homesick

Here I sit half way around the world, and it hits me like a ton of bricks...I am homesick.

I haven't been home since the 11th of July and even though I got to see Todd in McCall, it was such a journey there and back a vacation wouldn't be deemed the title. My next time off is the 19th and I am so ready mentally to be home. To get appointments made, sleep in my new bed, see my mom, and just be.

My feelings are hurt by someone I don't even know. We made a plan to meet up tonight and go out in Tel Aviv. A friend of mine is working the flight and is very sweet. Even though I had only an hour sleep I was keen on meeting up and having fun. We don't fly out until tomorrow night so one night of caution to the wind I could live with. I made it to his room for a cocktail and then to head out...it became a two hour, drag the feet, drama ordeal. I finally told them I was going to get something to eat to escape the Queen who was rude to me off and on for no reason and the oogling pilot whom I have already had a run in previously.

I came back to my room relieved not to be out with them but sad at the same time. I walked away from drama and now I am here alone.

Not sure if it is the lack of sleep or the current lack of stability but I feel blah. And the thing is, I shouldn't...it was a great trip over. Yes, you read correctly... I picked up and held onto a TLV. Blondie asked if I not only wanted to trade her for first class aisle but also if I wanted her 2nd break. DONE! It made the trip so nice and easy.

Here's hoping for a day at the beach tomorrow after a work out, some nice photos, a little grocery shopping and a much better feeling about being so far away.

week funk

A week ago I was awake early in my Paris hotel on the search for coffee and a pan au chocolate. Today I sit in the passenger seat of a Mini Cooper with the windows down and the Idaho wind whipping through my hair.

The past week hasn’t been my best ever; I have been in a funk. I could blame it on pms but I don’t think it last this long, nor am I usually affected by it. The six-day trip took it out of me and for the next few days all I did was sleep. I am talking sleeping in until three and four in the afternoon. I spent my only day off sleeping and then walking around downtown NYC looking for sheets. The day I got up at 4, it was by the sound of the alarm I set in order to pick up a trip.
I chose based on position and I needed the front galley. I wasn’t in any mood for aisles, neither back nor front. I choose Edinburgh because I love the city and hadn’t been in forever. I am sure it was partially my mood but I wasn’t too keen on any of the crew including the fat, nerdy pilots. My aisle girl…man she was a bitch and a half. Absolutely no communication and I finally told her I wasn’t good at reading minds. That pretty much sealed the deal on us talking to each other for the remainder of the trip.

I slept a bunch in EDI and came home to sweltering heat. My roommate and I thought it would be a brilliant idea to go and take a nap in Central Park and sweat off our plane bloat. I also got some color out of the deal. I went to be that evening not knowing my schedule for the next day and figuring they would roll my day off and send me international.

Like a good international flight attendant I stayed up until 0400 engrossed in a book. I woke up paranoid as I always do on call days to check my schedule at 0900. Mother F’ers put me on the 2 day IAH. This affected not only my whole months next schedule and my weekend but also the plans to meet up in McCall.
I drug myself up and out to run my errands in 102-degree weather before heading off to the airport rather early. The trip was fine, great crew was able to work out and relax a bit. The only down side was the lack of hours, the previous schedule shift and the fact the damn plane didn’t land until 1800.

While commuting to the West Coast isn’t too bad, it takes a bunch of planning and the ability to leave prior to 1800. Planning this 4-leg journey to meet the BF at the parents’ house in the middle of beautiful BFE was not fun to plan. I booked a flight to ORD leaving at 1800 hoping a miracle would be on my side. They had a connection to BOI that night so if all worked out….

Well, we’ve met right? The damn plane lands late and I miss my ORD flight. There is another at 1830 but I don’t know if it is full and Lauren did a quick search and found a DEN flight that had seats. I have no idea what she was looking at because my information said it was overbooked…by a lot. Never the less, I packed my 50lbs worth of crap over the A terminal by bus and then another bus. I head to the gate hopeful and within 10 minutes I am on in my own exit row. I didn’t have time to find out what flights left to BOI after my arrival, I knew there were lots of carriers so this was my best hub to end up at. Well, I land at 2115 and not only is there no flights leaving, the whole damn airport is shut down. The guy I chatted with told me they were even open a little late this evening due to bad weather. WTF? I wandered around for an hour or so trying to decide if I was going to stay the 11 hours in between flights in the terminal or if I would pony up the cash for a hotel. The Crown Plaza had a price I could live with (Todd is paying half since he had half custody of my sanity) and went for a shower and 6 hours of sleep.
Southwest was kind enough to give me a ride to old spud country….sorry for interruption just got pulled behind a post office to have sex; hopefully that isn’t a federal crime.

Anyway we are about 9 miles out from beautiful McCall and all seems better now that we have chatted and the sex helps as well. Looking forward to relaxing by the lake and having some home cooked meals and gin and tonics on the deck.

six long days

My plans to go to Chicago fell through so I had a choice, sit at home and babysit the kid or try and go back to work. I choose the later. On Tuesday I boarded the early flight back to base with my seat assignment in hand, I rang scheduling to pick up a trip. They have special days now that you can pick up on your day off if they need extra help. Luckily, this was one of those days. I had my choice of good trips, Stockholm, Geneva, etc except they checked in pretty early. My flight was scheduled to arrive at 1540 and god forbid something happened and I didn’t make it in time, I would then be in trouble. This gut instinct made me pick up a trip with a 2005 check-in. This trip was a six-day that meant I didn’t have to make it back to the NYC apartment for another week. The instinct I felt was correct as we had a mechanical delay in PDX.

