun and entertaining is how passengers always try to move into the empty crew rest seats. I recently encountered a man quite proud of having acquired one on a full flight, leaving his center seat for a crew seat. I stopped by, said hello, and asked where his seat was. He stated this was his seat. I said that it couldn't be, because this was a crew rest seat and asked again where his seat was, knowing full well... He was quite determined and didn't seem to understand, so I asked, “Are a crew member? Are you working this flight?” He looked at me, the gleam in his eyes obviously dimming, “No.” “Then, I'm sorry, but you'll have to return to your seat, crammed in between two very large men on a 10 hour flight. These seats are reserved for working crew.” Inside voice was asking me if I enjoyed crushing human spirits.

Crew rest is sacred, so if you happen to be on a plane seated next to the crew break area, please be considerate, quiet, keep your window shades closed, your baby in silent mode, and for the love of the gods, do not disturb!

Shadows from the skies

Passenger of the Day: The Next Round is on Me

I was purser on a flight from Los Angeles. The flight wasn't full and it was a late departure. The sun had long ago set over the Pacific Ocean. I didn't get to see this one, but I've seen enough to know how it went down. (Excuse the double meaning.) The purples and pinks in the clouds with the blues in the skies above at altitude are unlike any sunsets on Terra firma.

There was a well dressed man seated in 2F. He had a certain calmness about him. He wasn't rushed, stressed or concerned. He was pleasant, smiled and kept to himself. The seat next to him was vacant, which is rare. He asked for a scotch after takeoff, thanked me and I left him to his reading.

After I had served all of my first class passengers, which was done fairly quickly, he called me over. “I wonder if I could ask you a favor, I'd like to buy everyone on board a drink. Would that be possible?”

I must have stammered a bit. I mean, no one has ever done anything like that. Maybe ever...in all of the history of flight! “Everyone? You mean, like all 100 or so passengers in the back?”

“Yes,” he said simply, sort of glancing back at the curtain separating the first class cabin from economy. “I'd like to offer to buy everyone a drink...anyone who would like one. You see, I'm a producer for several television shows, and we just won an Emmy, so to celebrate, I'd love to buy a round of drinks.”

“Well, to make that work, I'd have to make an announcement, otherwise, no one really ever buys a drink on these late flights. Are you sure you'd want me to do that?”

“I am,” he stated simply. Television producer buys a ticket in first class and wants to buy a round for the entire flight? Who am I to say no?

I quickly conferred with the crew, who were just about to come out into the aisle with their beverage cart. They were impressed and liked the idea. So I asked them to keep a tab on all the drinks and to bring it to me when they finished and Mr. Emmy would pay for it on his card. (I sure hoped that card was good!)

When I returned to first class, I let 2F know that we could accommodate his request, and made sure one final time that this is what he wanted before I announced it to the entire cabin. He handed me his credit card. “Oh, that's OK. You can hold onto it until we're done.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, excuse the interruption. Our beverage service is about to begin in the main cabin. A gentleman in first class is celebrating a big win and has offered to buy the first round of drinks. If you would like an adult beverage, please let us know, and if you're under 35, please have your photo ID ready. Thank you.”

The tab wasn't as large as I had expected; it was under $300. For a millionaire television producer, it would be like me buying you a coffee. It made his day, and he didn't ask me to do any advertising; no mention of his name or the television show. He simply wanted to buy some drinks for the flight.

The crew, on the other hand, was less than happy with me. They didn't realize that I was going to be making an announcement and charged me with greatly increasing their work load. I didn't realize handing out drinks to people was a big deal for people who have a job handing out drinks, but who knew? All they had to do was keep a tab of how many drinks they gave out: 8 beers, 18 minis, 9 bottles of wine. Just enter it into the hand held computer and run the card. Very simple, very easy.

Many passengers didn't even take him up on the offer, but everyone appreciated that the offer was announced. Mr. Emmy certainly got his wish and it did not set him back too far. I'm sure had he been on a larger plane that was full and taking off earlier in the day, the number on the hand held machine would have been more than my paycheck, but I have a feeling he still would not have bat an eye. Besides, I'm sure the tab was ultimately paid for by the television company. Thank you CBS! Next time, maybe I can be a passenger so I can enjoy a drink on your dime!

