Why am I not surprised?

I've been working, but not on the railroad.

noreply@blogger.com (jennifer) — Thu, 16 Oct 2008 18:16:00 +0000

On a recent trip to Target, I bought $22 worth of dental floss. I highly recommend, and use exclusively, this particular brand. It is good, but it is pricey. Therefore, upon seeing the little orange tags (that definitely raise my heart rate, but sometimes merely signal a 50-cent reduction in price) on my favorite floss, I chose the stock-up method. Since the price had actually been slashed nearly $2 on the usually $3.75 item, I bough 13 of them. Who says a single person can't buy in bulk?

Also, I learned while listening to Sirius Radio, that Playboy has a station. I repeat, Playboy has a radio station. This falls into the ludicrous department, in my humble opinion, much like the aforementioned Hooters to-go menu.

Chicago (MDW) is my new base as of last week. It is a great airport, but not an easy commute. Orlando may be in my future once more.

Maybe you have noticed, but the economy is not robust of late. After months of intending to get out of debt, I have finally made progress. I began by reading Financial Peace by Dave Ramsey. His method is simple and easy to implement. Also, he is a financial genius. Visit his website to get free, downloadable worksheets to get on a budget. In January 2008, I had 4 active credit cards. As of Friday, I will have one. 'Nuff said. Thanks to Crispin & Matthew for inspiring me.

Since getting out of debt is within my reach and I am super-motivated, all I do lately is work. But hopefully within the next 6 months, I will owe nothing to anyone, and normal life will resume. Or maybe not 'normal' per se, but something akin to it in Jennifer's world. Until then, look for me on your local Southwest flight!

And now for something completely different.

noreply@blogger.com (jennifer) — Thu, 03 Jul 2008 18:31:00 +0000

Thanks to my Super Stew friend April for harassing me into watching this. I love it! If the above video is not accessible to you, try the one below. They're the same.

Throwing you a bone

noreply@blogger.com (jennifer) — Thu, 03 Jul 2008 13:41:00 +0000

OK, so there are official online hecklers that have noticed my lack of posting of late. My apologies.

I did visit my favorite former California roommate Melanie a few weeks ago while overnighting in San Jose. We did the obligatory In-N-Out run, she drove me around the Google campus (they have dozens of company bicycles sitting outside the buildings, waiting to be ridden by employees), and we parked illegally and balanced the camera on someone's car to take the photo at right. One more minute and the Google security people, who do not ride bicycles, would have surely forced us to leave. We then cruised around Mountain View, went to her dad's house, and decided to see a matinee movie. Before she returned me to the hotel, we stopped to document our Silicon Valley tour by posing in front of the Yahoo! sign for good measure.

Weeks prior to that, I participated in my 8th wedding as a bridesmaid-of-sorts. Drs. Kendra and John Kurylo are now my go-to physicians-at-large. Congrats to them on their nuptials and graduation from Boston University Medical School one week prior, and it was great spending time with Crispin & Matthew, Caty & Ryan, Libby & Jonathan during the festivities. And I am not the least bit irked that simply because I did not bring a date to the wedding, I was seated at a table with 7 people I had never before met. I guess being the odd wheel is not a good idea. Thankfully, my mom has prepared me for such situations by sending me newspaper articles entitled "Learning how to talk the talk at parties," and the audiobook "The fine art of small talk." Thanks, mom.

Not to be outdone, my favorite former junior-year roommate and current go-to legal counsel, Shelly Bibb DeAdder, graduated from North Carolina Central Law School. I was excited to attend that ceremony and was inspired and confused when the speaker, the first female African-American appointed to the N.C. State Supreme Court, attributed the statement "What does it profit a man if he gain the whole world but lose his own soul?" to Sir Thomas More. I did not take it upon myself to point out to her the egregious error. As the 'old saying' goes, "'Vengeance is mine'."

I consider myself a success by proxy. All my friends are proving to be more than contributing members of society. I will not let my relationships slip away.

Speaking of my parents, they are retired. We spent time in Durham, N.C., to watch the ACC tournament back in March. This is a photo taken by my mom's cousin Susan of my parents, apparently exhausted by all the screaming and excitement. How cute is this??

Right now, I'm languishing in Cape Girardeau following a weekend illness. I will not elaborate beyond this advice: the Burger King Steakhouse Burger is currently on my list of foods to avoid. I have found a normal-seeming chiropractor, massage therapist, and family practice physician. Getting a company-required doctor's note did take me the better part of two hours, over two days, multiple phone calls to the office and my union, and one doctor threatened to rescind the note she had already given me because I was so annoying her. I feel like a third-grader.

Any audience requests?

Mormonopolis!

noreply@blogger.com (jennifer) — Mon, 17 Mar 2008 19:53:00 +0000

Who knew Salt Lake City was named after a body of water named Salt Lake? I know now, and so do you. Crispin and I arrived last Thursday night with the express intent to ski Deer Valley and burn a massive number of calories. After securing discounted tickets Friday morning, we tested our skills on the huge mountain. We rode the lift with a producer from Extreme Makeover: Home Edition who said he “worked on the lifts,” by which he meant he used his internet-connected phone device to broker deals between runs. In fact, he said, Will Ferrell would be coming in the next day, and he was celebrating a $140 million deal from the day before. We congratulated him, and I asked him to spot me a $20. He declined. At a lunch break, I saw Robert Redford, whose Sundance Ranch is nearby. He's shorter than I'd suspected.

Unfortunately, we are both growing older. In the three years since her last run and the four since mine, our bodies have forgotten the effort involved and level of fitness required to truly enjoy the sport called skiing. It was a fun day, but the soreness of our legs and my weird lip-burn (who knew lips could get third degree burns?) forced us to change our Saturday plans.

No matter, there is plenty to do and see in the Mormon capital of the world. We began by congratulating each other on our possession of a Garmin GPS unit (I cannot recommend them highly enough to the general public, especially in cities like L.A. or Salt Lake). The city planners must have been underpaid, as the downtown is nothing short of confusing. Streets are named one of four things: Temple, Main, State, or a number. To arrive at Temple Square, the locale of all the Church buildings downtown, we took West 600 South Street to South West Temple to West South Temple. No kidding. Had we turned left from South West Temple onto West 300 South, we would have shortly come to the intersection of West 300 South and South 300 West. After taking I-15 20 miles north to visit a State Park, we drove past residential roads named 3300 West and 1700 South. I guess creativity in naming is not valued highly in Utah.

But we persevered, and were rewarded initially with a short walking tour of Temple Square. As it was Saturday, we saw no fewer than 4 brides and bridal parties posing for photographs behind the tall gates surrounding the Temple. After obtaining directions from a man wearing a nametag and a completely white suit and tie, we arrived in front of the Tabernacle to hear a 30-minute recital on the amazingly large organ located therein. As the organist played, I read the testimony of Joseph Smith and some of the beliefs of the Mormon faith as outlined in a pamphlet, including the eternal nature of marriage and the necessity of baptizing one's deceased ancestors. This is the reason for the Mormon emphasis on genealogical research. Interestingly, atop all the Mormon Temples around the world is not a cross, but a golden figure of the angel Moroni, who appeared to Joseph Smith a number of times, and whose name is far underutilized in our society, in my opinion.

We proceeded then to Sportsman's Warehouse, where a tiny bear cub was being tossed about like a rag doll as people waited 2 hours or more to have their photo made with him. Granted, no fewer than 6 cubs were on hand for this purpose, on loan from a local zoo, but the poor thing barely had its eyes open and was meeting a new family nearly every 60 seconds or so. Photo at left. We decided against waiting and took our own, free photos.

After this, we made the drive north to Salt Lake, the saltiest body of water in the world after the Dead Sea. Whereas the ocean is approximately 3% salt, Salt Lake has between 4-28%. In the park area, we saw herds of bison, chased packs of jack rabbits across the road and back, and marveled at piles of bison excrement larger than both my fists put together. At dinner, our waiter sported a Hawaiian accent (I had no idea there was such a thing; Crispin was on top of it) and said he had moved north for love of a girl he had met surfing. I commented on the lack of surfing in Utah and he sadly agreed.