The trip I picked up was new to our schedules. Since the merger is in its beginning stages some genius decided to start giving some of our trip to the other carrier (good trips mind you) and giving us one in return. So the trip goes like this: home base to Paris (28 hours) – Paris to Washington DC (24 hours) – DC to Paris (24 hours) – Paris to home.

Sounds like a great trip right? Depends on the crew.

The plane in question is a 757, which means there are 3 pilots and 6 flight attendants.

Here is a run down:

A nice guy, dry humor who looks like the guy from USA “Up all night” (the name is escaping me)

French girl, screams French in every way but not as in your face about it. She is nice, she is married to a doctor, drives a Lexus…we know all about her life…

Other speaker is a West African who used to play professional soccer and talks to me a lot about the power of a woman. He is my favorite on the trip.

The lady I have to work with directly: I knew it was going to be interesting when she told all of us that she fell down recently and hit her head. And that is a summary of how she acts. We have gotten into a couple tiffs about how to bang out the service and she thinks I am a sounding board for random thoughts. Even when I am reading the paper or my book…or typing this.

The purser…strange…He is who I have to sit in the jump seat with. He is Australian; his name is John yet he goes by some French word for fortune. He is never consistent on how he wants the service done, so we are guessing each time. Him and the back galley seem very displeased with each other and of course I am in the middle of it. He is the butt of everyone’s jokes and he just doesn’t seem to get it…or anything for that matter.

As far as the trip is concerned, it has been a great one. Our leg found me in a great mood, even though I was working in the back. We landed in Paris and made our way to a new hotel in the financial district. It was nice to see another side of the city, a non-touristy side. I went to the supermarket and purchased salads, yogurt and peppers for my meals. The extra four hours made the layover feel like forever but it was Bastille Day so extra time there was wonderful.
The next flight was into DC and let me tell you, the change in passengers was noticeable from the start. They are nasty…they have an expectation of bad service so they have their guard up. I want to scream at them that we like our job and we will be nice if you give us a chance. After the hellacious boarding I managed to smooze most the people, the back people were much better than the front. Same chaos and guessing game with the crew.

My layover in our nations capital was very nice indeed. Our hotel is right in Georgetown and if you told me I had to move there tomorrow, I would be packed and ready to go. Frenchy along with the pilots and I went out to a nice dinner after we arrived and the captain graciously purchased our meals. If I had known that I would have ordered more than a salad! : ) A nice rest followed. The next day I slept in, worked out, had lunch in DuPont Circle, went to Capital Building, had a delicious cupcake and then a nap.

This was harder flight to wrap your head around since it was day 3 going on 4 and we were headed back over the pond at a very late hour. So far, four hours into this flight and I am doing ok tired-wise. I did have to yell at a bunch of people at boarding about the exit row and how they can’t sit there if they didn’t pay for it. Yadda, yadda. I will say this… I miss our passengers.

Tomorrow in Paris we are back to the hotel in the middle of everything. There are sales going on in Paris for the month of July…they have such great things there, I might be tempted to go have a look see. A dress in lieu of eating next week? Very tempting! : ) as not eating will aid in the fabulousness of the dress!
Hoping for a balanced layover of sleep, good food, great sales/finds, weather, and getting some work done. That’s not too much to ask is it?

sheets

About a week a go, I received a text from the BF indicating he had pulled the trigger and purchased a new bed for us. It had been something we had been talking about for a while now. The first thought and want was European twin beds. These are impossible to find in the US. We then moved to the idea of a temper-pedic as I started having back problems with the queen that was our current cocoon.

I was both shocked and proud of his incentive and action. It took a conversation to realize that he took the job very seriously and also ordered a bed frame and the sheets.

Let me pause for a moment and let you know what I started dating... A man who wore almost all Eddie Bauer. Not because he particularly liked the style or cared but because it was long enough for his frame.
I have done a lot of work in the education of style and choices of clothes that look great and fashionable.

He is also a boy. A boy who could have been sold the Brooklyn Bridge if it was the store. I am inheritantly cheap but stylish at the same time. If it were I wheeling and dealing at the showroom, I would have argued that they needed to give me everything for free in addition to the mattress.

I was not present at this exchange; therefore I had to intervene late. I asked what the bed frame looked like and then I asked the question about the color of sheets... champagne. Uhm, no. I don't like old person sheets. I love sheets in bright, fun colors or great patterns. I take pride in my bed and anyone close will tell you, it takes months prior to me making a change.

When I arrived home we decided to wait for the delivery of the mattress and then we could take back the sheets if I hated them. I did. So we head to the store and Todd takes the reigns explaining that he jumped the gun and I wasn't pleased with the color. Fair enough, I will look like the bitch, here. I am the one who has to sleep on these things for the next five years.

The sales woman asked why I didn't like them. I replied, they look like a 60 year old picked them. Her look back at me indicated these were the same sheets she had on her bed. She asked if I would like to see any more colors, which I said yes. The real answer was no as we were not going to spend a fortune for sheets. As we made our way over to the small, bland selection, she asked me if any of them suited a 40 year old. She about got slapped.

Since we were close, we ran over to a couple shops and found some sheets but not ones I loved. We proceeded back downtown for lunch where I popped into Pottery Barn and William Sonoma. Nothing. Back to run a couple more errands and we stopped at West Elm. They had sheets we loved (as noted earlier online). They didn't carry Cal Kings in the store.

