Another Passport Stamp

Overheard in the Galley

noreply@blogger.com (Heather) — Thu, 10 Nov 2011 09:53:00 +0000

Random Flight Attendant: Does anyone want some chlamydias?
Rest of the crew : WHAT?!?!?!
Random Flight Attendant: Oh, I think I meant to say clementines...

And I'm back !!

A Little Family Stuff

noreply@blogger.com (Heather) — Wed, 10 Aug 2011 12:19:00 +0000

Sorry for the blog languishing. 'BoyWhoFlies' has a father dying of leukemia so we are in France trying to take care of things. Photos and stories of Brittany as well as crazy pilots coming soon. Thanks for your patience!

The Kaiser

noreply@blogger.com (Heather) — Fri, 15 Apr 2011 20:55:00 +0000

Sometimes people in our profession get a little 'colorful' the longer they fly. Maybe it is all that time trapped in a confined space, maybe it is the lack of consistent coworkers who know you well enough to pull your mental kite back to earth, or maybe we just encourage the general nuttiness of others we work with because, frankly, it is fun to watch. I have flown with a pilot who covers himself in linen to protect from radiation, flight attendants who beleive in elves and gnomes ( yes seriously) and people whose imagined past and present could not possibly be accomplished in their years on earth .

I recently flew with one of these colorful types, she was an 'extra' which means she is a random flight attendant working with us who is not based where the bulk of the crew is. When she lumbered into briefing, she looked as if she had been walking 20 miles, or dragged behind a train. This was the start of her day, at a not particularly early hour, even for her time zone. She was, of course the most senior... which meant she worked mostly alone in first class.

Her name was Swedish, and close enough in sound to Kaiser that our purser had named her that before we took off. She ate enough cocktail nuts during boarding that I heard her remark, "Well that saves us offering seconds to the passengers". Translation, she ate a whole metal tin of nuts, the size of a paperback book. Her balloonlike proportions and puffiness began to make sense. She continued to eat whatever was not nailed down, all while the rest of us were racing around hanging coats, offering newspapers and drinks to everyone.

I was sitting on the jumpseat next to her for takeoff, and of course due to the weather the captain asked us to stay seated until he called us. She had a captive audience... Some people in our job have a tendency to overshare far to soon, personal details and secrets with people who really don't want to know or care. Before the captain released me from my captivity I was regaled with how she had sold her home because there was a sinkhole on the property, evicted from her rental condo and was now living with her 30 year old unemployed daughter in the basement of a friend who is alcoholic, weights 350 pounds and had 4 cats, one of which poops everywhere. She felt her explosive diarrhea of the past seven days was related to the poopy cat. Did I mention I was seated a foot from she of the loose bowels?? I would have chewed through the jumpseat harness if I thought I could have escaped.

Later on in the flight she shared how she had formerly flown for Pan Am, and had been based in Honolulu. She felt that was when, by her own admission, she started to become eccentric. The purser remarked she must have been based there a very long time..We also learned she had been the person who qualified the Pan Am crew in Swedish ( gave them the test to assure they were fluent in that language, and could make announcements onboard), was trained as a surgeon, and owned a restaurant that had burned down. Well, her surgical experience was actually medical school, and even that was up for debate.

She mostly flew trips to China and Japan . She told us her layovers in Tokyo consisted of eating carrots, and that she was going to Fukushima to write a paper on the effects of radiation on civilians nearby. Good thing she had that background in surgery...She never made clear why she would only eat carrots there, the answer would have probably not cleared it up in any case.

Her layovers in China were spent shopping an average of 400 dollars per week on 'all sorts of junk' for her kids and friends. She also told us she got her hair done there, at which point the acerbic purser asked if it had been a long time since she had had a Beijing trip? Again the surgery came into play as she mentioned she had a Chinese doctor, who, when she drew a picture of her body and circled what ailed her, he would remove that body part. Yes, surgery real or imagined on the layover. Based on her size, she was not drawing pictures of unwanted jiggly thighs.