In all, our trip was very fun and more than interesting. For a whirlwind trip across the country on a shoestring budget, we made it great. Old friendships deserve to be nurtured; growing older only increases the desire to be known. Long-time friends, I salute you.

Falling off the Face of the Earth

noreply@blogger.com (jennifer) — Thu, 28 Feb 2008 19:34:00 +0000

It has been long enough. I have so much to say, but always find thoughts hard to recall when I actually have an internet connection. So many hotels want $10 of my hard-earned cash to merely allow me to check my email that I am not as connected these days.

Christmas was fun; I took off for two weeks. How great is it that my job allows an 8-month employee to do that without calling in sick?

In January, I worked hard, flying out of Orlando, Baltimore and Phoenix. Follow the money trail. On a flight from Las Vegas to Burbank, I had Jamie Farr of M*A*S*H fame on my front row. This was my first real celebrity sighting on a plane, and I was quite ecstatic. He was very polite and told me I was pretty; I still charged him for a drink. The other senator from Illinois (not Obama) was also on a full flight I worked out of Manchester into Chicago the morning after the primaries there. I took a photo of him with some other passengers.

People continue to amaze me in airports across the nation. Wherever there is a moving sidewalk, there are stationary people. It's as if they think the sidewalk is moving in order to relieve them of that task. No wonder obesity is out of control.

I experienced severe turbulence at the beginning of the month. The part when I say, "Position your seatbelt tight and low across your hips and wear it whenever you are seated" now has a special meaning to me. Coming across the Rockies from Oakland into Chicago, all three of the flight attendants were sitting on the back row, awaiting a few 'bumps' we had been told about. Before we knew it, we were all on the ceiling. Joal and I were unbelted and hit our heads on the bottom of the overhead bins, and I was tossed into the aisle and thrown forward a few rows. Joal was knocked unconscious for a few seconds. Paige took these photos of the back galley. On the lower left photo, where the single blue can is standing, is the bin where there are normally about 120 cans. They are on the floor. Some exploded inside the bin. Thankfully, no passengers were injured and the rest of the flight was smooth. There was only one more leg to Orlando, which Joal and I did not work. After visiting the doctor, I went back to Cape Girardeau and sat around like a slug for nearly two weeks before returning to work last Wednesday. Again, I say, always wear that seatbelt!

More later.

Merry December!

noreply@blogger.com (jennifer) — Mon, 03 Dec 2007 15:11:00 +0000

How is it that nearly 2 months have elapsed since I last attempted to share the details of my so-called life with you, my readership? Did I mention how incredibly unusual my day-to-day existence is?

Point in case: my job has been 'in' Baltimore since May. For December, I'll be commuting to Orlando instead. Last week, I had the opportunity to pick up a trip originating in Phoenix with a friend of mine from training. I left there Saturday morning to meet Greg in Memphis; I ended up hitching a ride on another airline, the first time I've used my travel benefits on a carrier other than my own.

I arrived at the airport fully intending to throw myself on the mercy of the gate agent, as our companies' agreement states that I should have paper passes (generated in Dallas and payroll deducted; allow 5 days for processing, please) in hand. Nevertheless, since the ground employees seemed unaware or unaffected by this policy, I was simply allowed to just get onboard. For free. Ah, seat-of-my-pants sometimes works well.

On the downside, my passage through security would have been embarrassing had I not long ago squelched/shunned any pride with which I may have been born. The Phoenix airport has multiple security checkpoints, one for each terminal. I ended up leaving from a terminal that does not have Southwest service. Consequently, the TSA agent who sent my bags through the x-ray machine told me I was in error because I possessed liquids, gels, and potions. I stated that I was crew. He countered with, "No you're not." I pointed to my wings, saying, "I'm with Southwest." He quickly said, "You're not in uniform." I gestured to my crew badge, denim shirt, navy sweater vest, and polyester khakis and said, "Yes, yes I am." Had not another, more astute colleague of his saved me at that moment by saying, "She's Southwest, and she is in uniform," our verbal sparring might well have lasted hours. I laughed my way to the gate after telling him, "We all look like Catholic school kids." No offense intended.

So my time with my friend April was fun; we hung out for three days and got paid for it. Below is a photo of her (center) and Gigi as we waited in Reno. It was snowing and I wanted to stay. She showed me around her great city, taking me to a reigning horse ranch (where people send their quarterhorses to learn to compete and win money), her favorite sandwich shop ever, and generally making me like Phoenix more than I ever expected I would.

My cat enjoyed her time with my parents between July and November; I think she loves them more than me because they spoiled her so. I've only seen her for a few days in the last month because of my schedule. Greg, I think, has even forgotten my last name. It will get better in January, I tell them both.

Enough with the generic 'Happy Holidays' stuff. Merry Christmas to you all.

Oxymoronic

noreply@blogger.com (jennifer) — Sat, 20 Oct 2007 01:11:00 +0000

Though the world seems to be full of such things, let me point out the most egregious offender I have noticed of late: Hooters. Not just the fact that the so-called 'restaurant' exists at all, but the even scarier fact that they now offer to-go food. A mini-menu is pictured at right in lieu of me linking to their trashy website. Does anyone else understand the magnitude of absurdity that is Hooters to-go? If you don't, I can't explain it; if you do, enough said.

Embarrassing

noreply@blogger.com (jennifer) — Wed, 17 Oct 2007 03:02:00 +0000

First off, I just had to check dictionary.com for the correct spelling of the title of my blog.

Secondly, I have been working and doing other things with such a lack of regularity that I've hardly thought of blogging, much less had the motivation or time to do it. Ah, how the once verbose have been silenced. This goes for answering emails, phone messages, or attempting in any way to contact pretty much everyone. I am certainly no respecter of persons.

(Sidenote: after an unholy amount of urging from Linda, I signed up for Facebook. I have since been added as a friend by some 2o people. I find this odd, as my page contains no information regarding myself, much less my photograph. I have no time for virtual friends; I can't keep up with the ones I am lucky enough to see every few months!)

Thirdly, my chosen title is a double entendre, as it applies to the following video as much as it does to my thoughts concerning myself. I was just remembering one of the funniest interviews that I've ever seen and was lucky enough to find it on the web. It is posted below. Don't be daunted by it's 5 minute length; it is worth every second.

There are photos I'd like to share with you, but I haven't downloaded them from my camera yet.

Lately

noreply@blogger.com (jennifer) — Mon, 27 Aug 2007 17:33:00 +0000

I have taken to cutting my own hair. Piecemeal. With toenail clippers.

You see, my hairstyle of choice (of necessity) is a twisted bun-like shape secured with a clip. (Read: 27-year-old librarian) When it has been so many days that the one-minute do bores even me, I switch it up with a French braid. The catch is that my long-overdue-for-a-trim layers end up not harmonizing and little pieces hang down awkwardly, which totally ruins the clean effect of said braid.

Enter clippers. Or sewing scissors. Or whatever sharp, cutting instruments tend to be within reach. Such are the depths to which I am OK with stooping.

Also, in my last post I failed to include this wonderfully telling photo.

It would seem that, for whatever Cape Girardeau lacks, it does boast a weekly appearance by Jesus, who heals at a local prayer room. But only from 7-9 p.m. Latecomers will not be seen.

Anyway, Libby and Jonathan's wedding can be viewed in word or video format at The New York Times website.

Speaking of, I made a new friend at their wedding - Sarah. Turns out, she is from St. Louis, attended Covenant College, and taught at Cadek with Libby when I was in Chattanooga. She also knows Susan and some of my other Presbyterian friends. Small world; we hit it off immediately. When Libby and Jonathan insisted that visiting them in their Manhattan apartment, Sarah and I took it to heart. Three weeks and two days after their wedding, we arrived on their doorstep, just blocks from Wall Street. Here we are in front of the Brooklyn Bridge.