We then went back home and grabbed the car to go to Z Gallerie and then Crate and Barrel. Last resort was BB&B for which we had just received a coupon. The selection was disappointing. There were only a few colors to select from. I knew I was pushing my limit about three stores ago. I almost asked if we could go back to Ross but I knew that it would mean our break up. I conceded and bought dark gray sheets.

I treated the very patient birthday boy to a beer as a thank you.

Our new bed now sits on the ground with gray sheets awaiting a woman's touch.

days of domestic

I set myself up with blocks of 3 or 6 days so I can somewhat know what will happen scheduling wise. On my return to work this month, I was good for nine days (which is allowed at the months beginning). Ideally I would work three trips and catch the flight home on Thursday night.

Obviously this isn’t the case…

On my first day back, I was assigned airport alert. So far I had really good luck with getting not only a trip but a great trips. No such luck this time. What is did was left me with two days in scheduling’s hands at the end. So after my glamour of Paris and Madrid, I was assigned a domestic two day trip.
The check in wasn’t until 2000, which this late sleeper likes, and the first leg was a dead head to Vegas. It wasn’t too shabby as the crew was nice and gave me water and a first class seat. Luckily I was able to sleep for a couple of hours. After the five and a half hour flight, I gather my belongings and looked for coffee. There was none to be found in the immediate area so I walked the next-door gate and bored the flight I was sent to work. The local time now is midnight, three a.m. to me. It was a red eye back to Houston.

They assigned me first class galley and as usual, I had not a clue where anything was, didn’t know that I was supposed to stand for the demo. But it was plenty of time to figure it out as I only served four drinks the whole flight and then read my book.

Had eleven hours in the airport hotel before I worked the next flight back to base. Again, I was first class galley but this time had an aisle guy. I was trying to convince him to do a nice international like service but he was having none of it.

The huge difference between domestic an international is the pride we take in our service, our appearance and our hard work ethic. I was informed that the domestic flight attendants don’t get off their jump seats to work until the seatbelt sign goes off. This is long after international people; we jump up as soon as the double ding.

Our service is consistent, thoughtful and lengthy. We used pick up pans for rubbish not trash bags. In first class a silver tray is attached to your hand. The differences could go on and on. It made me grateful to be in my base and proud to be a hard worker. It was honestly hard to try to go with the domestic flow and not work hard. It was a nice break and even though I exchanged my Thursday night for a nights sleep in the crew room, it is nice to be on my way home and not exhausted from time changes and working my butt off!

mulligan please

I came in from Paris on Saturday and was released to a 24 hour break. By the time I made it home, the clock was down to 22 hours. I decided to take a look at all the trips for the following day, there were loads. Everyone calls out sick for the 4th of July and even though this would be my first one of the USA, I was excited at the choices. At my fingertips was Stockholm, Paris, Brussels, Geneva, Amsterdam, Madrid and all the usual UK stuff.

After a quick debate, I clicked on Madrid; I had never been prior. The flight was good, I worked in the front with a class mate and even though we had a large ground delay and majority of the passengers acted like upgrades, it was an easy flight.

We finally got to our rooms around noon and I was wiped. I set my alarm for two hours and crawled into bed. There was something strange going on with my mobile as it believes I am in Turkey or something. Anyway, the damn alarm didn't go off and I ended up waking up at 1800. This displeased me greatly as I wanted to go and explore the city. The good news is that Spain is a late country, dinner isn't usually consumed until ten so it gave me some time.

I went downstairs and received a map from the front desk with very specific instructions on where to go and what to see. I walked easily to the first couple of attractions and then ignored my instinct to turn right. This resulted in one of the many getting lost points of my day. I underestimated the vastness of this city and overestimated my sense of direction. It was not a good combination. Even though I enjoy getting lost in a new city, when time is ticking down on me it makes me feel uneasy. The Metros are not all over the place and the map I was given wasn't the greatest.

Disappointed, I got so turned around I didn't manage to see hardly anything. Once I took a train and then the Metro back to familiar ground, I treated myself to a much needed beer and some tapas.

I am hoping scheduling will grant me a do-over in the near future.

for the love of a city

My unused airport alert on Thursday did provide me the opportunity to pick up a trip. I only looked at the city and was so entranced, I didn't look at the position...back galley. I am not good at the back galley in any plane, let alone a wide body. I thought for sure someone would trade but I was met with snobbery when I asked. The speaker finally traded which put me out in the aisle. You have a bar cart partner and the relationship with that person can make or break the flight. I have lazy bitch as my partner. The trip isn't going well.

I got a bad vibe off of her from the get go and was disappointed to see she was on my side. It is typically the French speakers who are lazy but this one...she didn't do shit. When I am working, I just want to get the service over with, so I bust my ass. I did the drinks, the meals, the pick up the dah, dah, dah. This isn't a hard job, let's get it done. I came back with the second meal cart full and went off. The other reserve, not the lazy one felt my wrath and went to pick up. At the very end of the flight when we all pow-pow'd about our mutual feelings of disgust, I handed the bitch a pick up pan. "Your turn, we have all been out there." She looked at me with a profound look but went out there and picked up.

