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Passenger of the Day: All in the Family

I’ve been very lucky in the arena of medical incidents in my career. The first one I had was within my first few months of flying. It’s one of those things you never forget, like your first kiss, your first speeding ticket or the first time you realized you hate fruit cake.

I was working on a 727 and we were taxiing for takeoff from Chicago. There was a commotion a few rows from the back of the plane; a man was having a seizure and the passengers around him began to go crazy. I heard someone yell for a spoon to put in his mouth, something you never want to do. If anything, too many people already have silver spoons, but never place anything in the mouth of someone in the throes of a fit.
He recovered quickly and was taken care of by medical professionals, who were able to enter the plane via the air stairs in the tail of the aircraft. What a wonderful feature to have, as it saved us from taxiing all the way back to the gate.
On another flight bound for Ontario, CA, we had to divert to Las Vegas for a woman who had the worst panic attack I’ve ever seen. We were only 90 minutes late to Ontario, and could have arrived sooner, except that we came in so fast, we had to wait for the brakes to cool down.
My favorite experience (if you can call it that) was on a flight where I was the purser and a man had fallen ill on our way to Washington, DC. I called for medical assistance and a doctor came forward, as well as a nurse. They tended to the patient and the flight attendants working in the back took over as I returned to first class and continued to communicate with the captain. The captain asked me if it was serious enough to divert. The doctor, upon my asking this question, suddenly went from saying this was serious and the guy needed medical help right away, to saying, no, I think he will be fine to get to DC. Obviously, this doc had an important engagement he didn’t want to miss. It was too late for a good tee time, so who knows…
Mostly, I encounter people who simply need a bit of oxygen. We ask for medical help, and I don’t think I’ve ever been on a flight where there was no one available. The key is to ask for anyone with medical training. If you ask for a ‘doctor on board’, you may miss someone who could be a vital help, as even a veterinarian has the basic skills to assist where no one else does.
The worst we get is the occasional vomit on the floor, which we must clean up. I had one so bad, I worked for half an hour with a beautiful plastic apron and mask on my face, sprinkling lemon scented powder all over the mess, scooping it up with a flimsy scooper and finally placing down a large blanket to cover the mess.
Keeping my skills current, I was recently on a flight home from Lima, Peru. I was working the aft galley and a woman looking a bit pale entered. She didn’t speak English, but we had 2 language qualified flight attendants in the galley. She was not feeling well and clutched the walls. She went down and someone shouted for oxygen, which I obtained. I knelt down, turned it on and began to place the mask on her. She shooed it away and rolled to her side. Someone said she was going to be ill and asked for a bag. I moved back, praying it wasn’t going to be of the projectile variety.
She recovered and I got the oxygen on her and a call went out for medical assistance. Shortly, we had an RN and a doctor, who seemed very comfortable taking her pulse, comforting her, moving her purse out of the way. I had taken gloves from the AED to hand to him and thought it very odd that he refused them. No one refuses gloves when dealing with bodily fluids! Turns out, the doctor was the woman’s husband. He spoke to the language flight attendants and mentioned that she was also a doctor.
Soon, another woman, young, attractive, straight black hair, was hovering nearby, offering her medical assistance as well. I told her that with the doctor and the RN, I felt we had it covered. But this was not just another soul offering medical assistance, it was the couple’s daughter. It was then that I noticed the doctors very nice gold watch and the patient’s leather Gucci purse. I wanted to ask if the daughter was single! Was everyone in their family in the medical field?
In the end, our patient recovered quickly, which was a good thing, as the bag that was delivered for her to be sick in was clear and I could see that, like me, she had the chicken for dinner. The sooner we got that out of the way, the better we’d all be! She soon was on her feet headed back to her seat. Another happy passenger taken care of by a team of well-trained flight attendants who were happy to assist and to do what we do best…take care of passengers.
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Passenger of the Day: The Lovers