Our tour was damp and cool, to say the least. It poured on our one full day in the city, but we were not deterred from standing in line for half-price Monty Python's Spamalot tickets, sloshing through Times Square, eating at the nation's first pizzarria, gorging on $6.50/slice cheesecake, and viewing the Bodies exhibit.

And we also spent an entire afternoon in Jonathan's violin shop (or rather, the one where he is a salesman) with violins that are more valuable than I am. The picutre here is of Libby showing me correct hand placement to play Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star on a $4.5 million Stradivarius.

On Wednesday, I went to visit Greg in Brunswick, GA, the antithesis of Manhattan. Ah, the world of travel.

May I leave you with a short clip? Please enjoy watching Miss Teen South Carolina completely fail to finish a sentence, much less prove a capability for actual thought.

...And you thought I was dead.

noreply@blogger.com (jennifer) — Thu, 02 Aug 2007 16:44:00 +0000

I'm not, although I have felt on the verge of late.

**Info for those who care: click on any of the photos in my blog to see them MUCH bigger.**

Here is the article featuring this not-so-flattering pic of Liza and me. I guess it serves me right for not offering a press release stating my intent to visit Chattanooga, my hour-by-hour itinerary while there, and my thoughts and feelings afterward. Duly noted. But really. Come on.

What has happened since I last recorded my life on the web? (Thanks to the three of you who actually care.) First off, I intended to visit Melanie for a second time in L.A. on 28 June but was affected by weather. After fully loading a plane in Providence, RI, we sat at the gate for 3 hours before flying to Phoenix and then to L.A. I was up for 20 straight hours, got four hours of sleep, and then had to work the three legs back to Baltimore. Melanie and I did not see each other that night. We were both sad.

The month of July has been less than kind to me. My schedule was originally four days on, three off, which translated into not quite 2 in Missouri due to commuting time. This coincided with me trying to help Greg move out of his place and repack all my unboxed things so that all of it could live together in rental space darkness until October, when he will return from the Federal Law Enforcement Training Facility in Brunswick, GA. So, I packed, made more trips to Goodwill, evaluated, took photos of Charlie (Greg's boss) so wonderfully helping out with his extremely large truck and trailer, and was struck with the sheer number of times I've moved in the last 1.5 years: 4 total, and twice across the Mississippi River. Egads.

And while I'm at it, may I just tell you how my life works? I was trying to make it back to Cape Girardeau after a particularly hard 4-day trip that was scheduled to return to Baltimore in time for me to catch the last flight to St. Louis by 30 minutes. The one leg of 15 that was late was, of course, the critical one - the last. Luckily, the pilots called ahead to ascertain that my intended commuter flight was also delayed. As I waited eagerly at the front to run off (after my crewmates agreed to do my share of cleaning out of sheer kindness), I was greeted at the aircraft door by a nice lady holding a clipboard. She said she required of me a certain bodily substance which will remain nameless.

Also, I was bound to render said nameless substance a full terminal, two flights of stairs, one security checkpoint and two locked doors away from the gate out of which my flight to St. Louis was located. I mean, come on. We sprinted; I produced. Providentially, Kirstin, who so wonderfully recommended me for this job in the first place, was standing at the gate, waiting to board the same flight I was intending to take. She watched my bags and may or may not have physically prevented the flight from taking off without me.

Also, now that I have vacated Southeastern Missouri for over three months, what are they building? Did I mention come on?! I guess it is fair to say that civilization follows me; it was only after I returned to Chattanooga from Chapel Hill that we scored multiple free-standing Starbucks. I must also share with you this fascinating, glorified lawn ornament that is only blocks away from Greg's apartment. It was formerly a tree stump and is now a mini-homage to our nation's monument of liberty. Take it for what's it's worth; it is certainly less controversial that the one that stands in front of a Memphis mega-church that hoists a cross instead of a torch. Again, take it for what it's worth.

Since I have left you all so in the dark for such a long time, and since you are most likely no longer used to reading my prolonged ramblings, I will save the juicy info surrounding my friend Libby's wedding for a later, although quick-to-come post. There will be many photos accompanying it, don't worry. Tantalizing tidbit: the wedding will be front page news in the New York Times life and society section this month.

Really?

noreply@blogger.com (jennifer) — Wed, 27 Jun 2007 16:05:00 +0000

Liza is a celebrity!

I thought I'd just dump out a sampling of my brain right now. My mantra is not 'ohm,' or some self-encouraging statement; I consistently find myself saying, whether internally or audibly, "Really?" Life is just too weird on all fronts to go unquestioned.

There is a reason that I asked for, and received (thank you, Greg's family!), a digital camera for Christmas. OK, two reasons: one is that I refuse to succumb to popular thinking and utilize a person-to-person speaking device (read 'phone') as an image recording device (read 'camera'). Sure, it's handy, but I like to keep my electronica separate. Two is that I see and am amazed by/appalled at so many things these days, I simply must document and rave about them in such a forum as this.

The first photo is a truck that Greg and I saw on a recent trip to Memphis. The owner thereof, or a personage somehow connected to him/her, has so kindly explained the reason for the ridiculously lowered bed by writing in the dust on the back window. I expect that the owner has had no recent good luck drag racing, or he/she would have made a multitude of upgrades to this vehicle, or replaced it entirely.

Moving on. The item pictured above was recently discovered in the home of a man who is keeping his 19-year-old cats alive longer than nature intended. Who knew that such products existed, and who would really want to make use of them? My final and most pressing question is - did the marketing department of Pfizer Industries think that using a faux-French name made this concoction more acceptable or less gross? Come on.

I'm staying in Providence, Rhode Island, at the moment. As I was making coffee in the room, I discovered an interesting and uniquely compelling advertising technique. On the back of the sugar packets were picturesque scenes, complete with the no-nonsense marketing slogan, "Visit Scenic New England." Now if only these were available in, say, truck stops across the Mid-West, I'm sure people would flock here in droves. Alas, they seemed to be preaching to the choir.

Lastly, the boom of the spring was a book called 'The Secret.' I heard Oprah tell Larry King about it, heard that friends of friends were reading it, even saw an article in People saying how it had changed lives. It's mantra? "Ask, believe, receive." According to the author, who is pictured above, one must think positive thoughts to will goodness and prosperity into being. My thoughts? She should definitely ask for, and hopefully receive, some fashion and cosmetic surgical advice. Unless she's claiming to have recently returned from the underworld to write her book, I cannot take her seriously.

View from the Top

noreply@blogger.com (jennifer) — Sat, 16 Jun 2007 17:12:00 +0000

I just watched the movie of the same name and it made my job seem so glamorous! Unfortunately, the only flying I've been doing in the last three weeks has been in a passenger seat, looking like a poser - in uniform, but reading a magazine. Still, they pay me to do this, so I'm not complaining.

Since my last six-day reserve block, Greg and I 'did' the Baltimore/D.C. area for a fun, whirlwind weekend. On Friday, at Baltimore's Inner Harbor, we visited the U.S.S. Constellation, a working replica of the last all-sail naval vessel, and one that was used to hunt down slaving ships. I will say that it is true to history, as I hit my head not once, not twice, but three times on the low support beams. People of yore were mighty short. Also, one's peripheral vision is somewhat obscured when wearing a hat with a brim. We also toured the World War II submarine U.S.S. Torsk, which sunk the last German vessel of the war. You and 29 friends can spend the night aboard for the low, low price of $900 if you wish to subject yourself to inhumanely small bunks and no working toilets (that I saw; I could be wrong). It was also quite warm. Here is Greg, trying unsuccessfully to gain entrance to a side door at the National Archives. That was the theme of the day; since it was a Saturday, all the fun stuff was packed or closed, and the gaggles of children woefully under-chaperoned made even navigating the sidewalks difficult.