Here is the catch-22. Tomorrow, I can play that game and make her pick up my slack; I can doddle with the best of them. But, but we have crew breaks. That means we all want to finish as fast as possible so we can get more nap time in. Guess I will mess with her on the second service. And watch out for her name on future flights.

~~~~~ the layover
I had actually forgotten about my distaste for most of the crew after my nap here in Paris. That is the beauty of this job, letting go right after the flight is over.

We arrived after an hour and half bus ride into the city. I awoke from my mini nap just in time to see the Eifel Tower; I immediately smiled! We are staying in a new hotel so I was quickly shown around by the purser, who took an immediate shining to me. We had to wait a bit for our rooms so I decided to have coffee and then go straight out exploring.

The view from my room is the river and the mini statue of liberty. I had never seen it up close so I started my journey there. I crossed over the river and began my 4 hours of walking, shopping, exploring. I love being here! However cliche it is, it is one of my favorite cities.

Without my usual rest, I hit a wall around the fourth hour. My lunch of croque monsieur and wine put me over the edge, bed called out. Of course my sleeping pattern is a bit jacked and I am beating myself up for sleeping until the gym closure. Funny because I probably walked 12 miles today. Oh, well!

The funny thing about this layover. The last time I was in Paris was September 2008. I remember it well even though I had been working Paris trips all summer. I had been dumped the night prior. Paris is not a lovely place when newly single. Now I return with a new love. The love that was meant to be. Sometimes it takes a small pause of recognition and three years time to remember.

there and back

Within a day of being back home, I feel into routine of sleep and meeting Todd for dinner. It was nice, and it felt as though, I hadn’t been gone at all. The giant exception was the way he looked at me. Every look was one of gratitude and appreciation that I was home. I like these looks; they almost made the three weeks away worth it.

The only downside to being home this time of year was the allergies. They took me down for the last couple of days and kicked my ass. I was grateful to get on a plane and escape them. Grateful, also to know that this tour of duty was only a week and a half.

Commuting to work is my choice, when I choose to return to base and how is on my plate as well. The direct flight is not always open once summer hits so creative thinking as well as pulling a trigger in one direction is also required. The first bullet I loaded backfired and the flight filled up to an uncomfortable level. I decided to try it anyway versus being stuck in Portland. It wasn’t till I walked in to the airport, that I remembered an old friend, JetBlue. Sure they fly into Kennedy but that is still NYC… I’ll take it. So they generously listed me and off on the red eye I went. I made the decision.

My sleep was restless at best and I took all I could, as my assignment was airport alert at 1000. This is very unusual for us and almost impossible to get a trip off of. These are senior, senior mama trips I am covering and in order to get one, some one has to die on their way to work without contacting one of their friends to take their spot. I had a feeling today would be the day I would get one and be forced to stay up for the long flight and be quilted into touring about.

I touched down at JFK around 0620 and made my way to my home base the way I knew how. The shuttle service didn’t begin until 0800 and that was cutting it a bit too close for my comfort. Off to the air train I went and it took me two stops to realize I was on the wrong one. Now on the correct one, I made it to the subway. Mind you it is now the morning commute and I am coming all the way out from Queens to the city to catch my next form of transport. The 40 minutes on the train gave me plenty of time to contemplate bus or train. I went with train due to the morning rush hour.

I arrived at 0900 and stuck into the cleanest, quietest bathroom in the airport. I changed, washed my face, brushed the teeth and put on the war paint (as my dad would call it). I still looked like death.

Made my way into the crew room and positioned myself by the phones. I crashed out but did manage to hear the phone ring twice with my name not called after. Three hours later, I awoke and still in a daze realized my time to be used was coming to a close.

I don’t like going all the way there, especially with what I went through today and not going anywhere. It sucks cost wise, time wise, and roommate wise. I stuck around as long as I could because I wanted to hear the final union vote. I heard, we lost.

Made it back into the city still in a zombie phase and was chatting with my flat mate, when she told me I could pick up a trip due to the un-use of AA. I tried and it didn’t work due to my break day…I rang scheduling and they gave it to me!! Here’s hoping to hold onto my Paris! It has been so long that I have been there and my soul is always in need of Paris!!

couldn’t have been a sock….

So with my days off rolled to now Thursday, I ran to the gate to pre-board a flight to Bogota’. Before I knew it the door was closed and I was on my way. I haven’t flown a domestic trip in ages so it seemed like the service was over in no time. The crew was great, all four of us and I was delighted to hear we had a 30 hour layover.
We arrived at the airport to men with machine guns and tight immigrations. I smiled and asked for a stamp in my passport. As we exited the airport, it felt as though we were on the red carpet, there were hundreds of people they’re awaiting in bound passengers.
Met the crew for a Colombian beer prior to going to bed. We arranged to meet in the morning and plan out our day. As dangerous as it has been implied that Colombia is, my dear friend Jim told me I would be just fine and to go and explore. The breakfast was a lovely buffet with all you can drink coffee (OMG good) and ready, stuff French toast! Hello!

The gals and I decided to go and get a cheap mani and pedi and then the speaker offered to take us out. We grabbed a cab to the Montessori located 15 miles or so out of town and straight up a mountain. We took a tram up for a breathtaking view of Bogota’. Photos were taken; magnets and a flag were bought as well as postcards.
A run to the store to stock up on coffee lead into a comfortable evening. It is then I laid the groundwork for how I would get home. Our flight was set to land at 1538. The Portland flight was tight and then oversold. I took a look and there was flight to SEA at 1700. I have a motto, just start heading in the direction of where I need to be. Worse case, I could have driven home. I took a look at the weather in NYC, thunderstorms, no bueno.