International pre-departure can be as fun as your 5th fruit cake of the holiday season- trying to maneuver the aisles during the busy boarding period to ask first class passengers for drink orders, taking and hanging coats, passing out amenity kits and menus and answering questions. All that and while not getting paid; the money starts flowing when the brakes of the plane are released, not when we start sweating for the needs of first class passengers, the neediest of whom seem to be upgrades from economy.
I approached the couple in 4K and L during the boarding process. She was attractive with dark features, straight black hair pulled back, a striped blouse under a black sweater and a cheery disposition. He was equally handsome with a full beard and wore a tee shirt and gray sweatpants. Very classy for first class, and quite comfortable, which apparently wins the contest. He was more into the young woman seated next to him than anything else.
Ignoring their attire, I smiled and asked if I could bring them anything to drink. My tray was already full of sparkling wine, orange juice and water; should they ask for these popular selections, it would save me a trip back up the aisle full of people headed to coach. Swimming up stream with a tray of drinks always brings the fear of bathing someone in a concoction of sparkling wine, orange juice and water. My poor heart.
He smiled back and said no, thanks. I looked to the young woman, who turned to the man attached to her right hand, and whispered to him. He looked into her eyes and then looked back to me to say that they would indeed like some sparkling wine. I smiled again and placed their drinks down, moving to the next row of seats.
Several passengers seemed very excited about their travel. Santiago, Chile was our destination, a new route for Mother Airline. Actually, we had the route many years ago. Santiago was always the city that got away from me. After the events of 9-11, I was furloughed, but spent time away from work taking advantage of my flight benefits. I made one big trip a month and had gone to such places as Hong Kong, Milan, Brussels and Taiwan. Santiago was the next destination on my list when Mother Airline called me back to work, so I didn’t get to make the trip; and then we stopped flying there. Since starting again, a lot of passengers are taking advantage of the renewed route.

During the initial beverage service, I asked to take the lover’s drink order. He declined my offer. Again, the young woman, now with her feet on the seat and her knees up to her chest, turned to whisper to him. She looked back to me like she had won a prize and he spoke up that they would like another glass of sparkling wine. “Oh,” she added, “and a glass of water for both of us.” “So, she does speak,” said my inner voice.
This is how it went every time I offered anything to them. He would say no, like a polite guest in a stranger’s home, too timid to actually take up any offers of hospitality. She would lean into him, whisper in his ear, change his mind and he would then accept the offer. She seemed to have the power over him to accept any of my offers. Would you like dessert? Would you like a cheese plate and port wine? Would you like to smell this rotten fruit? Would you like to chew on this piece of glass. Would you like a fruit cake?
The Lover’s, as we all started calling them, continued to hold hands and look longingly into each others eyes. They sighed and laughed. They did everything the same; like twins. What he ordered, she ordered. What he watched, she watched. She would get up to use the lav, then he would. It was the purser who pointed out that sweatpants on a man in love don’t do enough to hide his passion.
We looked on in awe, the three of us working in first class, all agreeing that we wished we had someone to steal kisses from on a vacation flight to a foreign country. The others from the back all came up to steal a peek at our lovers- giggling, smiling and in a world that only they occupied at 37,000 feet.
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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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View to a Thrill: Made in America

Houston Courthouse 

The first piece of furniture I ever bought was a queen-sized bed. I’d moved off campus into an apartment and needed a bed. If you lived in Houston in the 90’s, you know there was one place to shop for a mattress – “Mattress Mack’s” Gallery Furniture. He did his own commercials, jumping up with a wad of cash and a goofy smile exclaiming, “We’ll save you…MONEY!” To this day when I see the exit sign off the interstate, I remember him also saying, “I-45 North, between Tidwell and Parker.” Effective advertising.