That night, we dined on Kobe beef steak at Ruth's Chris Steakhouse in Arlington, overlooking the Reagan International Airport and pretending to be much more important than we actually are. I always remind myself when visiting such places that rich people are not always well mannered or well dressed (Pretty Woman, anyone?) and that as long as I am polite, I need not feel out of place. Sunday, we toured the Fairfax IKEA (sidenote: it was pretty much the same as the IKEAs we've visited in in Burbank, Chicago, Dallas, and Atlanta. Nevertheless, Greg intends to personally investigate every one in the continental U.S.) and had Baja Fresh! Thanks to Greg's former co-worker Brian and his wife Tracy for hosting us and sharing their Metro passes. Speaking of the Metro, I was a bit unsettled at an ad campaign I noticed. Pictured at left is one of many signs I saw; it is a thinly-veiled attempt to encourage people to have inflatable bicycles in their metro-satchels in the inevitable event of another 9/11. As I prefer to ignore future disasters, this did not appeal to me.

On a lighter note, pictured below is Greg's boss Charlie, who has a Harley. Comin' atcha fast!

I'm still sitting in Baltimore, now having fulfilled my monthly requirement (5) of sitting in the airport lounge for five consecutive hours and then returning to my crashpad to unpack again. What does everyone else have planned for their summers?

All This Time

noreply@blogger.com (jennifer) — Wed, 06 Jun 2007 15:19:00 +0000

Someone please buy me this t-shirt. I'm sure if I had paid more attention in twelfth-grade calculus with the wonderful Mrs. Wayland, I would understand the algorithmic process that dictates the manner in which reserve crew members are called to work a trip, sit at the airport in hopes of a no show/sick person/delayed flight, or are not contacted at all. Alas, I am utterly baffled at having been on call for nearly a week and having received no assignments.

In response to Liza's question, I pull out the entire bag of Oreos and begin dipping them into my 2% milk by halves, then quarters, until the milk is gone. My stomach protests in the morning, so I salve it with oatmeal. And Lyd, HAPPY ANNIVERSARY a few days late and HAPPY BIRTHDAY a few days later than that. I am a terrible friend who has packed up my all-knowing calendar so much in the last year that important dates are biting me from behind, and they hurt. My apologies to all my peeps.

It's the last day of my six-day block of reserve; I have sat at the airport until closing time (between 10 and 10.30) on four different evenings, which is only one less than my contractual obligation for the entire month. Let me clarify, however, that I am not annoyed/disillusioned/angry. I am very thankful to have a job.

Might I recommend to the world in general that you (and I mean YOU) should watch every short movie in the Thumb series by Steve Oedekerk? Most of them are searchable on YouTube or Google Video, but for quick reference, I've posted Bat Thumb below. It is about 28 minutes long, but you'll not want to stop once you start!

Waiting...

noreply@blogger.com (jennifer) — Sat, 02 Jun 2007 01:25:00 +0000

I have eaten more Oreos in the last 24 hours than I care to admit; I must learn that my new job is not a weird extended vacation during which I can behave immaturely with no regard for my health or well-being.

Upon arriving in Baltimore yesterday evening, I walked nearly a mile to the farmer's market to purchase a cantaloupe for a fellow commuter. As I did left bicep curls using said melon upon walking back, I passed an early-90's model Ford Escort hatchback that was utilizing The Club in a lovely shade of camouflage. Did the owner think this made his anti-theft device invisible? That would seem to defeat its purpose altogether.

I also passed a church preschool sign that was written in those kid-like letters, a la those For Dummies books. It made me think for a second that it read instead 'Preschool for Dummies' and I wondered how many parents would sign their kids up for such a thing.

My yesterday:
6.30 a.m. - wake up, pack, and drive to St. Louis.
10.45 a.m. - arrive at gate to learn that the last jumpseat on the plane had been taken only minutes before; immediately secure the last available jumpseat on a flight to Chicago.
12.00 p.m. - arrive Chicago, get sandwich from Potbelly, board flight to Baltimore.
4ish p.m. - arrive Baltimore, talk to multiple classmates in the crew lounge, catch train to crashpad.
6 p.m. - walk to farmer's market, have illuminating, hilarious revelations chronicled above.
10 p.m. - get in bed anticipating a 3 a.m. wake-up call from crew scheduling.

My today (first day of Ready Reserve, a 24-hour on-call schedule):
9.30 a.m. - awaken, glad that it was natural and not via ringer.
9.31 a.m. until 3.30 p.m. - sit around crashpad eliminating spam from inbox, eating too much (including Oreos) and watching back-to-back episodes of True Hollywood Stories on E!
while battling intense feelings of self-loathing for not being 'productive.'
3.30 p.m. - receive call from crew scheduling requesting that I sit airport standby; dress and schlep all my stuff to train; sit in lounge until 10.30. Watch Outbreak with fellow crew, update blog.

I keep reminding myself that I am getting paid to sit around and do 'nothing' and am therefore still a contributing member of society. I just hope no one finds out...

I Get Around

noreply@blogger.com (jennifer) — Mon, 28 May 2007 22:13:00 +0000

Ahhh, the Motor City. Somehow my life of late has become tangled up in Detroit. I recently dubbed it the new Pinnacle of Civilization in my humble experience, and on this Memorial Day weekend, I landed there not once, but twice (Thursday, as a ground stop on my way to work in Baltimore, Saturday as an overnight). Ahhh, commuting 889 miles...

Last weekend, I had the good fortune of staying the night in the City of Angels. Melanie and I, who both have four-year degrees, met our match in the time-delay setting on both of our cameras. Behold, the technological genius of our combined intelligences!

Also, my crew was beyond fun – Donald was the true Spirit of Southwest, singing show tunes with SWA themes (including 'Crazy for Loving You' and 'There's No Business Like Show Business'), and Penny showed me the SWASpa, which is a blend of sugar and lemon exfoliant rinsed with sparkling water, that left my hands feeling baby-soft.

I was in Salt Lake City Friday night; I resisted any advances by already-married men.

Random Observations: The song by Creedence Clearwater Revival, Bad Moon Rising, is deceptively perky. It came on the radio as I drove back from St. Louis last week and I found myself dancing in my seat and singing along to the major key and catchy rhythm. Then I remembered that the song is apocolyptic in nature. Also, Coke has now come out with Diet Coke Plus, a rainbow-painted can of caffeine sans sugar with 'nutrients.' A soft drink with added vitamins? There are so many ways in which this is wrong, I don't know where to start. It is as bad as carbonated milk. Can our society not just eat regular, healthy foods? Good grief. Last week, I got entirely through my emergency demo (seat belt, info card, life vest, and oxygen mask) when, upon walking to the back to sit down, a passenger stopped me and pointed to my belt. It had been completely undone the whole time. Good thing my fly was zipped up and that I have no pride anyway. I thanked him, and would have comped his alcohol had he ordered any.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY GREG!!!

noreply@blogger.com (jennifer) — Fri, 25 May 2007 20:50:00 +0000

Commuting 889 miles

noreply@blogger.com (jennifer) — Sat, 19 May 2007 21:00:00 +0000

As I sit in the lounge, being consistently ostracized for arriving three hours early, I reflect.

In the last two weeks, I have been in Missouri for 4.5 days. My cat is less than enthused, and Greg has this photographic evidence that she may begin loving him more than me; she has recently gone over to the dark side and joined his two dogs on his lap. Before going to the grocery store (see complaint-laden short story below), I took a full 20 minutes to get dressed. I guess I was so excited to be wearing not cotton/poly-blend pants and a navy sweater vest, I just couldn't waste the opportunity to prove to the general public that I have a personal sense of fashion. Also, I find myself constantly asking the question, silently or to others, "What day is it?" The actual day no longer matters to me, just the number corresponding to the day and the number on my next scheduled check-in in Baltimore.

**Whining Alert!!** On my one full day off this week, I went to the grocery store to replenish my snack food store for this trip. Enjoying the first homemade, french vanilla syrup-filled cup of coffee I'd had in 9 days, I carried it with me on my excursion in my favorite purple travel tumbler. In the parking lot, I noticed two shopping carts un-corralled and dangerous (Greg's car still has a dent from a Target cart gone astray nearly a year ago). Thinking that I'd do a service to society, I pushed them together to relocate. In so doing, my mug, which I'd placed in the child-seat portion of the cart, fell out the leg hole. It cracked on the pavement, ruining my favorite purple mug and spilling my precious liquid cargo all over the unholy ground. Anyone have a recommendation on a replacement non-spill, unbreakable travel mug?