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Adventures in Flight: When Men Act Like Children

The woman I was working with was recently hired and was wide-eyed about many things; asking lots of questions and soaking things in like a sponge. She entered the aft galley at the tail end of the boarding process rolling her eyes, and gushed, “There was a fight in first class.” Without needing an explanation, I knew what she was talking about; passengers acting like third graders-- happens all the time. I asked her what it was about this time. Overhead bin space.

Our plane was leaving Denver and would set back down in the Oregon city of Portland. There were something like 30 seats open, and in first class, there were 5 seats open; this is a rarity. Tiffs usually break out on crowded flights. Empty flights are usually a piece of cake, but tonight that cake was fruit cake! No one wants fruit cake!

I had walked into first class and saw that there was a lot of open space in the overhead bins. Why would anyone be fighting in first class over so much space in the bins?

I was told it was much like watching TV's Frazier Crane arguing with Redd Foxx. It seems they both wanted to use the small bin over 1B, which is where Redd, a short, stocky man sat with his wife. Crane, a taller and seemingly more educated fellow, was in 2F next to his wife and never took off his head phones, so to compensate, he was yelling even louder than he probably realized.

The purser tried to ignore the situation, thinking to himself, if he gets involved he'll have to tell the captain. The captain may end up putting someone off of the flight. Getting put off of the flight could land someone on the airline's No Fly List. It involves reports, stress and most likely a delay. Even though he wanted it all to disappear and went into ignore mode, the captain actually could hear the argument ramping up from his seat in the cockpit.

Crane: I got here first!

Redd: This bin is over my seat, it belongs to me!

Crane: You want to have a go at it?

Redd: You gonna get all up in my grill and we'll have a go at it!

See, third graders!

Flight attendants have bags and we store them like passengers do...in the overhead bins. I was working a flight to Asia a few years back and had stowed my bag in an overhead bin as assigned by Mother Airline. Boarding commenced and the first passenger to come to the back of the plane reached his seat just in front of my jump seat. He opened the overhead bin, which I had closed because it now contained the bags of 2 flight attendants, including mine. He looked quite confused and looked at me for a moment.

“Where am I to put my suitcase?” he asked. I was bewildered as I observed all of the empty overhead bins, and replied, “You're the first person here, every bin is available to you. How about right here,” as I pointed out a perfect location for his bag across the aisle. “But this is my seat here...someone has placed their bag in my overhead bin.”

Really? OK, folks, first of all the bins are not assigned like seats are. Many passengers get that, as they place their bags in the space for first class passengers and then head to the back of the plane. I know when I fly, I prefer to have my bag across the aisle so I can keep an eye on it.

I had a flight attendant friend who once had her bag mistakenly taken off by a passenger. She found his number on his bag and called him as he was waiting in baggage claim. She told him to wait right there and she would meet him with his bag to make the exchange. He ignored this and started back to the gate, meaning he had to go through security. All of her liquids were confiscated, because he was not a flight attendant. If you're not a flight attendant, you can't take liquids through security. She was so upset at him; that was expensive perfume! Bags look alike and this happens often.

How about checking your bag for less hassle!

The fight came to a close when Redd's wife stepped in and made her husband behave. Crane took his seat with his obnoxious red head phones and never seemed to look up again. His wife moved to another seat and pretended not to know the man in the silly head phones for the rest of the flight.

My flying partner asked if I see grown men acting like that often; she has only been flying for 3 months. I was reminded of the 2 men fighting over a seat reclining, “You're reclining into my space!” “I bought a seat that reclines so I'm going to lay back.” And then I'm all like, “Boys, do I need to separate you two? Because if you keep this up I'll have to notify the authorities to meet the plane when we land, and you'll both be in detention.” Yeah, it happens from time to time. It's a spin of the wheel and bound to happen. If they're going to act like third graders...!

Letting off some steam

Adventures in Flight: Open with Caution

I was attacked on board my flight from Houston! We were on approach to SFO and I was performing my safety checks. I got to row 10 and there on the floor in front of the two occupants of that row was a large guitar case. As you may know, items must fit under the seat in front of you. This guitar case took up the length of all 3 seats!