With mixed emotions, I recently performed my civic responsibility by serving Jury Duty. Driving to the courthouse downtown, I passed Parker and remembered, “I-45 North between Tidwell and Parker.” Twenty-seven years after buying my bed, he’s still there. So, on the way home, after not being used, (it would have been a boring DUI case, anyway; I’m sure the guy was guilty) I stopped in.
What used to be a small, somewhat dumpy metal building with furniture outside under a large shade structure, is now one of the largest furniture stores in the country; quite grandiose, with large statues, water fountains with live tropical birds, a huge rotunda and even a display of live monkeys. Being Houston royalty, as it were, it wasn’t too surprising to see several areas devoted to his ego, with plaques and photos and displays of Jim McIngvale alongside other Houston royalty, presidents, and sports legends.
What got me most were the numerous US flags and the continuously running infomercial on the many TV screens throughout the show room with an annoyingly twangy country song going on about god and country, images of Old Glory waving, of a Marine and his bride on the steps of a church, of families and children eating hot dogs, and there was a much older, but still sort of goofy looking, Mattress Mack declaring how his furniture store now leans toward items made in America. Red, white and blue. God. American proud. Sappy music sung by a nasally challenged man. ‘Murca!’ (the term a certain inept president recently made famous).
Chilean friends being silly

Earlier this year, I had my first trip to Santiago, Chile. I’d never been to South America until transferring to our Houston base, and it’s been great getting to know the culture of our neighbors to the south. Upon meeting some friends of a friend, I was asked how I liked Santiago. I told them how much I loved the huge Andes Mountains and hadn’t expected the city to be so much like America, with Denny’s, P.F. Chang’s, Fuddruckers, and all the standard fast food restaurants, of course. They looked at me like I had two heads, “Well,” they said, “you ARE in America.” South America.

Of course, I was.
I’d fallen into that trap that so many from the US fall into; thinking America is all there is. People in South America see themselves as American’s too. Made in America, technically, means it could be
made in Canada, or Chile, or Argentina. We seem to forget that we are not the only Americans.
One of Mack’s monkeys

Ever since my new friends in Chile reminded me that we are all American’s, I’ve tried to be more aware of how I use “American”. It’s impressive how people can stand so tall and proud for their homeland. I wish as Earthlings, we could stand a little more in unison of the fact that we are all on this rock together and try to get along a bit more comfortably.

I’m fortunate to have the kind of job that really opens one’s eyes to new concepts, as well as the chance to explore new cultures. I once heard that after being a flight attendant for a while, you learn enough to earn a college degree, and this situation reminded me of that. I love seeking knowledge and exploring new worlds and learning new insights. The world to me has gotten so much smaller with this job. And so much better understood. I wish more ‘Murcan’s could do the same.
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Passenger of the Day: The Rotarian

Often, when I’m tired, I get a bit loopy. I’d been up before 6:00am for 4 days in a row and this was a long day, starting in Houston, flying to Phoenix for a 2-hour sit, then to Denver for nearly 3 hours before flying back to Houston; not my favorite kind of day. Three legs in a day is rough with 3 boardings (for which we are not paid), 3 galleys to set up on 3 different planes, long sits between flights (for which we are not paid), and 3 times taxiing out for takeoff on the jump seat trying not to nod off. It was a long 13 hour day for which I was only paid for 7. It’s a damned good thing I love my job!

One of the ways I combat such a day as this is to allow myself the chance to be a bit silly. I flirt a little with the ladies when doing the exit row verifications by asking if they are over 15, and asking the men if they are intoxicated…yet. When asking if they are willing and able to assist with the emergency exits I end by asking that they not ‘practice’, which always gets a few chuckles. I chat up the children, asking if they are out of school, where they are traveling to, and if they’ve flown before. I enjoy conversing with passengers, making them feel welcome and comfortable and trying be humorous when I can.