She said she had been as skinny as a rail until last year when the cortisone shots have her "all this" ( gestures my lifting up and shaking her belly fat). I am sure the constant eating was just a coincidence.

The Kaiser asked us why her bank was not paying her interest on the part of her savings account she had withdrawn. I really had no idea how to answer that one, but her fiscal sensibility or lack of became obvious when she said she was moving back to Sweden as they had the lowest taxes in the world.

She also shared her relationship past, presumable when she had a better fighting form that she did now. She swore she had dated Bill Cosby, and he could not accept when she broke up with him. That was when she had to flee Hawaii. She them married a stalker, who she is now on friendly terms with.

Kaiser ate any crew meal that had not been grabbed, I think someone missed out on theirs when they stopped in the toilet on their way to the galley, she viewed it as unclaimed merchandise . She ate a pork entree which she said was delicious and well worth the 'sh*ts' is caused. Really??? Oh my God I was going to have to sit on the jumpseat after she ate that meal for landing.

The landing was spent telling me how she was going to live with her son, whose rent she would pay as his girlfriend was unemployed, like her daugher, whose rent she was also paying for a year when she was finally able to evict her from the basement they shared.

When the flight was over, the rest of were in tears laughing all the way to the hotel, sharing our Kaiser stores. Please let me retire before I get this loony. Please...

If Only All Flights Were This Fast

noreply@blogger.com (Heather) — Fri, 08 Apr 2011 12:22:00 +0000

Will the Last Person to Leave Belgium Please Turn the Lights Off

noreply@blogger.com (Heather) — Wed, 23 Feb 2011 19:36:00 +0000

Recently Boy Who Flies and I did a road trip to Sankt Wendel, Germany to watch the World Championships of cyclocross . (Go ahead to look it up, I had to Google it the first time he mentioned it to me). Last year I agreed to go see the races as we would stay in Prague, it actually kinda suprised me how much fun they were to watch. This year they were in a tiny town in Germany, about an hour from Trier. We made that our homebase and drove to watch the races.

Cyclocross is apparently something of a religion in Belgium, there were 65,000 people at the races and I would swear 64,500 of them were Belgian. I am not sure how many were actual fans of the sport, judging by how many stayed in the party tent the whole time, I suspect they will travel for parties.

The course was insanely crowded with people in all sort of crazy costumes sporting their national or regional colors. People had gone there in buses from Belguim, the belly of the bus FILLED with beer, or in caravans with flags hung from them. Horns, cowbells, megaphones all honking, ringing and blaring. Swiss fans were neatly organized in one corner, cheering a choreographed cheer, girls wandered around with their faces painted with Belgian flags, Frenchmen wandered waving their flags and wearing red, white and blue scarves. The Germans seemed frankly a bit bewildered by it all .

As you can see people enlisted their pets, umbrellas and mannequins into supporting their country and cyclist.

The racing itself is fun in the fast moving , messy way hockey is. Cyclists have to hop over wood barriers, carry their cycles over their shoulders up flights of stairs and over pavement , mud and often snow during the races which are less than an hour.

The race itself was much more exciting that the clip, however the fans at the 'dramatic' parts apparently staked out their turf at sunrise. Equally fun as the race was the action inside the party tents. There were two tents, the regular one and the "Belgica Village" where I am fairly certain you had to be drunk to enter and also speak Flemish AND wear red, yellow and black. As we were none of the above we hung out between races in the normal tent. Beer sold in increments of 1-12, sausages and the ubiquitous frites, which I had to wolf down quickly and without photo as Boy Who Flies was gagging at me eating fries topped with mayonnaise, ketchup and chopped onions ( weird but actually tasted good). The tent was sort of comparable to a European apres-ski, with crap pop music and sing alongs. It was certainly as cold as a ski slope there, even inside the tent.

Next year the race is in Belgium, but I think we will give that particular race a miss, the year after it is in Louisville, Kentucky. I can only imagine how the crazy cycling fans will mix with the Southerners. They do share the mullet in common.....maybe it will be a match made in heaven.