More soon.

Life in the Troposphere

noreply@blogger.com (jennifer) — Sun, 13 May 2007 19:46:00 +0000

I'm in Detroit. I am considering a temporary transfer of the moniker 'Pinnacle of Civilization' from Cape Girardeau as a fitting bestowal...the view from my fifth-floor hotel room included an empty parking lot, a trailer without a big rig, and an airport extended-stay parking lot. Oh, and a large television dish antenna. The airport is decidedly like a trailer park, according to a fellow crew member. It seems to have been constructed piecemeal by a number of 5-year-old architects; the result is a different interior design every 100-200 feet, including various window shapes/sizes, corridor widths, and carpet color. It is actually depressing.

On a lighter note, my hotel room did have a large, wall-hung flat screen TV, microwave, and cold refrigerator! Unfortunately, I was immediately adjacent to the elevators and there was extremely loud construction on a lower floor. I still slept until noon (after getting to bed at 2 a.m. local). My life now exists in two time zones: Central and local. My watch and schedule are the former, my cell phone and bedside clock, the latter. It is not uncommon for me to ask the hotel shuttle driver, “What time zone are we in now?” A classmate of mine has twice gotten up two hours earlier than necessary due to the schedule/local difference, which is less than exciting due to her 5 a.m. check-in times.

I spent some time in the cockpit on longer, lighter flights. Pictured at right are the first officer (in silhouette) and the captain (who got a surprising flash in the eye) demonstrating for me the heads-up feature of the plane. After that 10,000 feet announcement (after which you are able to use your electronic devices), these guys pretty much just enjoy the view, talk to one another, and listen to tunes or other pilots/air traffic controllers on their headsets.

Tidbits: I get discounts, ranging from 10% to 50%, on airport and hotel food. The markup in these particular places, however, is usually 40-70% of the real-world cost of the items. Ah, the price of being a traveling prisoner. The Boeing 737, fully loaded and at a high altitude (such as Denver or Las Vegas) travels up to 180 mph on the ground immediately before takeoff. According to the pilot with whom I discussed these details, even if one engine failed during takeoff, the plane would still be functional enough to fly. Also, a bird accidentally ingested by the engine would not be a problem; in fact, he told me of a gruesome unplanned ground incident involving a much larger mammal that was 'taken care of' by the engine without the pilots even knowing. Eeek, but it puts me more at ease. I have come to very much enjoy the Kashi brand, especially the oatmeal, granola bars, and protein bars. My recent cookies and cream protein bar included these obviously healthy ingredients: pear juice concentrate and chicory root fiber. What's not to love?

You can see that I do not exceed the weight limit of the overhead bin. This is me awaiting boarding on the last flight of my last trip, a 2.5 hour flight to Baltimore from Ft. Lauderdale with a grand total of 14 passengers. The other female flight attendant and I were in opposite bins, while our male crew member directed boarding passengers to put their bags into our bins. Hilarity ensued. I get paid to do this, people.

FlyGirl

noreply@blogger.com (jennifer) — Sat, 12 May 2007 16:40:00 +0000

I'm launching a contest with myself to see how long I can sustain cutsie blog titles that pertain to my job.

Word of the day:

sprachgefuhl

Thank you to Howell for using it to describe me; it is not Yiddish.

My second trip was easy enough; another crew member had picked it up because it was 'like a vacation,' and indeed it was, with only 7 legs in three days. On our stopover in Albany, the hotel lost power while I was eating chili in the bar (sipping water oh-so-glamorously out of a plastic cup, mind you). The half-drunk firefighter fraternity that took up all the other chairs immediately began yelling obscenities at one another across the room. 30 minutes later, after the emergency lights had gone out and the bartenders had resorted to tea lights and cutting everyone off, I used my cell phone to illuminate the five floor stair climb to my room and hit the sack.

I have two days off between trips this week and am forced to stay in Baltimore due to the half-day it takes to commute to/from Cape Girardeau. I'm not sure who misses me more: Greg or Torri. She is evidently acting out no end.

Yesterday, I lunched with a training classmate, Jenny, then had a nice afternoon visiting with Libby, a friend from high school. She is an accomplished violinist who teaches 4-year-olds at the Peabody Conservatory. While riding with her downtown, I feared for my life. I will not comment further, but will post a photo. I love you, Libby!

I ate seven Oreos before bed last night and I am not ashamed. I earned every last crumb by trying valiantly to find the local Food Lion in my new neighborhood-away-from-neighborhood. Someone had given me the detailed directions, "Go past the firehall, take the first right, then the first left, and zigzag a bit." I spoke on the phone with my Polkton-Grandma Margaret for 30 minutes while hiking past well maintained yards in a middle income subdivision, past a Parish school, up, down, and all around, until I hit a four-lane highway near an entrance ramp to 695. The water in my mini-Nalgene was diminishing and Grandma was fearing for my safety (and intelligence, probably). I followed her advice and returned from whence I came by making a big circle (I'm not directionally challenged, I promise). Thankfully, a crashpad mate with a car had arrived while I trudged, and together we drove to the store. Turns out, I was only blocks away without knowing in what direction to go.

Here are my new digs: the house as seen from the street and my bed. I am still gathering and assimilating information pertaining to this new lifestyle. By next month, I should have the opportunity to make my schedule more like one week on, one week off to better accommodate my commuter reality. The switch from the anti-nausea patch to ginger pills is also coming, and I'll be sure to report the details to you as soon as they are available.

Maiden Voyage

noreply@blogger.com (jennifer) — Sun, 06 May 2007 15:55:00 +0000

Ahh, the life I have chosen to lead...

Tuesday, 1 p.m. - 2-hour drive to St. Louis.
4.30 p.m. - set to preboard flight to Baltimore. One working flight attendant rushed out the gate and asked if I would do a jetway trade with her (where two flight attendants trade shifts on the spot). I said I would (what else was I going to say? “I haven't reviewed my manual sufficiently,” is not a good excuse for the inflight training valedictorian.) Turns out she didn't need me after all, but it gave me a good scare.
8.30 p.m. - arrive Baltimore, meet landlord and crashpad-mates.
11.15 p.m. - bedtime.

Wednesday, 12.30 p.m. - hang at the SW crew lounge at the airport to get a feel for it.
3.30 p.m. - meet Regina and Kevin, my crew, at the gate and board.
3.50 p.m. - advised by captain that there is a fire; crew deplanes.
4.10 p.m. - hear that a baggage conveyor belt caught fire, no serious damage to persons or property but 7 or so fire trucks came (see photo). Apologize to crew for bringing 'beginners luck' to the trip.
4.30 p.m. - depart Baltimore; get ribbing from passengers for wearing nausea patch behind ear and anti-queasy bracelets; reply that it's better than vomiting in their drinks. (OK, I didn't really say that, but thought about it.)
Thursday, 1 a.m. - bedtime, two hours late.

Thursday, 10 a.m. - Wake up in time to miss continental breakfast. Price of milk off the room service menu? $1.95. Used tap water to make my Kashi instant oatmeal; BLAND!
2 p.m. - arrive at airport and board all 97 passengers before the captain informs us all of a hydraulic fluid leak and bad weather in Houston, our destination. Wait nearly an hour at the gate before pushback. Unable to serve passengers drinks or snack in flight because of turbulence.
5 p.m. - Arrive Houston but miss our connection to Long Island; wait in airport for four hours. Struggle to order an iced mocha with vanilla. Me: “Iced mocha with vanilla flavor, please.” Server: “Vanilla mocha?” Me: “No, chocolate mocha, just add vanilla.” Server: “Frappuccino?” Me: “Regular mocha with vanilla syrup.” Other server: “Hot mocha?” Me: “Mocha, with ice and vanilla syrup.” First Server: “That's a frappuccino.” Second Server: “No, frappuccino has crushed ice, this has regular ice.” First Server: “It's not hot?” This went on ad nauseam, but you get the picture. Not surprisingly, the mocha was terrible.
9 p.m. - board flight to Chicago, but as passengers (deadheading), not crew.
11.53 p.m. - Arrive Chicago; realize that I only had about 20 minutes of actual work the entire day.
Friday, 1 a.m. - bedtime.