At one point in the day, and I don’t remember which flight this was, because they all tend to blend together, I met Bob. He was somewhere in his 60’s with thinning hair and a mustache and had come to the back of the plane to use the lavatory. What I noticed about Bob was his bright shirt, on which were elephants, birds, zebras, gazelles, and lions and a somewhat tropical design. It was much like a Hawaiian shirt, but for the African animals.
The lavs were occupied, so while he stood there I complimented his shirt. He told me that he had at one time lived in Africa. Intrigued, I asked where in Africa, and he tried to explain the area west of Victoria Lake and he then got very nostalgic over how beautiful it was there. I admitted that I would absolutely love to see it.
Then I noticed something else about his shirt; something not entirely noticeable from a distance. Within the pattern were also rotary symbols from the Rotary Club. He was impressed when I asked about this, and eagerly acknowledged that he was a member. This opened up an opportunity for me to share my Rotary Club experience.
When I was in high school, I was involved in a youth leadership organization which allowed me the opportunity to speak to the Dallas Rotary Club members several times. I had achieved a type of acclaim to where I was soon being invited to events to meet high rollers in industry and politics at various social and networking events. I once had breakfast with the female CEO of the Chesebrough-Ponds Manufacturing Company, who would later donate money to our organization. I shared appetizers with Governor Ann Richards. I met bank presidents, city mayors, actors, athletes, car dealership owners and members of congress, often speaking in front of large groups of people thinking very little of it.

Being congratulated by a delegate after winning office in 1985
I found it somewhat natural to be in front of these people talking about myself and my involvement in student politics. Not only was I on the student council of America’s third largest high school, but I was an elected officer to a state-wide leadership role in HERO- Home Economics Related Occupations (in those days, I wanted to be a chef).
It was through these talks and interactions that I lost any fear of public speaking and now allows me to make announcements on the plane standing proudly in the aisle and facing the passengers instead of hiding behind the bulkhead, as many flight attendants do. Years later, when I was the general manager of a multi-million dollar business, I found it easy to speak at various business council events in my town, networking with other leaders and promoting my business.
But I’ve never forgotten my breakfast meetings with the members of the Dallas Rotary Club, held in a fancy restaurant on the grounds of the Texas State Fair. Their interest in me and numerous invitations to come speak at their breakfasts opened many doors.
I thanked Bob for his involvement with the Rotary Club, which had been so generous to me. He looked a little surprised at this, so I continued, “The Rotary Club gave me 2 college scholarships, and I’ve never forgotten what an honor that was.”

Bob smiled and said, “You should become a member. It’s a great way to serve the community.” He told me how it’s no longer reserved for business leaders. Their membership started to shrink so they opened their ranks to just about anyone wanting to join. He said they even allow women now, after apparently losing a court case.
I assured Bob that I’d look into it and then a woman emerged from the lavatory. He started to enter and I told him he was going into the woman’s lav. He did the usual shocked body-jerk when you tell someone this, and then I laughed, “I’m kidding Bob!”
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View to a Thrill: Culinary Delights

One thing I learned early on in this career is that if you are going to a new destination, one of the best resources for dining and shopping information are the flight attendants on your flight. They’ve always been a wealth of information on where to find great deals, which restaurants will provide memorable meals and what are some of the grocery must-haves that should be taken back home. They know the bargains and how to get around.
Street pancake in Shanghai

When I was based in San Francisco, and traveling to China often, I learned about dining on the streets for breakfast, breaking my habit of eating at the costly hotel buffet. As deluxe as the buffet was, there was nothing like the dim sum, dumplings and street pancakes to be found for just a couple of dollars.

In Australia, I was taken to great pubs, not only for refreshing beer, but excellent pizza, while learning the history of drunken men being Shanghaied to work on boats to China.
My London layover is where I obtained my lust for clotted cream. The Belgian waffles in Brussels were heavenly. The best hot chocolate was near Notre Dame in Paris.
And it’s not just in foreign lands where I learn of great foods. I discovered the Cuban sandwich on a Miami layover (served with fries that had been dusted in Parmesan cheese, a trick I now use to impress guests at home). I have a very hard time with my weight, as I love eating and when visiting a region with great food – and what region doesn’t have great food?- I must indulge. Burnt ends BBQ sandwich in Kansas City, crab cakes in Maryland, cheese steaks in Philly, churros in Mexico City, butter in Paris, steak in Argentina, Indian food in London…the list goes on.

