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: Say What?

Often, I hear from people who, after finding out what I do for a living, express an interest in becoming a flight attendant. I frequently hear someone say, “But I don't speak any other languages.” Well, I only speak English and Texan (which only means I tell a good tall tale), but speaking a foreign language is not a necessity for becoming a flight attendant. It helps, but is not required.

Languages fascinate me. I wish I'd learned another language when I was young, for now that I'm old, my brain is too feeble and lazy to pick anything up. I'm quite frustrated when flying to a foreign locale and ask how to say this or that and the language flight attendant tells me, and then half an hour later it is completely gone from my memory, even though I'd said the word 1000 times (did I mention I speak Texan?).

Every now and then I hear a language flight attendant speaking to a passenger and I pick up on a word that sounds so interesting. I'll ask, what was that word you said mean? “Solamente.” “Nosotros.” Such interesting sounding words, that in the whole sentence of what to me is gibberish stands out so well. Then I find these are such basic words, and mean “only”, and “us”.

I took 2 years of Spanish in middle school. That was a very long time ago and I recall so very little...plus the fact that I use that language so infrequently. I can pronounce words like a pro, and have several Spanish speaking friends who tell me they are quite impressed with my pronunciations. I just have no idea what I'm saying.

Maybe languages translated on the 

seatback monitors?

It can be rough working an international flight in coach and coming across passengers who do not speak English. On one such flight to Lima, Peru, I encountered a charming woman of small stature and a wide smile. I asked what she would like to drink, and from her mouth flowed all these words in rapid fire succession and not a single one could I understand. I apologized, as I leaned in, and asked if she could speak any English. The following words unintelligible to me provided the answer...no! And so many words flowed from her that fell on deaf ears. I looked for the nearest language speaker; far from me was he.

Fortunately for me, the woman next to her could translate. She wanted coffee and I did know enough to tell her, “Cafe un momento, por favor. Cafe con...dinner. Not now. Un momento.” The woman next to her filled in the blanks further and she understood; coffee would be served with the dinner, but not right now.

Later, when I reached her seat with the dinner, I asked if she would like pollo, or pasta. As if I had by magic maybe learned Spanish since we last spoke 20 minutes ago, she again went into a very long diatribe of words that had no meaning to me. I reminded her that I did not speak Spanish.

And this would happen every time I interacted with her. One thing I remember well from taking Spanish in school was “lo siento”, or, I am sorry. No habla Espanol.

She would roll her eyes, as if to say, “Oh, yeah, I forgot.” At least she smiled nicely at me. It must be difficult to travel in a world where you don't understand the language. Wait...I do that all the time. It is rough, but I've never been put out too much by not speaking the language, and today, with smart phone apps, it's getting easier.

There are two things I always say I wish my parents had done differently when I was very young and could easily learn things: I wish I'd taken piano lessons, and I wish I'd learned another language. It's so much more difficult to do those things when older. I'm just waiting for the day when Google creates a blue tooth contraption that one can wear that will translate languages in real time! (And, hey, Google, maybe you can call it the 'Penguin Translator'!)

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View to a Thrill: Hello from Denver

View from my hotel room in Denver

When I first started flying for Mother Airline, most of my layovers were long enough to get out and explore the cities in which I stayed. These long layovers are where I enjoyed exploring, did a lot of my shopping or went to see a movie at a nearby theater. After 9-11, the layovers got shorter and to save money, we more often than not stayed in hotels near the airport, not near stores and their sales or theaters and their new releases.

One of the reasons I remember long Denver layovers are for the sales I'd find at the Ross, the flying pizza at Anthony's and watching movies at the 16^th Street theaters. It's been years since I've had a long Denver layover. So when I saw the trip in my line, I was eager to return and explore an area that I know has been revitalized. 

Large hand-thrown pies at Anthony's

What a let down! My first experience back on 16^th St. after so long an absence, staying on the narrow sidewalk out of the sun in temperatures of over 90 degrees, was running past the gauntlet of all the smokers standing in a row, looking miserable, inhaling their cancerous smoke, and blowing it for all the rest of society to consume. Ahh, the mountain air of Col...hack, cough, wheeze...orado!