Dear 9J

noreply@blogger.com (Heather) — Thu, 13 Jan 2011 15:37:00 +0000

Ipad on the airplane!!! woot woot, originally uploaded by Tomiya Nation.

Dear 9J,

You seemed to really enjoy using your iPad on the flight. I am the first to admit...jealous. However it was a little too kind of you to leave your iPad in your seat for me.

NO, I did not keep it! It was turned into a concerned gate agent along with your name. We shouted your name on the people mover going to the terminal in Washington, you must have been connecting and going the other way.

This brings me to my point, which I need to follow as well. LABEL your electronic devices!!! It is more than once passengers have left phones, computers etc not only on aircraft, but at the security area as well.

The black covers everyone purchases for the iPads help them to blend in, I use a brightly colored striped ( okay some might say garish) bag for my Mac, but you can be sure its hideous colors catch my eye and it is not forgotten!

One crew member had her white Mac blend in so well with the security bin that a TSA worker put it back in the pile of bins, luckily she ran back to retrieve it!

PLEASE, put an address label, or even just a piece of tape with your email address on things. If you lost it on my flight I WILL take the time to mail it to you.

This is a traveling public service announcement.

My Blogroll has died

noreply@blogger.com (Heather) — Fri, 07 Jan 2011 18:01:00 +0000

Ugh.. I noticed that Blogroller bit the dust and took all my blogs I read links with it.. I am adding the ones I follow, and if anyone has any suggestions, please comment, I would love to check them out. They can be of any variety, I would be bored reading only about aviation!!

A Roundtrip to Crazy and Back, aka the Naughty Photos , the Tooth and the Tiny Terror

noreply@blogger.com (Heather) — Fri, 07 Jan 2011 16:57:00 +0000

What a round trip. 16 hours of flying had the drama of a months worth of flying for most people. I had to let this trip settle for a week before I could document it. I thought it might look a wee bit less crazy upon re-examination, but it only looks worse...

One of our French stewards, who shall remain nameless, had an admirer on our flight to the states. Said steward is married, a bit paunchy and not the slick gent many of his countrymen are. He is shy, nervous and frankly creeps out many of his female coworkers as he draws rather filthy comics obsessively. Of the 6 men of the crew that day, he would be my last choice for an inflight crush.

A Turkish woman on the flight developed a sweet spot for him. Somehow she got up her nerve and approached him in the galley between services. Before the pre-landing service it had progressed to the Turk running her hands up and down his chest murmuring how she wanted to kiss and hold him. Bold words indeed in front of an audience...

Somehow he managed to pull out a nugget of that Gallic charm and said as he did not have a camera he would have to take a photograph of her with his eyes. Moment later she presented him with an array of PG-13 Boudoir photographs. I would not have believed him had he not shared them with the whole crew.

He was wondering how he got so lucky, I was wondering who in the hell carries an assortment of saucy photographs to hand out like candy?

As we left the aircraft and wandered towards passport control, the Turkish temptress was waiting for him. Somehow she wangled the name of the hotel we were staying in out of him. She was traveling to Orlando, so luckily for his marriage a meeting could not be set up. On the bus to the hotel the crew begged him to make sure his hot tempered Moroccan wife would not find the pics, she would kill him. The girls on the crew were horrified at what he was contemplating, the guys were hysterical with laughter.

A late evening of phone sex apparently ensued, and I imagine she gave him enough inspiration to crank out another half dozen of his comics.

The flight back we had a two fronted assault of insanity. The first passengers to board were a woman and her wheelchair bound mother. The daughter thought it was not necessary before getting to the aircraft door to tell us her mother could not walk . (Note to anyone traveling with a wheelchair bound companion, this is VERY important).

So after a brief delay waiting for the wheelchair attendants to get the aisle chair, and bring the elderly woman to her seat, the daughter starts screaming. The gate agents had thoughtfully upgraded the 2 ladies to the premium economy section to give them more leg room, and given then a row to themselves. Daughter decided she anted her mother in the exit row, which does have more legroom, but it would literally be breaking an FAA regulation (law) to do so.