Argentinean steak

I love checking out local grocery stores when I travel to another country; there’s nothing like seeing the fresh food in Asia, which often includes large frogs! When in Sao Paulo, a flight attendant took me under her wing to show me the great coffee and then a product that really held my interest: liquid garlic. I don’t cook enough at home, but I just had to buy some for Mom, who got it for Christmas. She loved it, so I brought some back for my aunt, who cooks all the time.
Choco milk in a bag

My most recent hot discovery, and I’m most proud for having found it on my own, was in a grocery store in Lima, Peru. I marveled at how they sold milk in plastic bags; thick plastic bags that one must cut open with scissors. They had chocolate milk as well, and it was only a dollar for a bag with about a quart. I brought a bag home to find it was only about the best chocolate milk I’ve ever had. It goes really well with Besos de Moza, chocolate kisses filled with something akin to marshmallow, but softer. It’s quite decadent and I can’t stop buying it.

As the saying goes, “When in Rome…” and I don’t mind if I do. Please pass the butter, I can diet when I’m dead!

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Adventures in Flight: The Enabler

FA Penguin, at your service

This is how it usually happens; I ask a first class passenger what they would like to drink. They ask what wines we have and after listing them, they find they don’t like what we have to offer and instead order a diet coke. I ask, “We went from wine to ordering a diet coke?”

Or the time I asked the young woman on her first trip to Chile along with her husband for her drink order. She asked for orange juice. I comment, “Just orange juice?… nothing more exciting, like a mimosa or a screw driver?”
Or the young college guy on my flight to Buenos Aires, who looked like he wanted to ask me a question as I picked up his dinner tray, from which he’d eaten every morsel. After pressing him, he said he would love a second meal if that was possible. I told him it was quite possible, as we had a few left. Later, during the landing service, I asked if he’d again like a second meal. He smiled wide and nodded, as if I’d offered the keys to Shangri La. It wasn’t so much his nice demeanor and smile, all though, that’s the quickest way to a flight attendant’s heart. I’m an enabler!
Life is short and one has to live it to the fullest before it throws you under the bus. Or in my case, under the plane (although, these days, it’s harder to tell the difference between the two judging from those who travel).

I’ve been an enabler for many years, and it’s only intensified after my 2 close calls with death. If there’s something you want to do, something you want to try, something you want to experience, I say, get out there and do, try or experience while you still can! You’re never promised tomorrow.

One of the things I enjoy about being a flight attendant is being part of people’s life adventure. I deliver passengers to weddings, to vacations, to job interviews and even funerals. Travel is such a rich experience. Some of us get to do it all the time. Others, only once in a while. I strive to do my best at making sure people who need it, can have a memorable experience while on board the aircraft.
Some of the girls going to PVR

Just a few days ago, I was flying to Puerto Vallarta. On board were 10 attractive young ladies, all wearing identical tee shirts, all quite vibrant and happy. One asked if she could buy all the ladies in the group a drink; all 10 of them. I said, certainly! What’s the occasion? They were all friends of passenger18A, who was about to get married, but not before this bachelorette party let them loose on the Mexican beach resort. I asked what the men were doing. They were all taking a cruise! “You guys know how to do things right!” I told them.

The rock star life in Lima

Currently, I’m writing this from Lima, Peru, where I dined on Peruvian dishes for both lunch and dinner in the hotel executive lounge. Last night, after arriving to our swank hotel, I enjoyed a few Pisco sours at the casino bar with some of my crew. I am enjoying the view over the Pacific ocean from my 15th floor room. I live like a rock star! I could never afford such a lifestyle without this job; staying in deluxe hotels all around the world, meeting fun people, working with great crews and trying local dishes and drinks. I truly am wealthy for my life, my friends and my family. 