Friday, 9.30 a.m. - wake to alarm so as not to miss breakfast.
2 p.m. - board flight and deadhead to Baltimore in order to catch up with the trip to Raleigh we were supposed to work. Read magazines for entertainment.
4 p.m. - arrive Baltimore, eat various leftovers from my cooler, sample Body Shop hand cream, curse the universe for charging $8/day for Internet in the terminal.
7.30 p.m. - board flight to Raleigh, 50 minutes air time. Land in Raleigh, deplane passengers, bring on other passengers, fly back to Baltimore.
10 p.m. - arrive Baltimore, catch cab to crashpad.

Saturday, 8.30 a.m. - rise, pack, don uniform for fifth day in a row, buy one-way train fare and receive $7-worth of gold coins as change, take train to terminal.
11.00 a.m. - board flight to St. Louis
12.00 p.m. - arrive St. Louis, run into an inflight classmate at Starbucks, enjoy correctly made iced mocha with vanilla.
12.15 p.m. - pay $72 to retrieve vehicle from short-term parking, again cursing the universe.
2.45 p.m. - arrive Cape Girardeau, search health food store for 30 minutes wondering why employees are singing along with radio quite loudly; purchase ginger pills to "support digestive function, maintain healthy gut flora, aid in the digestion of dietary fats, and calm/soothe the digestive tract" during my next trip. This must be the PC/granola way of saying "prevent nausea and vomiting." I'll let you know, especially about the gut flora. I hope it doesn't promote fauna too, because that would just be weird.
3.15 p.m. - reintroduce myself to Torri.

Unfortunately, there were no written tests during my whole trip, so I could not prove my mettle as a superior test-taker. However, I managed to completely avoid any hint of nausea, which is far more advantageous in this line of work. Thanks for your concern! At least this wasn't me...

Barbie Boot Camp

noreply@blogger.com (jennifer) — Fri, 27 Apr 2007 04:10:00 +0000

**Disclaimer: this post is ridiculously long and incredibly detailed. Begin reading at your own risk of time mismanagement.**

This is my diary of Inflight Training in Dallas, Texas; 3 weeks and two days total. For the abbreviated version, go here.

Week 1:

1 April, Sunday - I woke before my 7 a.m. alarm, understandably excited. I chose to wear a jersey-knit skirt and bright orange t-shirt that states 'I sing in my car.' Greg questioned my wardrobe sense, but I dismissed him entirely, citing the fact I was wearing a skirt. Mom, are you listening? We left Greg's place around 9.30, with me memorizing the last of my required information on the trip to St. Louis. We arrived at the airport in plenty of time, but my somewhat overstuffed refrigerator-sized suitcase was 1.5 pounds over the limit, so I had to exit the line and unzip both my rolling bags in order to shift the weight. 10 minutes later, I got back in line and checked my 86.5 pounds of stuff to Dallas. Greg and I split a $7 sandwich at Starbucks, which was the only food on the non-ticket holder side of security. The lettuce was a bit limp, in my opinion.

I said goodbye to Greg and waited in the security line, watching with amusement a woman in skin-tight jeans and 3-inch heel, knee-high boots try to remove them to go through the checkpoint. The flight was nearly full, but I scored a third-row window seat. The takeoff and initial ascent were bumpier than is comfortable, but we landed safely less than two hours later. The lady beside me had the worst smoker's breath I've ever encountered over a prolonged period.

The luggage was off-loaded, but onto which conveyor, they told us not. I walked back and forth between three for about 15 minutes before seeing my two bags. Caty and Ryan were a bit late picking me up, but no problem at all - I enjoyed the beautiful Texas sun while trying to relay information to my parents via phone with Boeing 737s landing on the runway directly beside me.

We drove past innumerable exotic dance clubs with very distinctive names, as well as a Diaper World. I wasn't quick enough with the camera, unfortunately. Upon entering the hotel lobby, I was at first dismayed to think I had gotten mixed up in an adult cheer leading convention; not so, it was merely my future co-workers who had all decided not to wear jersey skirts, orange t-shirts, or go without makeup on a travel day. Good thing I didn't care. I checked in, dropped my luggage in the room, was delighted to find a mini-fridge and microwave (since we had been lead to believe there would be neither) and went to the local supermarket for cheap eats!

5 Lean Cuisines, 1 quart of half-and-half, and some apples and bananas later, we three stopped by a Mediterranean bistro for a last meal of sorts. I heard all about Caty's job at a local church, and Ryan's masters program, and had lots of vegetables. And lamb kabobs. Back at the hotel at around 8.35, I was unsettled to find my roommate's luggage, complete with a fairly large shoe on the ground. After mulling it over, I thought to look at the airline tags. They read 'Josh.' I was sure there was a mistake; after checking with the front desk, I was assured there was no mistake. As Josh walked into the room, proclaiming, "You're not a guy," I was confirmed in my knowledge that this would be a trip just like all the rest.

Josh and I parted ways 30 minutes later after I was assigned a room on the floor below. Cassie, who is a girl, is now my roomie. See photo. The bad thing about Josh's room was that the 'view' was of the building's air conditioning unit. The bad thing about my new room was that it had no fridge or microwave, and I now had 5 frozen dinners and dairy products. Also, the window overlooks the hotel lobby, and affords no natural light whatsoever. I asked the front desk about the fridge and microwave, was told both were on their way, was glad when a microwave was delivered, but disappointed to glean from the incredibly broken English of the delivery lady that there were no more fridges. Good thing I had made friends with Emily before leaving Josh; I parked my foodstuffs in her fridge overnight. I was therefore up until 11, bloodshot eyes and all. I did not iron my clothes or unpack.

Monday - Wake up? 6 a.m. Cara is not impressed. Breakfast: 7 a.m. After sitting down to eggs and bacon, I noticed a mass exodus from the restaurant as word spread that the shuttles had arrived. I shoved the protein in my mouth while simultaneously fixing some terrible coffee to ward off the mid-morning headache. I spilt some on my leg, but was thankful for my black washable pants. It dried quickly.

Arriving at headquarters was astounding. The inflight instructors met us at the door, escorted us upstairs and down a long hallway filled with people from all the departments cheering us on as we walked by. This is why I want to work for this company - because it is a family, all 31,000+ people. I got to meet Kris, the lady who coached me through my interview; she came from her office to see me specifically, and then told me that my advocate in the Chicago office had called her this morning to remind her that I'd be here. Heartwarming.

We had to introduce ourselves to the group, all 136 of us, in three bullet points or less. That was easy. We had a good, free lunch in the cafeteria. There is also a Starbucks on the premises, which I avoided, seeing as I won't get a paycheck until successful completion of the course. We took the test on our material after lunch, which they had said in our info packet would be tomorrow. I made a 100, but a few failed. Sad. My roommate also scored a 100; we will establish the SWA Dean's List, I suppose.

Tonight, I go to bed early due to light homework. I have ironed all my clothes, stocked the mini-mini-fridge that was delivered this afternoon, though it is disappointingly smaller than the one in Josh's room, and showered, pursuant to the appearance standards in the handbook we received today.

I passed the first exam, and the 10 minutes worth of verbatim recitation test won't be for another two weeks, and I'm feeling OK in Texas. Welcome aboard my life! Congrats if you made it this far.