We got to the airport and rushed people on and to their seats. My time clock had started ticking; I needed everything to work out. We did the safety demo and checks and while we were in the back waiting for the plane to move, a voice came over the PA. I didn’t understand a word but people started jumping up and grabbing their bags. Apparently there was a weight restrictions so all the non-revs had to get off. I looked painfully at my watch. 45 minutes we sat there and then they all came back on. Panic was starting in. I chatted with the pilots and told them about my flight, they were able to make the time up in the air.
Things were going well, the passengers were a bit dumb but whatever, and then the plane began a holding pattern. There was weather in NYC and we were circling above DC. FUCK! And to make matters worse is in his announcement of heartbreak he said we don’t have enough fuel to do this and may have to divert.
Luckily we got out of it and arrived 20 minutes late. There is a rule that flight attendants must remain on board the aircraft until all passengers have disembarked. In this case we had 9, yes 9 wheelchairs and 5 unaccompanied minors. We opened the door at 1624; I hid in the galley and checked my phone hoping the SEA flight was delayed. It was, by 1 minute…. And they had already issued me a seat in the exit row. Boarding had already begun. I had a sinking feeling almost one of defeat. My crew was awesome and ushered off all the wheelchair waiting people onto the jet bridge so I could go. I ran through the customs and immigration hall knowing I had just landed from a red flag country and could get asked to step aside at any moment.
Made it through without a body cavity search and run up to security. Through my things, computer, jacket and shoes up and gathered them up as quickly as possible. With my four inch heals, full uniform and 60 pounds of luggage in tow, I began to all out run to the gate. It was gate 80 almost at the end of the concourse. I was so out of breath by the time I made it there, I could only show my badge when she asked for my name.
My exit row seat had been given away in my absence but suddenly replaced with a first class seat. I walked down the jet bridge and took my place in the cue of 10 or so people. The agent, god bless her in all ways, came and ushered me in front of everyone. This made me feel uncomfortable because I was receiving special treatment. I embarrassingly walked behind her to the gripping of the people waiting to board; the ground guy stopped me and told me I had to check my bag. I told him that I had a close connection in SEA and before he could say anything the agent made the proclamation that I was in first class. I walked in and looked desperately for a space. I am in frantic mode still and sweat is dripping off of me. I find a small space and just want to get the bag up and sit down getting out of everyone way.
First class is fully boarded, the plane is as well, and the flight attendants don’t seem to be in the great of a mood. I heave my bag up and it gets caught on something. I am trying to fix it and can’t think clearly enough. Meanwhile 2A is yelling at me about her stripped bag. I go to my seat without it fully in and wait for everyone to be boarded. Of course I am at the window so I keep climbing over this nice Chinese man. After the boarding was complete, I got back up to give it another go. By this time some other passenger and the agent are trying to help me and all that is coming out of my mouth is how embarrassed I am. My bag is too fat as well as caught so I reach in to the front pocket and remove my Duane reed sack of laundry. Finally the bag goes in and I can sit down. Sweat begins to drench my body once it is settled. I apologize to my neighbor who finds kind humor in the whole situation and tells me to relax.
I shoot off a text to the BF that I have made it on board and am heading west. As I am taking a drink of water, I see 2A and 2B give the grumpiest flight attendant something. Something I recognize. I watch her walk to the galley and then I read her lips, “Somebody’s fucking panties!” We all know whom they belong to. She marches back to the seat and asked what the hell. I hear, “they are the flight attendants” as four different people start pointing to my seat.
I have to own up to this, and as she begins to approach me, I just tell her. Yep, those are mine; this is my life in a nutshell. She begins to bust out laughing and ask me if I want them back. No, please throw my Primark bikini work panties away. And I promised not to make any more trouble on this flight.
Even though there was weather in NYC they let our plane go, the flight time was shorter than usual as well so I was feeling pretty good about my connection.
As the service began the other flight attendants came up to take my order. She assured me my name won’t be told but the story sure would be. At this point it just became a good story. We chatted more about my day when I finally got the nerve to walk past the panty givers and go to the bathroom an hour later.
Close to landing, I went in a brushed my teeth and freshened my makeup. When I exited they asked me if I could take a jump seat for landing as one of the crew as sick. Absolutely! So I put on my jacket and tucked in my shirt and then started picking up the first class cabin. A military guy was then moved to my seat and the sick flight attendant to 1B. I am sure the first class cabin felt like they were playing a game of Clue.
The good news was that I was one of the first people off the plane and after my grace from prior, I sprinted up the jet way. We arrived at gate B3, I begin to look for my connection. It is 2010 and I haven’t checked in for it, only listed. I go to the board…N12! Where the hell is that? I started sprinting once again through yet another airport. Through the food court, my eyes scanning signs as fast as possible. I spotted an Alaska employee, “where’s N terminal?” I asked while still in full stride. I was told I had to go downstairs and take a train. My response, are you fucking kidding me?
So off I went and all the while trying to check myself in via my mobile. I arrive breathlessly at the gate to see another FA waiting her turn for a ride home. I ran up to the gate and checked in. I was then informed that there were no more seats left, they were waiting for passengers. I sighed and started thinking of a back up plan. We stood there patiently as they paged John Marsh over and over again. Finally, they called it and handed both of us tickets home.
Walking through the PDX terminal relieved that I made it there through every possible obstacle given to me gave me the extra strength to run and jump into the waiting arms of Todd. At that second, I would have done it all again.

AA to the third

