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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
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Adventures in Flight: I Know What You Were Doing

While you were dancing with sugar plums in your head, I was flying from London to San Francisco. I wore a gold and white Santa hat I bought in Japan. Working in business class I served passengers who loved the hat and were so thankful to me and the crew for working on the holiday. I love making people happy like that!
You were stuffing yourself with turkey, dressing and potatoes, while I was eating more meat than was on Noah’s Ark. I left on Thanksgiving for Sao Paolo, Brazil. At the two-for-one happy hour, we met up with a crew from D.C. Drunk on Caipirinha‘s, Brazil’s national (and very powerful drink)we all went to a Brazilian steak house. The salad bar would have been enough to eat, but then came the servers in national garb slicing off skewers of pork, beef, sausage, lamb, venison, duck, chicken and yes, turkey.
While you were opening presents on Christmas morning, I was walking around Diamond Head in Hawaii,

Hawaiian Santa

marveling at the numerous Santa displays in store windows and yards with him wearing colorful beach shorts instead of his furry red suit. Santa in a kayak, Santa on a surf board, Santa only in swim trunks. It was the first time in my life I spent a Christmas morning in such heat and humidity; no snow or snowmen. Finally, I knew what it must belike to celebrate Yule in the southern hemisphere, as, up to that point, I had not been in that part of the world during Christmas.

As you kissed your loved one at midnight withthe mirroredball dropping, I was watching the two magnificent pyrotechnicshowsput on over Sydney Harbor. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen more fireworks in one day in my life. The first show was as 9PM. I viewed it from a large hotel room obtained by a crew member from LAX for the purpose of hosting a party for all crew members. For the midnight show, we ventured to a park near Darling Harbor where we could see itfrom the watersideand viewthe bridge with the Opera House beyond.
While you were watching Thanksgiving Day football, I was at 36,000 feet sitting in first class eating Mother Airline’s version of a Thanksgiving meal. It was not bad for turkey and dressing, with green beans, mashed potatoes and a slice of pumpkin cheesecake for dessert. I wasn’t working, so I was able to wash it down with white wine.
Another Christmas in uniform
As the little ones gasped in excitement over Santa’s haul, I sat at home on call, waiting for Mother Airline to need me for a trip. I enjoy working on Christmas, bringing loved ones together, sharing in the joy and cheer and, just for fun, wearing my red holiday pin that reads, “Scrooge was right.” For some reason, people always ask what that means. But all I have to say for them to understand it is, “Bah-humbug.”
It’s not just the winter holidays. You were digesting hot dogs, potato salad and waving the US flag on the 4thof July, while I was in a 14thfloor hotel room in San Diego watching fireworks in all directions. It was time to get to sleep for my flights the next day. It was difficult to do, as people continued to shoot off firecrackers, poppers, zippers, zingers, bangers and gongs for hours.
Or I was alone, sitting along the river in Cleveland with the masses enjoying patriotic music, watching children play while their adults drank. Then the rockets red glare took off to bursting in air to thunderous applause and oohs and ahs.

Cleveland on the 4th of July

I know what you were doing on your holidays. I’ve done them before. Now I’m a first responder, responsible for safety and security on airliners going to and fro. Now I fly the skies circling the globe to watch others celebrate with customs not familiar to me, with foods not typically found in my pantry, with people I don’t know but enjoy the company of. We all have one thing in common, we love our celebrations, our family time, our cheer and goodwill toward others. We all love a good party!
I love working holidays. I don’t work them all; I tend to rotate…Thanksgiving this year, Christmas next. New Years only if I have to. I know what you were doing. In many cases, I, along with my many flying partners, helped make it happen.