I was aghast! "Where did that come from?" I asked. "Was it there for take off?" They nodded yes. My flying partner must have missed it in the darkness. Or, sometimes passengers try to hide things with blankets or coats; they can be quite crafty.

Of course, I now had to find space for a guitar case, and this was a plane without a closet. Thank the gods the loads were light. I started opening overhead bins, praying there was one with room enough for this musical annoyance. Each bin I opened was full of bags, back backs, paper sacks, purses, a CPAP machine. Open...close...open...close...full, full, full! Then I got to the overhead bin at row 20DEF.

I was running out of time, so the search had sped up. I opened the bin and before I could react, I was attacked! It came at me with great speed. It was close, but missed me and clunked to the floor with a loud thud, most likely heard by the homes we overflew several hundred feet below the aircraft. It got everyone's attention in the plane.

It was a horn! It was a horn that was about 3 feet in length. It was pointy on one end and blunt on the other, so either end would have been painful. With the light loads, no one was seated in the aisle seat underneath it. The dark horn spiraled like the stars would encircle one's head who might be unfortunate enough to have been clonked by it.

Yeah, one of these! *

What kind of horn was this? Who carries a long, pointy, spiral horn? What the hell does one do with an animal horn? What animal is out there cursing the fact that someone took it (and most likely their life to boot!).

It belonged to the man in 20F, who seemed a bit miffed that his precious horn had fallen six feet. Um, you put the horn of death along the edge of the overhead bin, in front of luggage instead of behind it, and you're going to get mad at me for not knowing this? I don't think so. You can take that bad attitude and shove it in a piece of fruit cake! I was nearly maimed! And what are you...a witch doctor? Why is there an ever-loving spiraled horn in the overhead bin flying through the air at me? Why? Where am I, Africa?

I'm asked, “What's the weirdest thing you've seen in an overhead bin?” Until now I may have answered, a cooler of human organs (which gets the plane a priority taxi for takeoff and landing!), funky hats, musical instruments, decorative canes, fancy suit cases, or once, I did find a flight attendant in the overhead bin, but that was staged. Now I can answer with pride, “A death horn!”

I secured the spiraled horn of death back in the overhead much better than it had been to begin with and eventually found an empty bin for the large guitar. The man placed it in and I started to make my way to my jump seat at the rear of the plane, catching the eye of a deadheading flight attendant. She smiled knowingly at me, fully aware of what must be going on in my head at that time. Guitar cases and attack horns. Just another day at Mother Airline.

I'm sure this plane has seen horns on board!

*Photo not property of Penguin Scott

Passenger of the Day: Falling from the Sky

It felt like summer when I left my house in Houston. I don't like it when it feels like summer in the middle of February, but that's what I get for living in Houston. I was happy to be off to Calgary, a little taste of winter for my 20 hours in the land of Canada. In the real summer, I escape to South America for their winter. Snow birds leave the cold of the northern part of America and head south. I'm Penguin. I enjoy going north for the cold. For just a bit, any way.

Penguin free-falling

The first thing I noticed about the tall young man walking down the aisle was that he was wearing shorts. He was in his twenties, handsome round face under what could have been a military hair cut, those little athletic socks that are barely visible inside his sports shoes and a nice gray sweater. As I said hello to him, he stopped and asked me about first class. He noticed there were a few open seats and had hoped to get an upgrade. I had a strong suspicion that he was not high enough up on that list to get one of the open seats. I reminded him that we were still boarding (in fact, we were still quite early in the boarding process) and that the agent would come upgrade anyone who was already seated in the back. For good measure, I asked where he was seated, just in case (wink, wink).

As it turned out, he was seated in the very last row. I always hate to see the taller ones getting seats in the last row. The seats don't recline much and in the back of the plane there are a few inches less between the seats than in the front of the plane which makes it tough on long legs, and one thing you don't want is to have a pushy flight attendant driving home the fact that the aisle space is ours and the seat space is yours, 'so stay out of our space!' It happens. Were there open seats, I'd consider asking if he'd like to upgrade.

I used one of my favorite lines when hearing that someone is in the last row, “If you were any further back we'd have to put you to work!” He laughed and thanked me for all the information on first class and sulked to the rear of the plane.

