Posted on

Passenger of the Day: Shaken and Stirred

Sunset clouds

Every now and then you’ll get a great pilot who likes to come out of his cave…er…cockpit and actually interact with passengers. They do have a lot to do up there before a flight; check lists, write ups, fuel sheets, weights and balance figures, the walk around, a quick call to the wife and or girlfriend. This flight had the type of captain who came into the cabin at the end of the boarding process with information on the weather at our destination and in flight. He mentioned an area of storms that we’d be passing on our way to the East Coast. I could see 3E’s face tighten. Another example of the captain meaning well and having to make me come in afterwards and smooth ruffed up feathers.
When he was done with his presentation, he returned to the switches and knobs of the cockpit and I began to pick up pre-departure cups from my passengers in first class. When I got the 3rd row, Nervous Flyer stopped me.
The woman in 3E was sharply dressed and very pleasant. She wore a tan outfit with sparkly jewelry, including a corded necklace ending with an elaborate-looking tassel. She smiled often and used pleasantries any time we spoke.
“The captain said it might be a bit bumpy in flight?” she asked sheepishly.
“There is a chance we may have a few bumps. I’m sure it won’t be bad. Do you not like bumps?” I asked.
“No, I’m what they call a nervous flyer.”
“My mother was a nervous flyer when I started this job. She’s great with flying now. I told her how much safer she was in the air than on the ground. The most dangerous part of the trip was the drive home!”
“I’ve heard that,” she said.
I continued, “I actually love turbulence.” She made a face. “I know, I’m one of those…” She laughed, but still appeared a bit nervous.
I went on to explain a little about turbulence and what causes it. I told her to imagine a pot of boiling water. The air can be much like that pot of boiling water, with bubbles of air rising and falling in the atmosphere. When the plane encounters these rising bubbles of air you get turbulence.
She greatly appreciated the visual and said she felt much better, but she’d be keeping an eye on me.
“Don’t tell me,” I interrupted, “you keep an eye on the flight attendant knowing that if they are calm, everything is OK, but if they look concerned, you should be as well.”
“Yeah,” she said.
There is nothing to fear.
“My mom told me that when I first started flying!” It’s something I’ve always remembered. To this day, if I hear a noise from the plane that is out of the ordinary, or I get a call on the interphone from the pilots about weather ahead, I act nonchalant and calm; smile on my face. Even if they’re only

calling for a lavatory break, people in the cabin don’t know why I’m on the phone. For all they know, there’s a fire in the cargo hold, a wheel just fell off, or we are serving only fruit cake.

As if often the case, the pilot’s reports were not entirely accurate and the flight ensued with very few bumps at all. It’s almost disappointing when we get notified of reports of turbulence coming up and then nothing happens. Passengers get up and we advise them, “Please take a seat, the captain has told us that we are expecting turbulence and we want you to be safe.” Then nothing happens and the seat belt sign gets turned off and I look like a liar. Happens all the time. I call the flight deck, “Hey, can’t you make it bounce for just a bit?”
Night flying
Yeah, I like turbulence. I like to feel the plane fly. But, I have hurt my knee when a jolt threw me to the floor. One of the most fun episodes was when I was trapped in the rear of a 747 coming home from Sydney. Fortunately, there were a lot of open seats, so when the plane began to dance through the air during our meal service, I was able to park the dinner cart and take a seat. The plane bounced so much that meals began to fall out the other end of the cart and onto the floor. All I could do was sit there and listen to the clatter.
People have died in turbulence, shooting out of their seats and hitting their head on the ceiling. It can be very dangerous and sudden. So when you are asked to do so, for your safety, and the safety of those around you, please, return to your seat and fasten your seat belt. And keep the over head bins closed. Thank you.
Please click a reaction below and leave a comment! Thanks.
Posted on

My Favorite Things: Coming ‘Write’ Up

A United Airlines 737 in snowy Chicago

There are so many components that go into a flight and there are many chances for things to go wonky. Between catering, passenger issues, weather, medical events, and mechanical issues, it’s nearly rare when nothing goes wrong.
There are many reports in aviation. Reports are vital for aircraft maintenance, so any time there is an issue on board that involves the mechanics, we must report them. We call them write ups and they can be for anything as minor as reporting that the carpet is coming loose at a seam or a reading light being out at one of the seats, to larger issues such as a jumpseat not working properly or an overhead bin won’t stay shut.
Recently, before closing the door to the aircraft, I noticed a wire loose, just sticking out and waving hello to me, from inside the frame. That didn’t look right to me, so I asked the captain to come take a look at it. Wires should be mounted at each end, not waving to flight crew!