The third time I have sat airport alert this month. What I hate most is not having a clue where I am going. Granted, I usually get some good trips off “riding the couch” but today, I just want to know when I will be finished. I was mentally ready to go home yesterday. I am good for one day before my six, glorious days off. When I didn’t get my personal drop for today after sitting at the airport for 5 hours after my flight, I was crushed. When I looked at my schedule at 9pm and there was no assignment, that old feeling of anxiety came rushing over me. I woke up several times to check my phone (which turned off) in the middle of the night and then the computer. Finally I woke up at 1030 and found out I was to be at the airport at 315. After a run, shower and grabbing less expensive lunch at the deli, I made my way here.
My past two times of this assignment I was sent to Europe, which is always nice for a gal who spend so much time in the UK. The first was Oslo and I was grateful to be in the back. Yes you read that correctly. The f/c galley lady drove me nuts from the get go with her running mouth. The peeps in the back galley were cool and hard workers, which was good because our purser was a lazy idiot. The flight over wasn’t too bad and a nap was certainly in order and cheap once we reached Oslo.
Since the sun is up 20 hours of the day, it was a perfect city to take a long rest and still have daylight to go walk around. I brought an apple with me and it was my dinner. Oslo is expensive!! We did get free breakfast from the hotel so your truly was down there at the crack of dawn loading up!
The flight home ….NIGHTMARE! I can’t believe I am related to this people. They drank us out of house and home. There was barely enough food for the crew. The purser screwed us out of a long nap and proved her stupidity while we were trying to seat a family together. This was a Chinese Family holding Norwegian passports; she says “habla espanol” to the eye roll of me and the quizzical looks of the passengers. What a fucking idiot!
I needed a day off after that hot mess. Philly took my mind off the job for the day.
My next assignment was Friday with thunderstorms. Always a good time to be here because senior mamas miss their commute and good trips come in. I arrived extra early just because I had nothing else to do. I sat here for a bit and worked then reported for duty 30 minutes before I needed to. Two seconds later the phone rang and I was off to Frankfurt.
I was the person they needed to make it a less hellious flight. Every single crewmember came up to me with thanks. Turns out that I was flying with a big wig, who made one phone call for an extra person. The flight was fantastic; I work my favorite aisle and had a great galley and entire crew.
Our layover is in a small German town 30 miles outside of Frankfurt. I love this layover, I adore Germany. I went straight out after arriving to walk around the city. Came back for a quick nap and then met the crew for dinner. Jagerschnitzel!! One of my favorite things.
So once more I sit, waiting for not only my destination but also the end time, the time before I can get on a plane and make it back home for a week. I am so homesick.

airport arrest

I sit here once more on airport alert waiting for the phone......

RING....off to Frankfurt

0617

five years ago today, I woke up in Texas and began training college. It seems like ten lifetimes ago as well as just yesterday.

brotherly love

On my return to NYC, I told myself that I needed to do those things I wanted to do but never got around to either due to laziness or complaincy. The idea that I have three roommates is forcing me out of the house more. I was dinking around on the internet and was thrilled to learn that I could journey to Philly for $11 each way on this wonderful new discovery, the Bolt Bus. This blog is coming from here currently as I make my way back to the big apple.

I was up with the nine to fiver's this morning as I made my way down to Penn Station. Post and ice coffee in hand I boarded the bus and in two hours I had passed through three states and was dropped off in downtown Philadelphia. I had been here once for a layover and drug the crew out for a cheesesteak at 11pm because we were in the ghetto and I didn't want to go alone. Sidenote: best damn cheesesteak I have ever had.

I have this goal of seeing all the baseball stadiums in America and have been in the rut of my beloved Yankees. This was my opportunity to see another so I quickly mastered the subway and made my way out to the ball park. I was lucky enough to snag a cheap ticket and made my way in. Much to my surprise Cliff Lee was pitching. I grabbed a philly cheessesteak and made it to my seat. Perfect day for a game. After three seat changes because I was on the wrong tier and then the wrong section, I settled in and watched this team play. They are a hell of a good team but man, they are just pricks and their fans are even worse. Whatever, I was there for the love of baseball and no, I didn't dare don my Yankees cap.

After the game I made my way back to the city for some exploring. First independence hall followed by the old liberty bell. I chatted up the guard so he could take my photo. The great thing about doing that? He made people move so he could do it!

A walk back through the ick side of the city, a place I would equate to the shady area I lived in Brooklyn. I found the Hard Rock for Minda's shot glass and then made my way to marvel at City Hall. The architecture was amazing. Next I made my way to the LOVE statue and took photos. I must admit that I was silly to think that this only existed in NYC on 6th avenue. I was happy to be proven incorrect.

The next thing on my list was the Rocky stairs, also known as the Museum. I walked down Ben Franklin Parkway doing mental check marks of the flags of my visits. I walked and walked....finally I got to the damn place. I jogged up the stairs and turned to admire the view. While watching people using the venue for vagarious workouts, I remembered that I bought a cupcake earlier and enjoyed it.

found the Rocky statue and then made my way back to 30th Street Station for potty and a magnet. I was going to catch an earlier bus back to the city. And what do you know? There was one about to leave who welcomed me on! Love when timing works out! Karma for the times that I just miss things.

This girl is brotherly loved out and awaiting a nice sleep as well as a" where in the world" assignment tomorrow.

Perfect day trip!

pillow tease

Because of my lack of time prior to leaving and my badge mishap, I was forced to BB&B to purchase a pillow and some toiletries. I am inherently cheap. This is a learning from my father, he would talk about heating the outside, lights being on unnecessarily, money doesn't grow on trees...
So I ended up purchasing the least expensive things I could find. Travel size of bath wash and face wash and a travel pillow. I refused to pay $10 for a pillow when I had already picked one up at Target for $4. A miscommunication between the BF and I resulted in no box being shipped; which equaled me on a travel pillow for the past week. It is a nice addition to my air mattress that I have to climb up into.