Later, he wondered how long I had been flying. I answered and asked if he was interested in working for the airlines. He informed me that he used to be a customer service agent for a Canadian airline and that he still had a few friends who were flight attendants. We struck up a conversation and I got a thrill from hearing that he had sponsors for his skydiving!

Suiting up with my instructor

“Oh, I LOVE to skydive. Well, it's been about 16 years since I've done so, but I've done it a couple of times and it was one of the greatest thrills of my life,” I told him.

I'll never forget the experience. I had driven out to Delaware with a customer friend from the Harley-Davidson dealership I managed. After a quick class, we took off in an airplane and leveled off around 9,000 feet. People often tell me they would never jump out of a perfectly good airplane. I respond with, “You didn't see the airplane from which I jumped!” It was a perfectly fine plane, but it was older, stripped of any seats and had seen many flights. Most people would have been leery to take off in that plane.

As we climbed, the instructor got ready and directed me to stoop in front of him. He connected our harnesses and together we scooted to the door. When it opened, I was just a few inches from the edge. I looked down at the ground. A sudden thought came to mind...there is nothing between me and the ground but 9,000 feet of air. I should be terrified, but I wasn't. There was very little time to obsess over the situation. I felt the tap on my right shoulder; the one that meant it was time to leave the airplane.

I tumbled out and we rolled a few times. I went into the free fall position I had been instructed to go into; legs spread with my soles to the sky, arms out and elbows at 90 degrees like I was being arrested, back arched, head down. Down we went. I was in love. I had expected to feel much like one does when on a roller coaster and the stomach drops. There was none of that. It was just a roll out of the plane and a feeling of weightlessness. Save the intense rush of air that flapped the skin on my face like a flag, there was no sensation of falling. I was flying!

All too soon, I received the second tap and the parachute opened up above us. Now there was silence as we gracefully floated towards the airport from which we had alighted just a few minutes prior. My instructor was a humorous man with white hair and he made a few jokes and then informed me that one of his 'things' was to serenade his students. He sang a song that thankfully only lasted a few seconds. For the most part, he just let me enjoy the fall, with the ruffling of the nylon chute over head. I...was...in...heaven!

Landing was simple and disappointing, that my time in the air was over. I loved the fall; so much so that I repeated the experience a few months later in Maryland from 11,000 feet. This instructor let me pull the chord to release the chute, which is supposedly a big deal.

Happy Penguin after my skydive adventure

My new friend in the last row going to Canada introduced himself to me; Eric. He showed me a video on his phone of a jump he had made with a few friends. It was a great video and showed them floating through clouds on their way to the ground, grabbing the feet of the their friends, and falling feet first instead of stomach first. Eric eventually wants to train for BASE jumping and will soon begin training for a flight suit. If only I were I young again!

For me, the chance to go skydiving was one of the greatest thrills I have enjoyed in life. There is nothing to compare with falling free and then floating under canopy. If you ever get the chance, don't miss out.

As the passengers began to gather their belongings and enter the Calgary terminal, my flying partner asked me if it was cold outside. “Well, judging from Eric's shorts, I'd say no.” He looked over and laughed and told me his girlfriend would be waiting outside with the car warmed up for him. Good thing, as a blast of cold air hit as we left the airport and I was happy to have my warm clothes...and my memories of falling from he sky.

Passenger of the Day: Do Fries Come with that Shake?

A snowy day in Chicago

Nothing like flying over the holidays. Most people are in good spirits. They are on vacation off to visit loved ones they've not seen in some time. It's such a joy to be around those we love and miss, enjoying great meals together, exchanging gifts, playing games, singing songs, full of good cheer.

There are, however, holiday travelers who are the complete opposite. The holidays are stressful. They have to visit family, those miserable judgmental miscreants responsible for years of therapy and perhaps the biggest reason, besides a fear of flying, for now traveling with a service animal yapping at crew instead of flying with a more silent stress relieving stuffed bunny, which just looks ridiculous with that ensemble they are wearing to show up Aunt Bealle and that horrid pleather outfit she wears in an attempt to look 20 years younger. And if that's not one of the longest sentences I've ever written, it must be true!