Tuesday, they filled us in on all of the benefits for working at SW...profit sharing, great medical, etc. Then they started in on the academics and made us work for it. But not until Wednesday afternoon, because Wednesday morning, we got fitted for uniforms (my arms were too long to fit in the long-sleeved button-up tops and blazers; I'm stuck in a v-neck sweater and men's pants) and got a makeover. I resisted the temptation to buy the $55 foundation. That afternoon, we learned all about the Boeing 737 (four hours of lecture). Thursday, we were tested on the Boeing 737 at 7 a.m. I made a 100. Thursday afternoon, we learned about flight attendant duties (4 hours of lecture). Friday morning, we were tested on flight attendant duties. I made a 100. Friday, we had two sessions of lecture on customer contact ( 6.5 hours). I learned that 'service animals' include not only dogs, but pigs, cats, birds and monkeys. SW does not accept rodents, insects, or reptiles (with the exception of turtles, of course). Said animal must be trained, not in training. We also had an Easter egg hunt. Saturday morning at 8.30, we boarded a bus to visit a Boeing 737-300 up close and personal for 2 hours. In the snow. No kidding; it was 34 degrees and flurrying - see photo.

Saturday afternoon, my friends Caty and Ryan (friend from GPS and husband newly relocated to Ft. Worth) picked me up at the hotel. We ran many errands, saw the fancy-schmancy part of Dallas, saw a herd of cattle driven down Main Street at the Ft. Worth Stockyards, and had a generally good time. Sunday morning, we attended services at Ft. Worth Presbyterian, then ate a wonderful homemade meal. I returned to the hotel and was in bed by 9.

Week 2:

Monday, we were tested on customer contact. I made a 100. Then, we heard encouragement from Colleen Barrett, the President of SW, and later, from Herb Kelleher, one of the two founders and current Chairman of the Board. Not bad for a 30,000+ person company.

Incidentals: I'm popping vitamins like a veritable homeopathic; I'll tell you if the combo of Centrum, B-12, Airborne and ginko is a winner. If nothing else, I'm gaining substantial muscle mass. They feed us every day at headquarters; it's like college - they have 101 ways to fix chicken, no kidding. I'm definitely gaining something, let me tell you. People watching is my favorite. There are representatives of all walks of life in our group - a retired cop, a number of grandmothers, a working stunt-woman (she has been on 24, among other shows and movies), a man who looks like he could be a pro footballer, and I could go on. Two guys in particular always catch my attention due to the fact that they dress alike every day. The first day: pink shirts and green ties. Second day: white shirts and pastel ties. Third day: yellow shirts. Today: grey shirts and pants. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I've also met a conspiracy theorist who believes 9-11 to have been some sort of government cover-up, solemnly citing 'the Internet' and Rosie O'Donnell as his sources. We've lost about 20-25 people for academic reasons, inability to comfortably fit into standard-size uniforms, failing two tests, coming back late from breaks, or being 'height/weight disproportionate.' One curly-headed classmate was told not to wear her hair straight anymore until having it trimmed. This is the real thing, people.

Tuesday began our week-long foray into the emergency procedures and equipment that we all hope to never use. Tuesday afternoon, we all jumped out of 'Poolie' using an escape slide. Poolie is the 737 trainer we use; it is about one-third the length of a real fuselage and came to the inflight building to retire. All parts of it still function exactly like a real plane because it was, in fact, a real plane. Attached are photos to help you understand. That's me in the green vest. Wednesday, we got to use both water and halon fire extinguishers, put on smoke hoods that closely resemble Martians out of 1950's era movies, and play with those life vests that you always hear about being under your seat cushion, which may also be used as a flotation device.

Thursday and Friday were the doozies. We began Thursday (my smaller group of 30 or so) by boarding Poolie at 8 am. We then proceeded to evacuate Poolie for nearly 5 hours in what was our 'Unplanned Emergency' evacuation proficiency test. That meant that every person in our group had as many as 4 turns in each one of three positions: two at the front or one at the rear of the cabin. Then, everyone shouted this script very loudly, not always in unison:
HEADS DOWN, STAY DOWN
RELEASE SEAT BELTS
COME THIS WAY
THIS WAY OUT
LEAVE EVERYTHING
CROSS YOUR ARMS; JUMP
or
STEP OUT
and possibly
GET OUT OF MY WAY
COVER YOUR NOSE AND MOUTH
STAY BELOW THE SMOKE

while also trying to correctly open one or two doors and a 50-pound over-wing window. One lady didn't turn her head as she opened the window and bloodied her nose. Luckily, I did not. I heard these phrases no less than 3 million times that morning; it was quite intense. Some people did not pass and must retake the proficiency on Monday. I went to sleep Thursday night telling myself to keep my head down and cross my arms while jumping.

Friday was no better, as we moved to the Planned Emergency proficiency, which included briefing fellow students as if they were regular Joes and Janes and needed to help in an emergency landing. We did this for 3.5 hours in 5 groups of 3, then were called back into the room as a group to be critiqued. The hallway outside the room was like a funeral parlor, since nearly half of the entire class did not pass this proficiency.

They also sent a nice lady to tell us about the company's zero tolerance drug and alcohol policy. I learned a number of things during her talk, the most interesting being that flight attendants must not have alcohol of any form on their person or in their luggage while on duty, including Listerine or pocket breath spritzers containing alcohol in even the most minute of amounts.

Also, during a rapid loss of cabin pressure (defined as depressurization in between 3-10 seconds, since 10 seconds or more is 'slow'), useful consciousness could only last 6 seconds. That's why you're always supposed to put on YOUR mask before you put on Junior's. I never knew that.

Friday night, as I tried in vain to wind down from two insanely stressful days by talking on the phone to long-lost loved ones, I stood in a hallway downstairs by a window since my room remains constant in its artificial light levels. I was soon swept up by a marauding horde making for a large, mirror-lined ballroom, saying something about tornadoes. Sure enough, Caty called at that very moment to say that one was headed directly toward us. As I surveyed the chandeliers in the room, I called my dad to verify tornado etiquette. Liz, a fellow student, was doing the same thing, and our dads agreed: bathroom. So Liz, her half-full (or empty, depending on your world view) wine glass and I all ended up underneath the bathroom counter right next to the ballroom. We got to know each other fairly well during that half hour, during which the lights flickered numerous times but we were not killed by a tornado.

Saturday was a fun day spent with Caty and Ryan again, going to various shops and buying things I didn't necessarily need while serving as Caty's personal shopper. I must not fail to mention that on the interstate between Ft. Worth and Dallas is the TBN headquarters. Much to my dismay I did not see the woman with the pink hair. They have a strangely small model of the White House though... Sunday morning, I had the distinct privilege of donating 45 mL of a certain bodily fluid to confirm that I am not engaged in any illegal drug use. I spent a large portion of the afternoon by the pool reading up on the emergency chapter on which we will all be tested tomorrow; I can report that my first idiotic sunburn of the season is officially present and accounted for on my top left foot, right hand and lower arm and neck. It is 6 pm. and I am in my jammies, eating the dinner of champions: a serving of Goldfish and a Naked Juice Smoothie. Mom, don't worry; I had more than enough calories yesterday to tide me over for the next three days. Welcome to my world!!

Week 3:

Monday was rough. We boarded the buses at 6.30 a.m. First we demonstrated our ability to recite 10 minutes worth of announcements to passengers who will most likely not be paying attention, including how to turn on reading lights. Next we took our longest and most involved test over the emergency information we studied all last week. With those out of the way, we went on to learning about first aid for the rest of the day, with an interruption by Gary Kelly, the CEO. He was very amiable and willing to answer our questions in detail. We didn't leave until after 6, when we all looked very similar to zombies, although some more than others. Tuesday we focused on CPR for adults and children, learning to use the automatic defibrilator that is onboard each plane. There is also a headset that patches in to a Phoenix hospital emergency room for actual medical expertise if necessary. This is Jenny, April, and me with the strange robo-babies that we were expected to save; I was very put off by their mouths and body armor. I didn't feel very motivated to save the life of an inhuman form that looked as if it might try to take my place in 20 years, but I did anyway.