My roommate has been shopping on Target.com and over the past three days have received bedding via mail and much to my dismay, pillow. Two days in a row, the buzzer has woke me to find, not my wanted box, but pillows for L.
The box came today, with no note (it is the little things that thrill me) just in time for my airport alert assignment.

So here I am on my first gamble trip, hoping for something fantastic!

no getting laid-layover

The things of love and hate also boarder in my heart with those of luck and no luck. I have been told my many a palm reader, tarrot card reader, etc. that I am extremely lucky. In fact, I went as far as boasting about this luck on my body in the form of a tattoo. I admit, I fall ass backwards into a lot of good shit, and this is what I need to remember when I strike out.

It began with playful text between the BF and I on Wednesday. One idea lead to another and we planned to have him fly out for the weekend and go on a trip with me. I told him that ever star had to line up for this to happen...flights had to be open, I had to work a trip that had seats, one that would let him go to the hotel with us...yadda, yadda, yadda. The stars did line up and hopes jumped right in the que as well. He was booked on the red eye Thursday and would come spend the day with me Friday; he even willing to head to the Chinese Consult with me. Then we would go to Belfast together, since the flight was open up front, I knew the pursor, the city...all was perfect.

Well, you know those thunderstorms I like so much? Well they don't play a good role in stand by travel. Right as the BF was about to leave for the airport, I checked his flight status one more time out of paranoia and there it was...oversold flights. Piss!

I spent the day in NY running my errands thinking how much more fun it would be to stand in the hot sun wanting in line for my passport or picking up my watch from repair, if I had a partner.

The flight to Belfast was booked and we ended up going without a crew member putting me in my beloved galley and out of the aisle. The aisle that much to my distain showed proudly it's one open seat in first class.

love/hate relationship

My "crash pad" is with friends in the city, they live on the UWS, a neighborhood I had not previously lived in but had experience working and wandering about. It is beautiful, a block from Central Park, right near shops and restaurants. Perfect location.
I have started to run again, with extra time on my hands, a beautiful park and sunshine there is no excuse not to. Also, I am keen on staying out of the way at our place as there is not too much alone time for the permanent flatmate. Last night and days prior I found myself wandering around the neighborhood after errands and cooling down after my walk. Manhattan is a seductress. I dream about what it would be like to live in a doorman building on CPW or an old brownstown with my own steps. I watch locals bustle about with groceries or going to the gym or having dinner outside, and I envy them. I long to be that person who came here when I was in my early twenties an found myself settled as legitimate New Yorker.
I love NYC in the summer; the heat, the thunderstorms, the park, the humidity....all of it. Today I sat on the edge of the Hudson River and watched the skies dance with lighting and listened to the thunder roll in.

This morning I had to wake after only five hours of rest to do day things. A good international flight attendant stays up late and sleeps in. I stayed up until 0200 and then the nasty alarm went off at 0700. I was not happy. The reason for my early wake up was to go the Chinese Consulate and get my visa. We are required to have it in case some miracle day happens and we (junior crew) get to go. If we don't have it and get called for that elusive flight then we are in trouble...I don't like being in trouble or even the thought of it for that matter.

I attempted to do this yesterday as the rumor mill said they are now taking two days to process instead of one but god love NYC. I set off to find a fedex office to print something and to get my passport photos taken. Should be simple right? No. After my two hours of walking in 99 degree weather, all I managed to find was a Rite Aid where I had to demand people pay attention to me and do their job. The result was a sweaty passport photo and $9 out of my pocket.

Last evening I found out the nearest place to print off my form and the consulate hours. I prepared...so I thought. I got up and to the Fedex office, printed and filled out the form and sleepily drug myself onto the subway. I had five more long blocks to walk after that. I got there 30 minutes before they were opened to find myself at least the 100th person in line. We are ushered in through security and set in ques. There is a screaming baby, I don't have any water (not allowed) and I stood in line for 40 minutes before my turn to the window. Around minute 33 I wondered where my supervisor was supposed to sign my application. I looked over it again and got a sinking feeling that I forgot something. Sure as shit, Mrs. Yang pointed it out. I made up some story that I didn't need it since I was renewing my visa, she didn't buy it. Fuck!!

Defeated I walked four long blocks for water and a breakfast roll ($3, love food carts). I sat down ready to give up and then was determined to get this over with. I googled and found a Staples 10 blocks away. I got there and the damn printer needed a cartridge. My eyes started to swell up with defeat. Why is it so damn hard to print something? Why wasn't I with it in the first place? I pulled it together to ask where another place was. Three blocks this time... I was loosing precious time with the embassy. I got there, printed it out and hailed a cab. I couldn't walk the mile. That of course took 10 minutes and $10. I ran back through security and cut off everyone to hand the stupid letter to Mrs. Yang. 'You come back tomorrow 9 am'. Great, just what I want to do.

I remember feeling so angry that I couldn't get the simplest thing accomplished and it cost me $20 and three hours just to hand over my passport. I loathe this city for that. And yes I get the saying, if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere. It is because of shit like this morning.

The easy stuff, the walk in the beautiful neighborhood, the culture, the feeling of being alive...all that takes care of the love part. The part that keeps people around trying and someday marrying or breaking up with New York City.

bookended

The bookend trip of my leave of absence played out nearly the same. Although I was scheduled to be the galley, the aisle girl asked me if wanted to trade. Any other time I would have said no, but I was ok just easing back into the flow of things. It was like riding a bike and the longer I was I on the more comfortable I got. I was standing around like a ding-dong when I came time for the all-call.