One Christmas in Osaka, Japan

Happy Holidays!
I know what you were doing
I have done it too
Celebrating Christmas
Or were you playing Scrooge?
I know what you were doing
Eating with family and friends
Traveling to be together
Cheering the bygone trends
Each year the circle spirals
And brings us back around
Enjoying all the holidays
And getting out of town
Gather your things and presents
We all love a great surprise
Travel to see your loved ones
Travel through the skies
I know what you were doing
Spending time with those you love
I may not be with folk I know
But I’m as happy as a dove
I help bring people together
Encouragingsmiles and laughs
From takeoff to arrival
On a big ole jet aircraft
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My Favorite Things: The Double Chime

An arrival in Lisbon

Whether it’s a great flight or one where, as I say, “I earned my money on that one!” there is no better sound than the double chime. Any flight attendant would agree. Ding…ding. At the end of the flight it means get in gear, the plane is now on final approach. If you’re working with a crew member as dry as a slice of fruit cake, it means in half an hour you most likely won’t fly with them again for a very long time. If you’re about to start vacation, it means that all though your brain has been on vacation for a week, your body is about to finally get in synch. If at the end of a trip assignment, it means that you’re home. After a long 4-day domestic trip, it’s simply the best sound in the universe.

The pilots engage the double chime when we descend to 10,000 feet. They do so by cycling the no smoking sign off and back on. Right after take off it tells us the cockpit is no longer sterile, a term that means we are not to disturb them. On approach it’s our signal to prepare for landing and that we can no longer bother the pilots with anything but safety related business.
At this point, we’ve picked up the trash and now we conduct our safety checks. No more pillows and blankets to hand out. No more water for your medicine. No more milk for your baby. It’s go time. Safety checks (seats forward, bags, tray tables, and head rest are stowed) and a jumpseat away from what we hope is a short taxi and then get off the plane…we want to go home!

Jet bridge controls

What is better is when the double chime sounds early. Flight crews, just like our wonderful passengers, love arriving early. I once had a layover in Hawaii and arrived an hour early, which was splendid. On a horrid, short layover in a worn-out airport hotel, an early arrival means just that much more rest before going at it the next day. And when home, I love it when I reach my car and look at my watch and think, ‘gee, had we been on time, I’d just now be touching down, yet here I am, in my Peng-UV, about join the masses on my commute home’. (Yes, I call my SUV a Peng-UV. Why not?)
There can be a down side to an early arrival, and don’t even mention it, for it is likely to happen. The dreaded ‘gate-is-occupied’. That’s the worst…arriving early and having to sit on the plane…on the ground…even longer after a long flight. But when the gate is free, and we’re early, that’s a good day.
Waiting for the jet bridge

Another bad thing is having a gate, arriving to it, the engines shut down and the passengers are right behind me, waiting for the door to be opened, but there is no gate agent to bring the jet bridge up. “I guess they weren’t expecting us this early,” I’ll say to those just behind me.

And it’s funny when we are due in early, the captain has stated as much on his several announcements, but a passenger will stop me to ask about a tight connection. I’ll look at their ticket and see that they had 50 minutes when we were to be on time. “No worries, ma’am, we’re due in 20 minutes early.”
You may notice often, flight crew standing in the galley at the end of the flight after the seat belt sign is on. We may be talking about our weekend or our next trip. We may be talking about the strange dude in 22A. We may be talking about the overly talkative pilots. But when you hear the double chime, you’ll see us smile and maybe do a little dance. The double chime. It’s my favorite!
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Passenger of the Day: Mr. Ebola

Health scares come and go and I’ve never understood them, nor have I fallen for them. I remember in the months after 9-11, the media going berserk about a few cases of possible ricin; a poisonous white powder found in packages sent to a few of our leaders and possibly left in aircraft lavatories. To watch the news, one would think a ricin apocalypse were on the brink of breaking out and if we didn’t heed the warnings of the talking heads, we’d all parish to bequeath the planet to the cockroaches. But I don’t recall anyone dying from it in the US (and I am unable to find reports of deaths on line in writing this).