One of the best parts of the holidays for people on a budget is shopping the post holiday sales. After just landing in Denver, I found myself in line at a store offering up big discounts. It's rare to find big discounts in an airport, but who wants to buy Santa scarves and snowman socks in May? I found myself looking at tired ornaments, frayed garland and stale cards with enough glitter to make a fairy puke. Maybe it was the bustle of the other shoppers, but I found a reason to be standing in line to make a purchase.

The woman in front of me had an armload of finds. She was a pleasant woman who offered a smile as I took my place behind her. The woman at the register wore a sweatshirt, which, surely was once as white as snow, but now looked like it had missed the weekly laundry for about 4 months. Her hair was a most unnatural color, something between a blonde and red; a look achieved after a few too many hair colorings.

A plane and ugly snow

She had been at the register for some time when the woman in front of me asked somewhat to herself, but out loud, if Miss Sweatshirt was changing her mind. It seemed as if she was buying items and returning them. Miss Sweatshirt turned to look at the woman in front of me, with a blank stare. She turned back to the cashier and said, “Don't shake your head at me.” For a split second I thought they might have known one another. The woman in front of me seemed nice enough, and her comment didn't at all sound rude. But Miss Sweatshirt turned again and with a face as ugly as that damned sweatshirt, she said, “You just keep shaking your head until if falls off your ugly body.”

It must have been the sudden shock at such hostility that had inside voice revolt its role and suddenly I found myself saying out loud, “Now, there's no need to get rude.” Others in line were just as appalled and the woman just behind me said, “I'm shaking my head...look, I'm shaking my head!”

Taking a look at the other line, I decided to move over to give it a try. No drama was to be found here. The cashier was cheery and very quickly I was on my way out. Having to walk past the other cashier with the old grump, Miss Sweatshirt was still in line doing whatever it was that she had been doing. The pleasant woman in front of me had also left that line. I have to admit, I found myself shaking my head; and no, it did not fall off my ugly body!

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My Favorite Things: It's Hard to Stop!

747 landing at LAX

Well, folks, there you have it...this is the twelfth story in the series of some of my favorite things. These are no where near all of them. I love my job to the point where often I find that on my days off, I would rather be flying. There are many and numerous times I say out loud, “That's my favorite!” In fact, it was having said this a few times within only a few minutes, just over a month ago, that led me to the idea to work on this series. I sure hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

In this final installment for “My Favorite Things” in 2015, I thought I would include a list of favorite things from around the world. Most were experienced in the course of doing my job. Some were discovered on personal travels. The world has become a much smaller place for me now that I travel around it as much as I do. There are still so many nooks and corners to discover, and there is hardly any place on the planet I would not love to see.

Penguin Claus

Thank you for going on this journey with me; my little holiday gift to you. And now, here are a few of my favorite things:

My favorite yogurt: In Sydney, Australia's Circular Quay is a small, narrow restaurant selling salads, sandwiches and desserts. If you happen to go there, you'll find it near the street under the overpass. They have a bin of fresh yogurt with fresh fruit. I get it by the pint and eat it during my 2 day layovers. It's thick and creamy- delicious- and full of fresh fruit. If you're nowhere near there, I've found yogurt almost as good in the grocery stores.

My favorite butter: Almost every country outside of the US has wonderful butter. I'm not sure why we don't have dreamy butter in my home country. My first meal in Paris was in a dark, fancy restaurant. I was with fellow crew members from my SFO flight. On the table was a pail full of creamy delicious butter. I recall saying, “Just give me a spoon, I'll eat the butter.” The sentiment was shared by others.

My favorite city: Untouched by war, Brugges, Belgium is a quaint town full of Gothic architecture, ornate church towers, waterways and a wonderful town square to enjoy. The closest you can get to Brugge without actually going there is to watch the movie, In Brugges, starring Colin Farrell.

A stormtrooper boards a 737???

About the best Mexican dinner I've ever had was in a small restaurant in Old Town San Diego. It upset me having been raised in Texas to find what I thought was better tortilla soup and carne asada out in California. It was also very hard to accept that the best steak of my life was found in Buenos Aires, Argentina. It was so tender, you didn't need a knife. It was flavorful, lean and simply to die for. Something about the amount of rich soil just under the grass eaten by the cows. Sorry Texas, you're known for TexMex and steaks, but you will just have to share the stage on these two items in my book!