The lady I am working with in the front is so East Coast/Jersey/PA, it is funny; I have been removed from the environment for so long I forget. She is a non-stop gossiper and talker. She was all about filling me in on the “dirt” of the airline and who go fired and demoted and whom I shouldn’t fly with… like I have a choice. Then she found about dog walking, and talked intermittently between gossip and her neighbors’ doings about dogs. How dogs are drawn to her, how she is the neighborhood dog whisper, about each and every neighborhood dog and their behavior with her and their owner, their kind, there fencing situation….I am sorry is the sentence a run-on? Well so was she. I am sure she will have thought about more to talk about while we are on our layover.

So the place is Manchester and the only thing that has changed that I have noticed is a new fast food place across the street from the hotel and the absence of my favorite tea.

My body had not a clue what was going on last night and the flight was exceptionally long. Even though our service took forever, I mean this people took 20 minutes to eat their appetizers, I was totally bummed to see we had three more hours left. I pulled out a book and the galley was cold enough to stay away. The most reading I was able to get done was when yapper went into the pit for 30 minutes. Otherwise she would just start talking whenever a thought entered her head. I did have the passing thought of, dear god what did I sign my self up for?

The bus ride was long and I was able to snooze off for a bit before reaching a glorious bed. I have been sleeping on an air mattress in a loft for the weekend and a plane seat and lounge chair the evening prior. A bed felt amazing and seven hours of sleep followed.

Toured about the city attempting to find Man U tees for my husbands but had no luck. I wasn’t even in the mood to shop. I got a bit cocky walking home as I previously new the city by heart. Well mama got a bit off track…not too much as when I stopped into another hotel for directions; I was only five blocks from mine.

It is odd to be back, I can’t really describe it at the moment…

here i sit

So after my weekend in the city, the celebration of my friend's birthday followed by sleeping for 12 hours, I am at the airport and ready to go.
The instructions were to wait until Monday, ring in to the person who dropped the ball on my badge in the first place and then make my way in. I arrived at the airport at noon. I wanted that badge in my hand before I called scheduling and told them I was a go. By the time I sat down, new badge in hand, I had a trip. When we were guessing where I would be send, everyone had their thoughts, some I didn't like, others I loved. I had a grimacing thought that I would bookend my leave of absence with the same trip. This gut, it serves me well...off to Manchester I go.
Since I was so paranoid about my badge, I am now here six hours early. It is freezing and I attempted to take a small nap as body doesn't have a clue what is going on and I am sure will wonder what the hell it is doing tonight. I cherish the 20 minutes I did get as this is not the most quiet place in the world. I woke up to some asshole making the grossest noise with his snot. I packed up and moved immediately.
I am working the front galley, a position that I love! The memory is slowly coming back to me about which things go in which ovens and I plan to be on that plane as soon as they let me to get it set up.
I will say this, I am happy to be going to a familiar destination as I can sleep in and wander about. If it was a new place and I had to be a self guided tourist, I am not sure I could muster up the energy.
So with my blonde badge in hand accompaning my old brunette badge, this new brunette sets back into the friendly skies.

the return

I always have this saying….it mostly used when other people are bitching and complaining, “you are always supposed to be exactly where you are”. I rarely remember this when I am in the middle of a freak out because something didn’t go as planned. I plan a lot of things in my mind, play them out in every act and wrap them up nicely right in time or a bit to spare, as I have been raised. This is the girl side of me, we all have it, it is what drives men nuts because we have cast them in our mental plays but yet didn’t hand them a script.

My first journey back into the flight attendant world started with the prep work. I had three weeks to prepare… first off was to finish Project: Pooches in the Pearl. Done, but not as well as I would have liked. Project: Recess was a bit more complicated as it involved the creation of calendars, color-coding, tally spread sheets, revisions of the manual, being a safety net. In my play this was all complete prior to Memorial Day weekend so I could spend the whole next week devoted to Project: Me. Although Project Me was based on getting ready to return the flying world, packing changing my sleep patterns, planning ahead, it also include luxuries such as yoga daily, massages, hair appointments and rest. Dinner with the BF was on the agenda too. I pictured us enjoying a last dinner outside in the warm spring Portland air at one of my favorite Italian restaurants, perhaps a glass of wine to aid sleep on my journey out to work. From the airport, I would simply sleep and then travel on to my chosen destination from there. Perfect right?

Project: Recess went on well into Thursday with a lot more questions, which I didn’t mind, extra walks…which I did, extra overnight which had me walking three small pups all day Friday. Yoga sadly went by the wayside as time sped by. I did manage to get my hair done as no blonde would survive un-harrassed as a tourist in NYC and I did have a massage. It was not the kind of relaxing massage I had scripted, instead this man was looking for secret information…I didn’t know what he wanted but I was willing to tell him anything and everything. Old lady here, hurt her back during kickboxing and has been nursing it since then.

My romantic Friday evening dinner was that of a piece of cheese and lemon grass soda from Whole Foods as we jetted to the airport. I snapped at poor Todd under stress and walked up to the gate just as they were boarding.

I arrived at my home base around 0530 and went right up to the duty desk to ask for my new badge..they looked and looked. (Mine had expired during the leave.) Nothing. Into my supervisors office I go to be informed that if we can’t locate then I have to be removed from my trip. The badging office isn’t open on Saturday and there is a hold that needs to be lifted which was “ball dropped on our end”. I took a nap until noon and returned to her office to see if there was some miracle that would allow me to work. Nope. I had to drag my stuff into the city and wait until Monday to have the paper work done.

I am disappointed because first off, I came here to work, secondly I am staying at an apartment where I need to be out of sight out of mind to have this work, thirdly now I am just sitting around nyc totally broke for the weekend. The only good thing to come of this: my friend Carries birthday party is tonight…. I get to attend.