No engine = a lot of reports!
In the end, it turned out to be a grounding wire. Nearly everything on an airplane is redundant (there are more than one, so if one system goes inoperative, it has a back up), and the same was true in this instance. Eventually, we were OK’d to take off and the issue was differed, meaning they would fix it at a later time. But it doesn’t end there. There’s always paperwork to fill out. A report in triplicate, rubber stamped, blessed and accompanied by a note from your mother. Many times something is a simple fix, but waiting for the paperwork to get completed by maintenance is the reason for a wait.
For flight attendants, we have reports for catering discrepancies, reports for using medical equipment, reports for FAA violations, or those who violate FAA regulations. We have reports for injuries, reports for extended delays and reports for safety issues. Thinking back, I’m shocked we didn’t have a class in initial training for report writing!
I’m good with reports. I enjoy writing and I’ve spent a number of years working in the field of security, including one year working with the Secret Service at the official residence of our 41st president of the United States. I’m pretty good with detail and keeping out emotions. Just the facts, ma’am. I’ve been told my reports are some of the best.
What’s funny is the common thinking amongst flight attendants about safety…“Please take your seat, the seat belt sign is on and I don’t want to do the paperwork if you get injured.” It’s true. But what’s really true is that nearly every trip has one report or another, and sometimes two or more. In fact, the very day after writing this story, I had a man pass out and require oxygen. He was able to walk off the flight on his own accord, and I had yet another report to fill out when I got home.
Fixing an oxygen mask compartment.

So working a trip and getting home and finding that I have no notes for any reports to fill out, doesn’t happen all the time. It’s nice that all of our reports are now done on line, so at least I can do them from the comfort of home. One of the best things about my job is that I can totally leave it behind once I leave the aircraft…save for a report or two. But when I have none, it sure is nice. It’s my favorite.