When the steward pointed out that sadly it was not possible, but with the row to themselves they should be very comfortable the daughter started shrieking "You are killing my mother!" so loudly I could hear it in First Class.

Daughter dearest demanded that her mother sit in the exit row, law or no. When the crew member tried to point just how unable to sit there her mother was by going over the abilities required on the safety card, she said her mother could do all them.

Finally the daughter shoved her hand at the crew member and told him "Get out of my face!!" Not a wise move, ever. The customer service was called on the plane, and she gave them full attitude as well, so the cops were called. The tiny terror gave the cops more attitude and told them to go away. Oh they went away, carrying her with them. She made herself deadweight, like a no nukes protestor. She clutched onto each headrest as she was pulled a row forward, screaming all the way.

I was a bit suprised no cameras were out, for this would be a classic YouTube moment. Her legs were kicking and flying as she was brought to the front of the plane, and her mother taken off. As the door of the aircraft closed, you could hear a guttural "NOOOOOOO!!!!"

If only the drama ended there. The passengers were , not suprisingly, unusually docile for the rest of the flight. It was only the pursers dead tooth that caused the remaining drama. The purser is a Triathelete, very physically fit and proud of his toughness. His dead tooth and dying tooth nerve caused him to curl up and start crying. Never a pretty thing to see.

We called for a doctor or dentist, and they determined nothing in our medical kit would alleviate the pain. He was put on sick leave for the flight, and we were all offering our home remedies for pain, including sucking down a copious amount of Cognac. One passenger offered forth their supply of "Purser's Little Helpers" and he was off in lala land for the duration of the flight. When he didn't wake in pain and down some more. We drew straws to see who would escort him to his commuter flight home, to make sure he didn't fall asleep on the cool tile floor off the terminal floor, which would seem perfectly reasonable in his state. He made it home safely, his parents collecting him at the other end.

I slept a really long time after that trip...

Painted Ladies

noreply@blogger.com (Heather) — Sun, 02 Jan 2011 23:05:00 +0000

I am providing a brief palate cleanser before I write about my New Years trip. Something light, fluffy and appealing to the eye... if you like bright colors.

I was recently in Coconut Grove, Florida visiting my Boy Who Flies (BWF). He was called out to work a trip to Buenos Aires, Argentina and as the flight was full I entertained myself in warm sunny South Florida. South Florida is filled with many men who look like Santa gone bad, but I was a little reluctant to photograph them. Between them and the homeless woman who wanted money to buy Vagisil ( a new approach) I was not hard up for good people watching there.

Coconut Grove hosts a series of peacock statues on parade , sort of similar to the cows that travelled the world . The peacocks were created by local artists and are scattered throughout

Coconut Grove ( well the safer parts anyway).

Overheard in Business Class

noreply@blogger.com (Heather) — Fri, 31 Dec 2010 04:54:00 +0000

Overheard in Business Class-

Me: Would you care for a US or German newspaper sir?

Passenger: Which ones are the German ones?

Me: The ones in German......

Beary Scary...

noreply@blogger.com (Heather) — Wed, 29 Dec 2010 18:03:00 +0000

Today I flew with "the Bear". The Bear is a stuffed animal that its owner takes everywhere with them. He has several outfits and even changes into pajamas in the evening. Did I forget to mention that the bears owner is a 46 year old woman , and was my purser?

I first met the bear when its owner ( handler? caretaker? mommy?) was a passenger on my flight, sitting in First Class on her way to Frankfurt, she had just transferred there. I initially thought is was a school project as crew members are always given various Flat Stanleys or stuffed bears whose travels we have to document. Oh if only.

The Captain was wandering around First Class and started talking to her when she introduced him to the bear. Frankly he could not have backed away quickly enough when he realized she was serious. she extended his paw for a handshake. I had to run into the galley to hide the laughter..

When she put his pajamas on for bed, I was beside myself. The crew members who knew her from past flying said she brings the bear into the crew rest area with her.