I don’t care about your diet, I’ll offer you dessert. I don’t care about your beliefs, I’ll tempt you with sin. I don’t care about your conservative ways, I’m going to keep having fun, and go sliding into my grave sideways, shouting for joy! I just want you to accompany me. Not in the grave part, but in having fun getting there!
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Passenger of the Day: New Father

Seven in the morning is a little earlier than I like to start my day. I’m not much of an early person so, I’m not all that talkative at that hour. Even the nicest person can approach me to chat and I tend to tune them out and zone in on my own little cocoon. So when the young man came up behind us at the gate and started to chat, I let my flying partner take over and I turned my attention to the gate door, willing it to open with some sort of mind powers I wished I possessed. I could then just get up and walk onto the plane and await the boarding time in peace and quiet before I start pretending to be nice for the day.
When the boarding did start, the first man down the aisle was a large one and I knew right away he’d need a seat belt extension to get properly buckled up. He was very friendly and started chatting with me. He was on his way to North Carolina for vacation, and the way he spoke about it made it sound as if maybe he hadn’t had vacation in quite some time. I was too tired to think to ask and just kept up the friendly demeanor, which helped bring me into more of a humane attitude.
The second man to board was a very old man who was brought down the aisle in an aisle chair. He had a very difficult time standing up to transfer into his seat. For some reason, his assigned seat was at the window. Knowing the flight had about 30 open seats, I suggested to the assistants that we just let him take the aisle and if it were anyone’s seat, we’d just relocate them to make it easier on everyone. I would be in the aisle during the boarding process and would keep an eye on him.
After I got the aisle chair passenger settled in and went over a few safety details with him, I looked up and saw the young man who had attempted to converse with a very tired, somewhat grumpy flight attendant (me) a few minutes prior. He smiled wide at me and seemed to admire my uniform as I rose, taking in my stripes and tie. I smiled back and said, “Oh, it’s you, again, good morning.” His name was Patrick and he is the passenger of the day.
I moved back to allow him to access his seat; 23A. Rather than go right into his seat, he stood and started up a conversation. He was on his way to Kuwait to rejoin his company. He had been allowed home to be present for the birth of his daughter. He was thin and tall with blue eyes and sandy blond hair, cut short- military style. He was easy on the eyes, in military shape and very talkative. What impressed me was his outward personality, his manners and the fact that he was nicely dressed. Obviously, he was much more of a morning person than I, but his engagement energized me, so I continued to get to know him.
He looked so young, so I asked his age and was sort of shocked when he said 23. I replied that I wouldn’t have guessed older than 19. He smiled bashfully and admitted that his baby face gets him carded a lot. He continued; his wife lost her mother 5 days before the birth of their daughter. His lieutenant had found out and decided not to tell Patrick. But when the base commander caught wind, he not only informed Patrick, but sent him home so his wife wouldn’t have to deal with the birth while grieving for her mother- and the week before Mother’s Day, no less.
Patrick was very interested in talking to me about flying and my job. He mentioned that he thought it would be fun to be an air marshal. I thought it over for a second and gave him my opinion: air marshals are usually quite dry. They blend in well with passengers, keep quiet, watch a lot of movies and play a lot of games. They don’t chat people up much, because they don’t tell people much about themselves, such as why they are flying, or what they do for a living. They can’t nap and they certainly can’t occupy the time of the flight crew. With his demeanor, I told him he’d make a much better flight attendant! The rest of the crew agreed.
He professed that he thought that would be great, and that on a previous flight he had earned a pair of wings when assisting the flight crew by helping pick up trash from passengers. I told him to give it thought, he had 5 months left on his current tour, and hoped to re-enlist to keep up the great military benefits.
Later, in flight, he brought out his lap top and started showing photos of his girl. He started showing the purser, and then I came up and took a look. Next thing I know, passengers all around were asking to see and he was holding it up high for the large man with the seat belt extension to see. It was the sweetest little baby girl with a ribbon and bow on her head. The mother looked all of 18, but he said she was 23, as well.
Patrick was a sweet young man with a bright future. He was educated well enough to have a very enlightened conversation with many people. He helped numerous passenger place bags in the overhead bins and wasn’t the least bit shy. When the purser made his landing announcements, he finished by announcing the birth of Patrick’s girl and that he was returning to Kuwait to serve his country, something that really meant a lot to him, as evidenced by his comment, “No, I need to get back to my unit,” when I said that it was a shame he couldn’t stay longer with his wife.
It’s nice to see such patriotism and dedication, such manners and poise, from a young man such as Patrick. He made an impression on the people around him, and the crew. We landed at Dulles Airport in DC where he had a 7 hour sit before his next flight. We shook hands and I thanked him before he disappeared. The crew went to our next flight and boarded the plane. Even though we didn’t need his help to collect trash, we all agreed…we missed Patrick!
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Passenger of the Day: The Aisle is an Ocean