My favorite beer: I've always had a thing for light-colored wheat beer, such as Blue Moon. It all started in 1994 when I discovered Cellis White. The Cellis brewery went out of business a short time later, dammit. Then I found, while on vacation in Brussels and relaxing in the town square, cherry flavored Lambic beer; it was on special. It was equally refreshing when enjoying it on my day trip to Brugges.

My favorite airport layover hotel: The worst part about trips to Vancouver is having to deal with customs. The best part is staying at the airport hotel: The Fairmont. One of the best hotel chains in the world (and one I once worked for when in high school), it's only a short walk from baggage claim, across the terminal. It has fantastic views of airport activity (my favorite), no matter what room you get. Wonderful location, friendly staff, fantastic rooms with comfortable beds, nice-smelling lotion and mint tea. I love the water pitcher that allows me to enjoy tea without that slight taste of coffee you get when making tea in the coffee maker.

View of the Sydney Opera House from door 5R.

My favorite layover: No longer a destination for me now that I'm based in Houston, I still loved my trips to Australia. Situated on a natural harbor, it's one of the more beautiful cities in the world. The people are more laid back and their manners are much better than those found in other major cities. I once noticed that when people took cell phone calls while walking down the sidewalk, they stepped to the side to talk. It has a feel to it of what I expect the US was like in the 50's. And with all the water, between the harbor and the ocean, there are so many walks one can take on the well constructed pathways that wind along the shores and above the cliffs. I enjoyed a different walk on each layover and never repeated the same one. It's also home to the best fish dinner I've ever had.

My favorite Barbecue: While you can't really beat the BBQ stuffed baked potato at Dickey's at the DFW airport, I think the best BBQ I've had in my travels was in Kansas City. Thanks to a passenger who told me about Gates BBQ and their burnt ends sandwich, I found a piece of heaven between bread and smothered in tangy sauce. While maybe not the best BBQ I've had, it definitely made quite an impression on me.

Landing

Wonderful pizza: A few months after the tsunami that struck Thailand, I spent a week on the shore in Phuket. My hotel had a wood-fired pizza oven and I ate that pizza each night of my stay, but one. I regretted that one. (Not really.) It was hand tossed and thin crust, fired to perfection with melted cheese. I don't know that Italy itself could make a pizza this good, and I've been to Italy! They even let me refresh my culinary background by allowing me to make my own pizza one night!

Best Cuban sandwich: I don't know the name of the hotel, but at the Miami airport I once had an extended short layover. The 'Cuban', my first, was quite tasty and the fries were dusted in Parmesan cheese. Nothing like a hotel meal that surprises at how good it is. My favorite.

My favorite downtown hotel: A few years ago, I was holding red eyes from San Francisco to Boston for 30 hour layovers. I loved being able to explore Boston and the Freedom Trail. We stayed at the oldest continuously run hotel in the country, the Omni Parker House. It's a notably haunted hotel, and I believe it! The experiences I had there will be the subject of its own story. The hotel is the birthplace of the Parker House rolls and the Boston Cream Pie. It has a great work out room and has fostered the inspiration for several stories that I have written, most notably being the history of Doctor Evil. (See my Fiction Blog.......)

Some of my favorite culinary finds: Street waffles in Brussels and street churros in Mexico City for their wonderful texture and perfect flavor. Clotted cream in London for its creaminess and divine when combined with warm scones. Seafood burrito in Puerto Vallarta full of grilled shrimp, octopus and seasonings in a grilled flour tortilla. Espiritu Santo Restaurant in Valparaiso, Chile, one of the better restaurants I've ever eaten in, dishing out garden fresh food with charm and warmth. These all had me melting.

London's Battersea Power Station with a pig I found on the Tube.

It's difficult to stop writing about my favorites; there are so many. This list isn't so much about the job as it's
about the perks of enjoying my job. The places I've seen, the places I get to visit, the cultures I am able to gain knowledge of and the wonders of the world I am able to explore. It's true magic and I'd not trade this in for anything (except winning the lottery, in which case I'd still travel, but more often than not, in my own jet plane!). I'm a first responder, I'm a safety professional, I am a flight attendant. It's my favorite!

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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