When SARS broke out, I lost my job for a few months because people stopped flying. When first reported, again, one paying attention to the news reports would think the world were about to end. A report issued in the early months advised those paying attention that a common disease like influenza kills 20,000 people every year; 200 times as many people who had died of SARS.
But new health scares are what sells. Bird flu, penguin pox, fox news syndrome, hokey-pokey disease and most recently it was Ebola getting people’s attention. There were 18 cases of Ebola in Europe and the US. But to hear the chatter from friends and even some of my flying partners, you’d think there were a few zeros behind those 2 digits. I spoke to a friend who told me he’d kissed someone who had just been to Africa, and he was waiting for the incubation period to end to see if he had contracted the disease. Dr. Penguin assured him that, while he may have contracted something, a deadly African disease was not on the short list!

During the scare, friends asked me what procedures and training we have undergone at Mother Airline in the wake of this new threat to our way of life. In return, I tell them I no longer pay attention to the news reports!
Our training is already in place for dealing with health issues, and since this latest one, named after an Italian bowling score (ebola a perfect game-a) is only spread via direct contact with bodily fluids, and not an airborne contagion, I’m not all that concerned. Our universal precautions and frequent hand washing do the trick.
This isn’t to say that I totally ignore what is going on around me. I have the information I need, I have the tools and smarts to deal with the risks, and I have the knowledge that I have a greater risk of dying in a car wreck, from a tragic incident involving a mule or being hit by a fruit cake. Contracting the Ebola virus is extremely unlikely, but unlike with a mule, the potential threat is serious.
On a trip, to Oahu, Hawaii, I was in the aisle with the beverage cart during our initial service after taking off from Houston, when the girl I was working with came up to me with a bit of a frantic look on her face. “Why did they board the duty free catalogs and remove the Sky Mall magazines? We don’t sell duty free going to Hawaii. This gentleman in the hat asked to buy some cologne and I told him we don’t sell it. Then he told me he was disappointed to hear that, since he left his back at home in…” wait for it… “NIGERIA!” (Cue the music of impending doom.)
I looked over to see a very healthy looking man about my age, dark, black skin, nice shirt and a silly trucker-style ball cap, looking through a magazine. Yeah, he’s a killer, and he’s my passenger of the day; Mr. Ebola.
We advised the other crew members of the man on board who was transiting from a region of the world known to have a contagious disease, as we are trained to do. What didn’t help things along was that a woman in 3A got sick in the first class lavatory after asking for an air sickness bag, and the flight attendant came to ask me if I thought we should lock it off. I asked if she had made a mess in there, but the flight attendant was too scared to open the door to take a look. She wanted to ask if the woman had come from Africa, but was too frightened. To quell her fears, I went to the woman and first comforted her, “I hear you’re not feeling well, is there anything I can get for you?”
“Oh, no, I’m feeling much better,” she said, and she looked quite chipper and was smiling. She assured me that she had just had too much chai in the airport; 2 cups, back to back, in fact, and now that she got it all out of her system, things were feeling normal again.
“That’s great, and you do look very well. By the way, have you been traveling to any place that would be of concern to us?”
She smiled, knowingly and I got the answer I suspected, a ‘no’. I informed the nervous flight attendant, who seemed to have a large weight taken from her shoulders, and she thanked me profusely for dealing with the situation for her.
Later in the flight, I was told the story of when Mr. Ebola walked to the aft galley to purchase some food. In handing over his credit card, he first licked his finger, as if he were thumbing through the pages of a book. Ebola or not, that was sort of gross. I asked if surely she didn’t handle the saliva-soaked credit card after his doing so. No, she turned around and got a paper towel from the dispenser, took the credit card in the paper towel, never touching it, and returned it to him in the same fashion. Nice.
I’m very sensitive to the manner in which I pick up trash from passengers. Five years ago, I contracted a virus, most likely from flying, that nearly took me from this mortal plane. I always use a bag for picking up trash and always wash my hands afterwords. I’m cautious, but not paranoid.
After we landed, a group of us went to dinner, and while the Giants played Kansas City on the TV, I asked, “Well, now that we all have Ebola, who’s buying dinner?” Nervous looks were thrown around the table for a second, and upon discovering that none of us had bought into the fear, we all had a good laugh. Penguin 1—Ebola 0.
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Adventures in Flight: Meeting Iselle

   