Posted on

Adventures in Flight: Prima Donnas and Princesses

It was just a trip to Los Angeles and back; two and a half hours there, sit for an hour, three hours back. It looked good on paper, sounded decent; nine hour duty day. But this was one of those days where I got to use my saying: I really earned my money.
Normally, I enjoy being purser on domestic trips, but I’m not all that experienced in doing the position on wide body aircraft. I can manage just fine, but I’m not very comfortable and I’d rather not. That was just how the rest of the crew felt about this 767, and since I was the most junior, I was stuck doing it. The purser works in first class, is responsible for making announcements, is the main contact with the pilots and handles any unusual situations that pop up. The pay is slightly higher, but it’s not always worth it.
It was a day full of prima donnas, princesses and an ass hat or two. Let’s start with the first ass hat. He was tall, odd looking and very special- at least that was what he thought. The flight attendant working first class with me asked if I knew him, like if he was famous. She thought he looked like a magician or something. I had no idea. I just know he was special; the manner in which he demanded things instead of asking, complaining about our Wi-Fi, getting up to use the lavatory, which was locked for take off, while I was in the middle of making the announcement to stay seated when the seat belt sign was on.
Of course, he had to have two drinks, asked for more hot nuts, of which there none, and let me know as I was still passing out trays of food to other passengers that he was done eating and I could take his. Since I don’t pick up dirty trays while still serving other passengers, he got to sit there with his tray until I was good and ready to pick it up. He even waved me off once, which I just ignored, as I always do when that happens. I’m a safety professional, not your waiter!
Then, there was Princess Wine, who would continually ask for more as I passed her seat. It seemed like she would always ask for it just as I was returning to the galley to get it, which made me feel as if I were acquiescing to her demands each time and not just doing my job. It was classy, how she reached a point to where she would just tap her glass while looking down her nose at me to indicate that she wanted more. It was like, “Hey, I’ve got 18 people to serve dinner to here, you’re not alone in first class, I’m only one person. You’ll get your wine, just be patient.”
Just behind her was Princess Salad. Another task of the purser is to take the meal orders. My galley guy had told me we were serving salad with chicken and a side of tomato soup, or a hot chicken sandwich. It turned out that the salad had roast beef and it was onion soup. I sat her tray down and before I could explain what was going on, she scrumpled her face and huffed, “Um, what is this? I don’t eat beef!” I offered to bring her a new salad with no meat. “I don’t eat lettuce!” she demanded.
“You don’t eat lettuce?” I asked.
“No!”
“But you ordered the salad…” I shot back.
“I was expecting ‘chicken salad’.”
“No one expects chicken salad,” said my inside voice (among other things) a-la the line from the movie “History of the World”… “No one expects the Spanish Inquisition!” Oy.
Soon after this, Mr. Lost and Confused asked to buy duty free items. “Sir, that’s only available on international flights.” He’d just have to wait for his next flight, which was to South America.
A few seats back in coach was a prima donna. Her greeting? “I don’t have a tray table!”
“Well, hello to you, too,” (inside voice again). Her response after showing her that it was in her arm rest, “Oh. Well…my video monitor isn’t working! My movie quit playing and all I get is this.”
“Ma’am, it’s not working because ‘this’ is the safety demo. You have to watch it. Everyone has to watch it.” She huffed once more and I had to stop myself from laughing.
And then, sometimes it’s the little things. While taking meal orders, a man approaches and asked me for assistance. I follow him to his seat and he shows me a spill. I see a white liquid…some sort of…milk? It’s spilling from his video monitor, mounted on the back of the seat pod in front of him, where, somehow, milk was spilled during take-off and was now running down and spilling onto the seat pod behind. I grabbed some wet towels and assisted both he and the woman in front in cleaning up the mess. Next to the woman in front was Daddy, holding a sleeping child of only several months. He simply sat there smiling at me, holding the swaddled life form. It was then that I realized the milk I was cleaning up, and that was all over my hands, was BREAST MILK! Yes, classy times in first class, as usual.
And, it’s the little things, such as at least 3 people not paying attention, so oblivious, that even waving my hand in front of them, it took several seconds to notice me, standing there with their food. You’re in row 3. You’ve seen me serving all the people in front of you. You ordered a meal. You have your drink. The next step in the progression of things is a tray of kibble delivered to you. Put your laptop away and pull out the damned tray table so I can put this heavy tray down in front of you. No, don’t try to take the tray from me…where do you expect to put it? Pull out your tray table. Yes, that thing there. Really? (You know, your flight attendant can tell who got the upgrades from coach, right?)
An LAX landing
Then I get to the last row of first class- center seat. He was a dead heading captain; a nice guy. He didn’t ask for much, a can of sparkling water, a ramekin of hot nuts, no meal, thank you. After the service I went to check on him again to make sure he had all that he needed. He told me he’d been watching me do the service, and seeing that there were some difficult passengers, and that we were dealing with a very bumpy flight, that he was very impressed at how I managed things.
He went on, “You know, a passenger can have a bad day, a lousy drive to the airport, a curt gate agent, a gate change, a long wait in line to board. They can have so many negative issues before they get on the plane, but the thing that really makes a difference is the flight attendant. A flight attendant who gives really good service can make all that other stuff melt away. They land and walk out of the terminal and are asked, ‘how was your flight?’ and they say it was great…because of people like you, who care about their jobs and smile and make things seem flawless. I’ve been doing this for 24 years, and you’re one of the best.”
I listened to him as my head swelled, I smiled, touched his shoulder and thanked him. It was a long work week, only four days, but days where I had to drive to work each one of them; no layover trips. Two days were on standby at the airport, hoping for a flight, but not being used and after sitting for four hours, was then sent back home. Days tired because of yet another bout of insomnia, a terrible affliction very common to flight crews who deal with an ever-changing schedule, where I had not gotten more than 5 hours of sleep in a row but once in over two weeks.
“Sir,” I said to him, “thank you. That makes my day. I’m fortunate to love my job.”
Another saving grace of this trip was that I worked with a fantastic crew. One thing that really makes my job easy is a galley person who knows what he’s doing, anticipates needs and can handle being delegated little tasks while the aisle flight attendants are doing their thing in the aisles. We all got along, shared stories and laughs, and after the flight was over, compared our ‘war stories’ from the flight.
You land, walk to the bus, get to the parking lot, drive home, and it’s all left behind. This was my Friday and I have three delightful days off. I earned my money today, but it was a great day and now it’s all left behind me. I’ve said it before, even some of my worst days at work are better than many people’s best day at theirs.
Posted on