I had heard from many sources about the increase in homeless along 16^th St. I didn't think much of it. I see a lot of homeless on my layovers. Honolulu has quite a few. I see them in Seattle and certainly when I'm in San Francisco (of course in SF, one can have a decent-paying job and still be homeless!). But oh, my, they have intensified here; to the point where it really detracts from what should be a positive experience. Hand made signs on boxes; shopping carts standing by for treasures dug from trash cans; half naked youth making weird signs with their hands while talking foully to friends a block away as if in some gang; the mentally unstable yelling at the top of their lungs to either no one or invisible entities who might be shouting things back. It's quite the festive scene, and until you've smelled a group of homeless sweating in 95 degree heat smoking cigarette butts found on the ground, you've not been festive enough! Whee-you!

Looking East along 16th Street

I did endure the heat well enough to walk to the end of the long pedestrian street. I got my slice of flying pizza and happened into a Krispy Kreme donuts on their first day to be open. I spent some time in the Money Museum of the Federal Reserve Bank in hopes that samples would be given (and they were...only, the money was quite well shredded and quite unusable for me). I did find a great price on a new pair of layover shoes, just like the old days.

Street buffalo art

There is a lot that is great about walking around downtown Denver. I love the interchange of new and old architecture and the colorful flowers. I really enjoy the numerous brightly-painted pianos left in the middle of the street with ivory ready to be tickled by anyone who passes by. I love that cannabis is legal and enjoyed an occasional wafting scent being enjoyed in public. And I really love the glimpses of white-capped mountains peeking from between skyscrapers of steel and glass.

I'm going to be so rich one day!

And just like that, time winds down. The office workers who were on their lunch break return to their offices. The streets empty just a bit for the tourists and more homeless. Young men and women emerge in sweaty Lycra from various gyms to show off svelte bodies and toned arms and legs. And Penguin waddles back to his cool hotel room to survey it all from the comfort of another layover hotel room window, high above it all. Mission accomplished. I do love my long downtown layovers!




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Passenger of the Day: Baby Mama

Perhaps it's why she arranged their seating in this manner, as I could hear her in the aisle as I set up the aft galley. She traveled with her husband and two children and commented on the fact that their seating was two on one side of the plane and two on the other. “Well, we should be able to switch seats around a bit. No one will want to sit next to the kids. She put the boys, aged 2 and 4, on one side of the plane and she sat next to her husband. Between them was an aisle and two seats.

This would do for now, so I left them alone and went back to setting things up in the galley.

At the start of the safety demo, I knew I was going to have to fix things in that last row with Baby Mama. When I got to the last row, I found two things: no one else had joined them in that row, and Baby Mama had moved to the aisle seat next to the children. But right after takeoff, she moved back next to her husband. 

Penguin learning how to be safe at emergency training

“Hi, there. I just need to let you know that someone is going to have to sit next to the young children over there,” I said, smiling warmly to her. She protested. “I'm sorry, but an adult needs to be with children of that age, in case the oxygen masks deploy. They need help reaching the masks and putting them on.”

“Well, I can just move over if that happens,” she shot back.

“I'm sorry, it doesn't always happen that way. In a sudden decompression, you won't be able to move over. The plane will be in a dive, things will be blowing all around, sight will be limited due to fog created by the sudden change in pressure, people will be screaming, masks flying back, gasses expelling from your body, flashes of your life whipping by...mass pandemonium.”

Oxygen mask compartment open for repairs

Of course, most of that was inside voice. But she got the picture and rolled her eyes. With a big sigh, she moved next to them. For the remainder of the 3 hour trip, the two adults took turns sitting next to the boys, who never seemed to look up from their entertainment device.

As we began decent into our destination, the movie the boys had been watching ended and the two became a bit unruly; fussing and whining. Baby Mama was on the A side and Dad was next to the boys. I was behind them in the galley getting ready for the double chimes to sound; our queue to prepare the cabin for landing. Baby Mama suggested to Dad that they separate the boys, “Why don't you hand one over here,” she stated. The father silently complied (I don't know that I heard him speak even once during the flight). He picked up the nearest child and began to hand him over.