I hear the big island of Hawaii has never taken a hit from a hurricane, not for any particular reason, other than just luck. It’s been over 20 years since a hurricane has hit the islands. While I’ve certainly been to the islands numerous times in the past 14 years, apparently, for no other reason than just luck, a storm finally nuzzles the Big Island and Mother Airline gives me a trip there.
Growing up in Houston, hurricanes aren’t anything new to me. I remember one storm that passed right over us. I awoke to sideways-falling rain and heavy winds. We hadn’t lived in the home long, and one of our newly planted trees was leaning to the right, dancing and shimmying as the storm pushed through. The eye passed over and the air got still and dry, the sun even peeked out for a bit, as if to see what was going on below. Then things went back to hurricane mode as we caught the back side, and that poor tree now leaned as far to the left as it had to the right, as the winds on the back side of a hurricane blow in the opposite direction.
I’ve always loved a good storm. Strong winds amaze me and as long as I’m dry, I don’t mind rain. I was excited to be going to Hawaii the day the storm, Iselle, was supposed to land. The trip was only scheduled to be a turn, meaning a 13 hour duty day, 5 hour flight there, and about the same coming home. Turns are tough to work and there are times the crew goes illegal, meaning the flight goes longer than we are allowed to fly. It’s happened to me before, and is why I always take my suitcase for turns- especially this time.
The crew I worked with was about as excited about the storm as I was. One, who had not been minding the news, wasn’t aware of the hurricane until we mentioned it. We walked to the gate, discussing the what-ifs; might we go illegal, where would they put us up, there would surely be a loss of power and it would be horrible to be in a hot hotel with no air conditioner.
When we reached the gate, we were inundated with nervous passengers asking if we were really going, how safe was it, and were we worried about flying into a hurricane? I got so tired of the questions, that when we began boarding, and more questions came, I played a few games, such as dumb, “I don’t have any information, you probably know more about the storm than I do”, to dumber, “What hurricane?”
I thought it was interesting that people were flying to an island about to be hit by a huge storm, and it was the flight they were concerned with. The worst part of their day was certainly going to be on the ground, not in the air.
The captain made an announcement before we left that calmed everyone’s fears; we would be just fine, arriving long before the storm was to reach Oahu, and the winds when we landed wouldn’t be much stronger than the ones we were leaving in San Francisco. It was a delight to the passengers, but a let down to me.
The captain was right. We landed to very anti-climactic Honolulu weather; calm, balmy, partly-cloudy and rather nice at 10PM. We took off just over an hour later, about 6 hours before the weather was supposed to turn ugly. We had a few bumps after take-off, and that was the extent of it. I was hoping to meet Iselle, but we beat her and left before being formally introduced.
There is a saying that warns of being careful of what one asks, as we were not free from excitement on this flight. Working in economy and hanging out in the aft galley during the flight home, I was made aware that there was a medical issue when the purser made an announcement asking if there was anyone on board with medical training. Nothing like that announcement to get your attention. It turned out to be minor; a woman with some tingling in her arms and shortness of breath. We administered oxygen and on board was a dentist, a nurse and an anesthesiologist to look after her. She was fine and after landing would walk into the terminal without the aid of a wheel chair.
It was a gorgeous morning in SF when our 757 touched down back home. The one good thing about Hawaii turns is that, with over 10 hours of flight time, I could now enjoy 36 hours free from duty. Yep, time for some well-deserved shut-eye. After all, Mother Airline would be sending me back out for more adventures once my rest was finished. Never a dull moment in the life among the clouds, and one of the reasons I love my job!
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Adventures in Flight: Jetset in 3…2…1