Adventures in Flight: Penguin in the Left Seat

The sun had set and a dark purple curtain of darkness had fallen. There wasn’t enough light to be illuminating, yet it wasn’t quite dark enough to say it was night time. I could still see the features of landscape in the distance, but only as darkened objects against the lighter colored sky. I sat in the left seat of a 747 cockpit, the one normally reserved for the plane’s captain. I’m no captain. I’m not even a pilot. I would like to be, but I’m not. But there I was, sitting in the left seat; the engines turning and the lights at the forward landing gear lighting up the centerline of the runway.

In front of me was runway 28-right, the longest of the four runways at San Francisco’s International Airport. A real captain was in the right seat next to me and he hit a switch, turning on the plane’s landing lights, thus illuminating the runway from one side to the other. Past the runway I could see San Bruno Mountain with its antenna towers blinking on and off. I looked to my left and could see the headlights of the cars moving along highway 101 and was happy to not be sitting in the backup of traffic. To my right was the company’s large maintenance hangar and the San Francisco bay was beyond that.

Captain Henry was more than my co-pilot today. He was guiding me through the step by step process of our mission. He finished inputting data into the plane’s computer and we were ready to roll. But first he wanted me to experience taxiing this behemoth. At his instruction, I pushed the throttles forward just over an inch. I heard the engines rev up, felt the vibration and then the plane slowly started to move. With my left hand on the tiller, I began to control the direction the plane went. As we lurched forward, the wheels began to run across the centerline lights and I could feel the plane vibrate over them.

A747 photo by Penguin Scott

I felt like this was a dream. I’ve longed to ride in a 747 cockpit for a very long time. I remember taking a small Cessna from Maryland to New Jersey back in 1999; I was so excited. After we landed, I spoke to my pilot friend about how great it would be to fly in the cockpit of a commercial jetliner. He agreed, and I’ve since done that. But here I was, in the cockpit- the left seat at that- at the controls. It was no dream.

I was instructed to turn right, off of runway 28R, and return the plane to its takeoff position at the start of the long runway. Capt. Henry gave me a stern warning- I was turning too soon. “Don’t forget, the wheels are behind you. You have to pass the center line and then make the turn.” While saying this, he assisted me with the tiller on his side of the cockpit and corrected my mistake. It was a hard thing for me to learn as I did it again on my next turn, for which I was rewarded with another stern warning.

Steering a plane is nothing like steering a car. It doesn’t respond well to small corrections made often. Basically, what I needed to do was put the tiller in one position and let it go. Constant corrections only make the plane continually zig-zag down the taxiway. By the time I learned this, my taxi was complete.

Back at the start of runway 28R, we were now ready for take off. I was buckled in and ready for the task of letting this 747 loose, to tear down the runway and lift off into the night sky. Capt. Henry instructed me to push the throttles forward. There were four; one for each engine, and they all moved in sync. It took a second and then the power hit the engines and the plane lurched forward, gaining speed down the runway. I asked the captain when to rotate. He seemed impressed with my knowledge of this.

When I was in flight attendant initial training, nine years previous, I had the opportunity to sit in a cockpit for the duration of a flight, from push back to block-in. After taking off, I had the chance to ask questions. This is when I learned that the point at which the pilot pulls back on the stick to make the plane take off is the point at which one of the pilots say, “Rotate.” And now, in the 747 cockpit, not sure if he’d state that point of the takeoff roll or not, Capt. Henry said he’d tell me when to do so.

About half way down the runway, he told me to pull back. I did and the plane lifted up. Capt. Henry pushed a lever and the wheels retracted. I could hear them do so and could feel them take their place in the wheel well somewhere below me, just as I had felt so many times before from inside the airplane cabin. He pointed to an artificial horizon (or the attitude indicator) on a screen in front of me and showed me at what point to keep the nose on the screen to keep our current rate of climb. If the plane started to sink below this line, I pulled back a bit. If it started to get too high, I pushed down. Then I was instructed to make a left turn.