She quickly shot to him, “Not that one!” Had I liquid in my mouth, I'm certain the spit take would have been one to rival the best comedians. Having no liquid in my mouth, my other option was to double over in laughter...silent but for the sudden outburst of a chuckle. I looked back and my flying partner had obviously heard the comment, as well, for she was nearly on the floor laughing, in tears, having wet herself slightly.

That's some good parenting!

Foggy cabin

Adventures in Flight: Drama Llama

Stop

My parents live on a ranch in Colorado. On the neighboring ranch can be seen a llama. It's a lone llama, eating grass alongside horses in the mountains. It's a cute llama, as llamas go, and I enjoy reminding it that its mama is a llama. Mom, on the other hand, calls out to it, “Llama llama ding dong.” Don't judge...I know you talk to animals, too. I'm not sure if this llama has much drama in its life, but I'm willing to bet if there is, it's that damned llama's doing!

Flight attendants often have drama in their lives that for some reason, can make its way into the cabin- or least the galley. I try to avoid drama like fruitcake, but one can't always be successful in doing so. Sometimes, it's just a short little drama story. But every now and then the drama gets more intense.

We have all seen the news report of the flight attendants getting into fisticuffs with one another on a flight overseas, which had to be diverted when it got severe enough. I've never seen the drama reach such lofty heights and I hope I never have to.

Let me out...too much drama!

It was during the boarding process; I was greeting passengers and the purser was in the galley setting things up and preparing pre departure drinks for first class. One woman entered wearing a dark blue dress with white polka dots. I could tell from her bag that she was a flight attendant, so I said a warm hello and invited her to let me know if she needed anything. I always treat my passengers very well, but I also make sure to take great care of my fellow crew.

This woman took a few steps into the aisle and stopped, waiting to reach her seat. The purser stands up and leans in, but in not the quietest tone asks, “Do you see that woman, there? The one in the blue dress?”

“With the polka dots?” I confirm.

“Yes...that one,” she states with venom in her tone.

Ignoring drama

She starts into some story about not knowing her but having a mutual friend (an ex-mutual friend as it turns out) and this woman in the polka dots pulled her line and circled items and tried to turn it in to management, anonymously, which can't be done because they can pull a history trail. Long story short, friends were lost, supervisors were met with, molehills became mountains and here they are all these years later ending up on the same plane together.

I don't get involved in drama. Later, Miss Dots, while smiling, made a comment to me, “I'm sure you heard all about me from the purser...”

“Well, she said something, but I don't do drama. May I get you something to drink?”

Meanwhile, anytime I entered the first class galley, the purser was quick to state, “She gets nothing!” My flying partner in the back was of the same mind. Miss Dots didn't do anything to me. I'm not going to be brought into the middle of their spat, which occurred years ago, and even admittedly from the purser, Miss Dots now regrets ever having gotten involved.

Of the same mind one minute, drama the next. The woman I was working with began her story of drama in her home life. Issues with a mutual friend who is racist but using their service to our country as an excuse and yadda yadda yadda. She droned on for a while and I feigned interest until saved by a call light in the cabin from a woman needing a cup of water.

Chicago 747

Being amongst pretty white horses and grazing on grass in the mountains surely must be a drama-free life. I try to make my life as much like that as possible. I need more mountains and less grazing, but any time I can avoid drama, I do it! You can be the drama llama if you want, but please leave me out...lest you want to get a Christmas fruit cake from Penguin! (And no one wants that!)











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View to a Thrill: Checking Inn

A Marriott

Inside Voice has a sassy personality that I can't always control. I try to keep Inside Voice silent, but sometimes it just blurts out. Inside Voice's favorite response to the question, “Does Mother Airline pay for your hotels?” is, “No, we sleep in the terminal in makeshift shanty towns of lost and found coats and jackets and old seat cushions.” Inside Voice can be so sassy. Of course Mother Airlines provides for our hotels.

It's said that back in the day, flight attendants had to bunk up and share a room. Today, our contract provides language of certain expectations for our hotel layovers. They must be of a certain standard (sorry, Best Western and Howard Johnson, our standards are high), be located in a safe environment, have food available, provide Internet access, provide no smoking rooms and a room for each crew member. Bunking up is strictly at the whims of the crew involved. (And yes, there have been times I've willingly bunked up, but that is for a completely different series!)