One minute I’m home on my couch enjoying what I thought might be a day off. Being on call with my job is a beast unlike any other. Waiting by the phone for a call from the crew desk to be off to a host of possible places: Sydney, Denver, San Diego, Orlando or sitting at the airport for 4 hours in the event that something goes awry and I’m needed, were all in the realm of possibilities. After 14 years, I still have sit on call every other month. I used to love it much more than I do now. Having a line, where I know what trips I have all month, is better for having control over your life. With a trip, I can trade for others or attempt to drop it for a day off. When on call, I only have a single day at a time that I can trade and there are so many rules; you must have at least 3 days in a row, can’t have more than 6, can’t create a new block in the month,…I’m sure there are more that I am forgetting!
So it was a day spent wasting it away on my couch watching Air Disasters on Netflix – not for the faint of heart, to be sure, especially before taking flight. But watching shows about what can go wrong seems to instill in me the knowledge that things will go right because of the lessons learned. It’s funny how I can do this, but wouldn’t want to watch Jaws before going swimming in the ocean!
Thoughts of a possible nap crossed my mind as the hours passed and the chances of a late trip grew greater…or I’d find out at 7PM what trip I’d get for tomorrow. Either way, a nap was sounding like a doable thing.
I was a call-in reserve for the month, which means each night at seven, I can find out what my trip is the following day. However, there are times we are not given a trip. The options here would be released for the following day, or converted to ready-reserve, which is what happened to me the previous day and was why I was sitting around wondering if the crew desk would end up calling me.
Then my phone rang – the ring tone familiar – that of one of my favorite songs by Stevie Nicks, perfect for a call that is to whisk me away to a far-off place…“You will fly like some little wing,” she sings, “straight back to the sun”. It was the crew desk calling with an assignment and I was soon to be jetting off.
Normally, the phone rings and I’ve got at least 4 hours before flight. This call was different. I was asked if I could be at SFO in 2 hours. I looked carefully at the time and considered that I wasn’t packed nor showered, but I was within my normal prep time. Yes! I don’t receive a lot of short call outs, but when we do, we only need to do our best to make it, and I knew I could.
The next minute I was getting ready for a trip to Honolulu; deadhead there in a coach seat, lay over for 14 hours, work one leg home…great trip! This job can have such a sense of urgency at times. “I’m needed in Hawaii!” Drop every thing and jet off.
Taking off from SFO

From wasting a day on the couch in front of the TV to sitting in the window seat on a jumbo jet watching the traffic on Highway 101 flow by as we taxied under a clear, blue sky to the start of the runway. It was such a gorgeous day, what was I doing at home on the couch? Oh, yeah. Waiting for a call from work. Had I not been ready so quickly or not lived as close to the airport, I might not be on my way to Oahu.
Seated next to me was the first officer who would be flying me home the next day. We talked briefly and then he lost himself in a movie while I played tunes and did a few crosswords. Four hours later, we flew over Pearl Harbor. I could see the white monument of the USS Arizona clearly. Further back in the harbor were naval ships; a carrier and a few destroyers. Beyond that were the mountains of Oahu and the Western shore of the island. We made a sweeping turn and lined up with the runway and soon our 767-400 was parked at the gate.
When we got to Waikiki Beach, it seemed that everyone was there…it was packed! I checked in and changed clothes, then it was time to jam in a short vacation; a couple of Mai Tais at the hotel pool bar, enjoy the sun set, a bite to eat, a walk on the beach and then time to head to my room. Not a bad day at work.
The following morning I would regroup with my crew in the hotel lobby to be on our way back to the airport. Once through security, we reached the gate and found out why we, along with the pilots, had all been flown to Oahu to work back. The inbound flight had diverted to Hawaii from Sydney due to pilot legalities; it was as far as they were allowed to fly. The passengers had all cleared customs in Oahu and had been waiting in the gate area for a few hours. This sounded like bad news for us, but they wound up being quite nice, just very tired; most would sleep the whole way.
I was assigned to work the aft galley, which was a task since we were boarded with a full-on breakfast service. It’s been a very long time since I’ve had to do a full-on meal service of any kind on a flight that was not international. The crew worked well together and we had a very good time. Before we knew it we were starting our descent into the Bay Area. We landed under the same beautiful skies as we had left the previous day.
I got home, repacked my bags for the next assignment where I would be off again, seeing the world, tending to the tired traveler and happy I love my job.
Diamondhead crater from Door 4