As I began to turn the stick, and as the plane began to bank to the left, I noticed that I was losing my rate of climb, so I pulled back on the stick. It was difficult and took a bit of strength. I was concentrating so hard on keeping the rate of climb, that I ignored the turn. I got another stern warning from the right seat, “Watch your turn or you’ll end up in the drink,” which was slang for water, or in this case, the Pacific Ocean.

We were now over the water just off the coast of Pacifica, which was my home. I looked up and out of the cockpit window and we were in a very steep bank. He grabbed the wheel in front of him and corrected it back to a normal left turn. It was a good thing the cockpit has two sets of throttles so he could make the flight corrections we needed.

His warnings reminded me a lot of my grandfather teaching me to drive. I spent my summers visiting my grandparents in the Texas Panhandle. Once I had my learner’s permit, he went with me on a short drive. He had a tendency to sound a bit more stern than I’m sure he meant to, but he made his point and was concerned about me wrapping his nice car around a pole, or worse, another car. And like my grandfather, Capt. Henry was concerned about our safety, not to mention that of our flight.

The turn was completed and we were now flying steady at about eight thousand feet just off the coast of California. I could see the car lights on Hwy. 1. Capt. Henry instructed the woman in the jump seat directly behind me to hit a switch and suddenly the windows went blank; nothing to see but a gray screen. Another switch was hit and the windows came back to life. Suddenly, the view changed to about five miles south of the airport. We were now over the bay, frozen in time, suspended as if in a video game.

But this was no ordinary video game. This was a multi million dollar simulator, used by the best pilots of the company for training purposes. My captain in the right seat was a flight instructor. And I had just taxied and taken off a 747 airplane. Not a real one, of course. But you can’t get any closer to the real thing than one of these simulators. From the traffic on highway 101 and the blinking lights of the towers on San Bruno Mountain, to the wheels crossing the lights on the runway and the feel of the wheels retracting after takeoff, everything was as real as the real thing itself.

From the outside, I was in a contraption supported by numerous jacks that control a motion platform. On the inside, I was in a 747 cockpit just like any other in our fleet. Inputs made from inside controlled the motion platform, which was calibrated in such a manner that even the slightest motion, like the wheel going over the center line, made a movement noticeable in the cockpit.

A flight simulator

We were now ready to land, and with the hit of another switch we were again moving. The lights of the city below were angled as the nose of the plane was pointed at the beginning of the runway we were about to land on. As we crossed the San Mateo Bridge, he lowered the landing gear. As they locked into place, they added drag on the plane’s flight, and we could feel that in the cockpit as slight vibrations. Looking at the attitude indicator, I kept the box on the artificial horizon where it was supposed to be for our landing. I thought Capt. Henry did most of the flying on the approach, but he swears it was all me. I know this plane can land itself, and it really did seem to fly quite easily.

The plane came to a stop. I had landed. The switches were hit and the screens went blank again. When they came back on, we were at the start of runway 28R once more. I got out of the left seat and Sandy, the flight attendant seated behind me climbed in. Now it was her turn to fly and mine to observe.

I was at our main training facility for my annual recurrent emergency training (RET) to refresh my skills of being a flight attendant. Once a year, we are required to practice opening and closing airplane doors, drill emergency procedures, recertify our AED and CPR skills, and get hands on experience using emergency equipment, such as fire extinguishers. I normally do this at my home base in the Bay Area, where I also live. But for some reason, this year I was sent to the facility where the pilots also train. And after a few of us in class expressed interest in a tour of one of the huge simulators, our instructor was able to arrange for Capt. Henry to meet us early the next day. I had no idea he’d actually let us “fly”, but it was the thrill of a lifetime!

After we completed our takeoff and landing, we went to class, a bit later than planned. I was so excited that I was actually still shaky from the experience. The instructor had informed the class as to why we were late and he asked me how I liked it. I told him that I felt much the same way after my first time sky diving. It was a thrill, exhilarating, and a dream come true. I was on a high like none other! Every nerve tingled. Every sense was alive. I had just taxied, taken off and landed a 747. Not a real one, but the realest I’ll ever get. It was an amazing experience that I’ll not soon forget!

A 747 landing at LAX