One of the questions a flight attendant hears often is, “We didn’t get seated together, can you help us move people so we can sit together?” The short answer is, no, we can’t. Mother Airline doesn’t allow flight attendants to re-seat passengers. I’m not sure if it may be a union thing; we also aren’t allowed to lift passenger bags into over head bins and are not covered by workers compensation if injured doing so. So the quick answer we normally give is that they are welcome to ask passengers to move and usually they are accommodating. (And as far as putting the bag in the overhead bin…if you can’t lift it we can’t lift it. I’d be glad to check it for free!)

Every time I’m asked to help couples sit together, I’m reminded of a time my parents came to visit. This was back when one could meet the arriving party at the gate. I noticed Mom filing out of the jet way before Dad. When I felt sorry for them not sitting together, Mom said, “I love not sitting next to him. He yammers on and on the whole flight and I don’t get a moment’s peace. It’s nice that he can bother someone else for 3 hours!”
Lady Bossie boarded the 767 with dual aisles and immediately went into her hissy fit. “My husband and I were originally seated together, but now we have been re-seated and we’re across the aisle from each other. Can you move the passenger in his seat so he can sit next to me?
Really? Across the aisle might be a good thing for your husband, who might like the break!

The inside voice said, “Um, nope. You can ask the man in the window seat just like all the other passengers with this issue. You’re a big girl. You can do it!”
The man refused to move when asked; most likely because of the pushy manner in which she did so. The woman was fuming at the possibility of having to spend the next 6 hours on a flight with an aisle separating her from the poor man. And he seemed as if he couldn’t care any less. He was quiet, calm, and more into his portable electronic device than the commotion she was causing during the entire boarding process. Bossie, came marching back up to the boarding door to protest.
Originally, they were seated together. But upon finding out that their seats were inoperative, they were moved to seats that worked, and placed in 5B and 5D (in first class, there is no C). It turned out that their seats had been repaired before boarding, but in the mean time, they were given to other passengers. She was referred to the purser, who referred her to the customer service agent. She was told, if the passenger refused to move, they couldn’t do anything about it.
She next went to the captain, who looked as if he was ready to handle it his way: we can find you seats on another flight! She learned quickly that one should never bother the pilots when they are busy with their take-off check lists with something as minor as seat placement.
In the end, her loud protests were heard by other passengers, who in the interest of a peaceful flight and an on-time departure, moved, so that she could sit next to her precious husband. In their new seats at 3J and K, they proceeded to spend the next 6 hours of flight…glued to their TV screens watching 2 different movies with noise-reduction head sets on their ears. All that fuss to sit next to hubby just so she could ignore him the whole flight!
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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.