Most of our crew hotels are of the caliber of Marriott, Doubletree, Hyatt or Sheraton. One of the things I enjoy about my job the most are the layovers. I love the chance to get out and explore, engage in new cultures, see how people live and work, and enjoy a nice hotel room. Some hotels are fantastic to stay in. Others are quite mundane. Only a few were bad enough that I would never wish them on anyone else! (I'm looking at you DC.)

Almost any crew member will readily admit that there is nothing better than staying in a hotel that is attached to the airport. Not having to wait for the van, tip the driver or spend time in transport, are a huge bonus! It's a fairly rare, bonus, however, as most of our layovers require the van ride.

My favorite hotel chain is probably Marriott, although I love the free cookies when you check in at a Doubletree. But with Marriott, you know that no matter what city you're in, you're going to have the same basic room...down to the same desk and lamp. It's sort of nice to have that expectation. Of course, that doesn't help in trying to figure out in which city you're in. “Wasn't I in this room last night?”

I'm often hear jealousy from others of all the room service I must take advantage of. Room service is a nice luxury, however, if I were to do it on a regular basis, I'd need another job to support the habit. Yes, most hotels give us a small discount- usually 15%. But most hotels tack on a 20% charge plus a fee for the opportunity to have someone bring your meal to your room. I've only taken advantage of room service at a hand full of hotels; once when the crew discount for food was 50% and perhaps a few times when I just didn't feel like getting dressed and going down for food.

The Peabody Hotel in Memphis

I've found a routine in entering a room and I'm not sure if I should attribute this to be slightly anal retentive or just comforted in having a routine for the many hotels in which I stay. Number one is safety and locating my exits in case of emergency. I enter the room and inspect it for intruders and odors. I refuse rooms that still have a lingering odor of cigarettes.

Off comes the tie and my airline ID badge, then the shoes. As I take off my watch, I verify that the room's clock is correctly set; you'd be surprised at how many times I have to adjust a clock. After this, I adjust the thermometer. I like the room to be between 67-70 degrees. In a hot locale, I may turn it down as low as 60!

Now it's time to lose the uniform, hanging it in the closet. Then I set out the items in the bath room on a washcloth; toothbrush and paste, comb, meds, deodorant, cologne, cotton swabs, liquid soap (I bring my own so I don't waste the hotel's on a single use) and like a rock star's dressing room, it's always set out in the same fashion. After all, I am a rock star. Of sorts.

Once this is complete, I may need to facilitate...or as some might say, use the oval office. Usually, when I get to a hotel room, I've been working a long day—as long as 16 hours. Airplane lavs are disgusting and I avoid having to sit in one at all costs.

Not every hotel has a heliport...but this one does!

As my name-sake might suggest, I don't like a lot of heat, so the next thing I do is remove the down comforter from the bed. When I started this job 15 years ago, it was rare to see down on any hotel bed in the US. But today, 99% of the hotels in which I stay have down. It gets old ripping the bed apart and making it back every time I'm in a hotel room. The only times I can handle sleeping under a hot down comforter is when I make the room 60 degrees or colder!

It's at this point that I can do what I need to do. On a short layover, that means going right to bed, as by this point I may have an alarm set for as little as 6 hours later (Flight attendants often have only an 11 hour layover, which is block-to-block, meaning once you subtract deplaning, getting to the hotel, checking in, doing the above settling in, getting up, showering, dressing, getting back to the airport and starting work an hour prior to takeoff for passenger boarding, you're only left with 6-7 hours for sleeping!)

If sleeping is not necessary right away, I'm usually on my computer to write a story, checking email or chat with friends all over the globe. When I have a longer layover, I really love getting out to explore and take photos or working out in the gym.

Exploring on a layover in Pittsburgh

They are our chance to recharge. They are our home away from home. They are nice, comfortable and if we're lucky, close to things we enjoy doing if we have enough time to do them. Yes, a nice hotel after a long day flying the skies is just the thing needed between flights.


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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.