Wednesday was spent learning about security and was very sobering. We learned that post-9/11, the federally mandated priority of a flight attendant is to maintain the security of the flight deck at all times no matter what. Some ladies in our class who had worked for other airlines had a multitude of recommendations on items found onboard which would serve as excellent weapons - think coffee pot upside the head, oxygen bottle across the face, fire extinguisher to the gut and in the eyes. It does contain a freezing agent, after all. Thursday we FINALLY had an afternoon devoted to soda and peanuts! We talked about it, then served our classmates in a cabin mockup. I drank two cokes, one orange juice, and a water and was jacked up for the rest of the evening. On Friday we heard from an FAA employee who works specifically with SW. We learned that if a flight attendant does not have an up-to-date, correctly configured manual with him/her onboard, he/she can be fined $1100 on the spot, which is undesirable on many levels. That afternoon was a parade of representatives from various departments who imparted to us invaluable information which I will not recount as you do not care.

Friday night, we went to the Red River dance hall to two-step. Laurel, the most senior member of our class, asked me to dance. She is a very good lead, especially at waltzing. Later, she demonstrated her ability to ride mechanical bulls. I was beyond impressed. Saturday was boring since I was forced to study for our cumulative final on Monday. Sunday was OE (operating experience) time for me and half the class. 4 a.m.: wake up afraid that my alarm will not go off. 5 a.m.: wake up to alarm. 7 a.m.: catch bus. 8 a.m.: check into crew lounge at airport. 9 a.m.: board flight to Houston. 10.25 a.m.: work flight to Corpus Cristi, make a fool of myself trying to demonstrate safety features of aircraft, repeatedly point to huge button on my shoulder that reads 'Trainee, working for my wings.' 11.05 a.m.: work return flight to Houston, repeat foolish demonstration. 1 p.m.: work different flight to Nashville, puke on landing. 3 p.m.: work flight to Birmingham, puke on landing. 4 p.m.: work flight back to Dallas, puke after taking drink orders in forward cabin, luckily not in view of customers. Make a fool of myself trying to recite announcements with everyone's rapt attention; tell entire flight, "I'm new." 8 p.m.: catch shuttle back to hotel. 9 p.m.: attempt to eat dinner in a room that is pitching/rolling; give up. 9.45 p.m.: bed.

Week 4:

Monday was a challenge, but I passed my cumulative final while feeling as if I would rather be dead. We spent the rest of the day learning how to do very important things related to being employees. We also discussed our OEs. Only four people raised their hands in response to the question, "Who threw up yesterday?" I forgot to raise mine. The three wonderful crews who had taken care of me during the flights had said it was absolutely normal to be nauseous in the back of the plane and recommended getting certain medications. My parents and Greg arrived that evening and we had a wonderful steak dinner complete with complimentary chocolate cake in celebration of graduation! The velvety goodness made it all worth it.

Tuesday was graduation; I was valedictorian. Of the 136 people who began the class, only 91 graduated. I learned that of 10,000 applicants monthly, only 3,000 are interviewed and 100 are allowed to wait in line for a training class. This makes me proud. If you've made it to here, I'm also proud of you.

Ding!

noreply@blogger.com (jennifer) — Thu, 26 Apr 2007 05:44:00 +0000

I just worked on my latest post for 2 hours. Then my browser quit and I lost everything. Let these photos carry you through until Friday when I expect to publish my memoirs of training expressed in a veritable tome. Schedule reading time in advance.

BEFORE:

AFTER:

P.S. Those pants are a cotton/poly blend. Thanks for noticing!

News coming SOON...

noreply@blogger.com (jennifer) — Tue, 24 Apr 2007 05:27:00 +0000

...check back on Thursday...

What's Up?

noreply@blogger.com (jennifer) — Sun, 15 Apr 2007 18:56:00 +0000

Is it really April already? Where has the time gone, and where are my summer clothes? I still love my unexpected lifestyle, but wouldn't mind having a sort of routine that involved at least semi-permanent storage for my daily attire. But I work with what I have.

I have busied myself of late with a writing campaign of the snail-mail variety. I purchased two sheets of stamps a few weeks ago and upon signing the credit card receipt, was informed by the nice lady that the stamp rate will go up to 41 cents in May. If you haven't gotten a card from me recently, tell me that you want one and I might just make your day!

How about that news concerning Anna Nicole's baby daddy? Give it up for paternity testing! It was a one in a million shot, but Larry came out on top!

Does anyone like people watching as much as I do? I know I must appear to most acquaintances as a hermit, but I would much rather sit back and observe others than interact with them. Caty thinks I should get a counseling degree if the Old Navy thing doesn't work out. I try to discern what motivates them, and what their inner dialogue must sound like concerning the choices they make, such as wardrobe decisions. For instance, why do women wear 3-inch heels for airline travel? In my most recent airport experience, I watched a girl, about my height (5'11") struggle to remove her knee-high boots from under her skin-tight jeans so they could go through the security scanner. It took at least 3 minutes. My Chacos, on the other hand, came off in about 5 seconds. Sure, she looked better than me, but 95% of the time, that is the case. I willingly choose comfort over couture.

Anyway, leave me a message; I've been slow on emails lately and always love to see responses to my posts and know who's reading what I write. I'd love to have an idea of my target audience to better serve your reading and entertainment needs. Right now, though, I'm going to enjoy the sun.

Land of the Free, Home of the Breakfast Cereal Aisle

noreply@blogger.com (jennifer) — Wed, 28 Mar 2007 17:21:00 +0000

This morning, I drank hot coffee through a bendy straw. I succumbed to such ridiculous behavior because I am currently employing the teeth-whitening system of Crest Premium Plus strips. Not only are they actually making my teeth somewhat whiter, but they are making them sensitive. Hence, the straw decreases the discoloring effect the caffeine has on my choppers, and also sends the hot liquid straight to my tongue, so that it can experience roughly the same level of discomfort that my teeth already feel. A balanced mouth is a happy mouth, eh?

That brings me to my first point. Why are the strips Premium Plus? I mean, is this a marketing campaign for the egomaniac who thinks him- or herself just a bit too good for the plain old Premium strips, not to mention scoffing at the Classic strips? May it never be that my teeth have only the whiteness of the plebes!

Greg bought some AKC brand dog treats this weekend. They are Super Premium All Natural Gourmet Dog Biscuits. If they can help train his dogs to actually repeat that phrase 5 times fast, they're worth it. But my point is, dogs eat their own vomit. I have even seen a dog I know (who shall remain nameless) find what she must have thought to be 'hidden treasures' in my own cat's litter box. I am not kidding. Why do these creatures need gourmet anything?

My cat, on the other hand, totally deserves and fully appreciates her Fancy Feast Elegant Medleys white meat chicken and whipped egg souffle with garden greens. This is mainly because it came free in the 20-pound container of litter that I bought last week.

We were in a Cingular store only days ago, where Greg was trying to figure out what phone to buy. The options are endless; that is why I have spent no less than two hours in the past two weeks sitting in the car, in the parking lot, waiting while he shops. A phone can now take photos, play music, calculate your restaurant tip, check your email, transfer your documents, and store movies for you to watch, all with the press of a button on the display screen using an infinitesimally small stylus, which handily fits in a compartment on the back of the phone. The problem is, if you have a manual transmission instead of a chauffeur, you are unable to utilize any of these functions, much less access the 'phone' feature of the phone. That's why Greg is on a first-name basis with the sales staff. My phone, I'm proud to say, is just a phone. It does not flip, click, store, show, check, or anything except act as a person-to-person speaking device.

This is America, I guess. We don't want to have a credit card; we want to have the executive platinum all-access 0% points and cash rewards card. We want to be able to buy a street legal 1183 hp car that goes 286 miles per hour, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the Autobahn is not within driving distance (though if it were, it would only be an 18.5 hour trip). We want to order coffee drinks that have so many adjectives preceding their names that one must practice at home before attempting to place an order in the coffee shop.

I pontificate; forgive me. All the hot air rushing out of my mouth is irritating my teeth.