I spent the trip today looking for a bear sighting. I suspect she has heard her mental health is in question so keeps him in her suitcase during the trip. How seriously can you take someone who carries a stuffed animal everywhere at the age of 46? (Though dammit, her Asian features make her look 23, and her helium voice makes her sound about 12). Good grief, this was bigger than Tipper!! I had to wonder if she brought the bear on dates, as shockingly she was single.

Midtrip, I started to feel a little bad about painting her as a lunatic, she was a hard worker and very sweet. We sort of bonded over a shared love of knitting and she even gifted me a Beijing shoe bag. Maybe we are all slightly crazy, some just keep theirs closer to the surface.

Dear Melissa

noreply@blogger.com (Heather) — Tue, 28 Dec 2010 03:11:00 +0000

I recently has a reader ring the call button and ask me a really thought provoking question. Melissa wanted to know if I would do this job over again if given the chance... Talk about a toughie!!

Melissa, I would have to say for ME the answer would be yes. Perhaps I am a glutton for punishment but I think if I saw that ad for a cattle call again as a 21 year old, I would like to think I would go to that interview again in spite of some of the crap that would be in my future.

When I applied for this job I had no real idea of what a flight attendants life would be like. My mother did the job in the glam era of the job, so her nostalgia painted a pretty picture of the job I will admit. (Mom, the crew desk no longer gives you wake up calls when you have an early trip, but supervisors do not check to make sure you are wearing a girdle.)

If I had a strong need to sleep in my bed every night, or even know what day of the week it is, I would not reapply. If I would burst into tears at the thought of spending 24 hours alone on a layover, in a foreign country where I did not speak the language, I would not reapply.

This job has taken me to over 20 countries on layovers , and over 60 on personal travel that I could only dream of with my reduced rate travel on other airlines. I have also had to share apartments and even rooms for far longer in life that most of the people I went to school with, for this jobs pay is not one if its strong points relative to the cities I have been based in.

I have worked charter flights to the Olympics and met more celebrities and even royalty ( admittedly minor royals or shamed ones...yes you Fergie). I have also has people expect me to clean up after their vomit or throw trash at their feet and expect me to clean it up.

The job has given me layovers between 10 hours and 5 days, in hotels ranging in quality from 5 star (Swisshotel Seoul and Steigenberger Frankfurt, I miss you) and so dumpy as to be listed in a Korean hostel guidebook ( yes you dumpy Furama).

If I felt a strong need to be home every weekend, or could not entertain myself when I am awake with jetlag at 4am and the only thing on the TV is CNN International because I am overseas, I would not go to that interview again.

Melissa, this job is nothing that cannot be undone, it is not enlisting in the service. If you are thinking about it and are open enough in life to be able to deal with not knowing where you are sleeping that night as you are on standby, and can bounce back from things like spending a Saturday night watching Bravo because no one fun to go play with is on your crew, then go for it.

This job ended up to be not much like I imagined it, sometimes I am so tired I spend the whole day in my pajamas recovering from a gruesome trip, yet for me the benefits outweigh the negatives. Hell for me most anything beats getting up early five days a week.

If you have any more specific questions please write back.

A Tale of Two Notes

noreply@blogger.com (Heather) — Sat, 25 Dec 2010 19:28:00 +0000

Sometimes at the end of the flight you are handed various notes or trinkets from passengers. Sometimes it is candy, a treat from the duty free cart or a note from an admirer. 2 crew members on a recent flight got such notes, though of a very different kind.

'Sam' the steward, who is quite the handsome treat for the eye got a 2 page love note on a returned snack tray from a besotted gentleman. This man offered to show him the sights of Washington DC by moonlight, which he reckoned were really spectacular with freshly fallen snow and the Christmas tree on display. It was quite a sweet note that would have touched anyone who was single and interested in the writer of the note. ('Sam' was neither, pity).

'Susie' the stewardess got handed a business card, without a word or a wonk, merely the name of the passengers hotel scribbled on the back. 'Susie' was made to feel like a hooker.

Dear reader, it is very possible for a passenger to make a date with a member of the crew ( ask my dad how he met my mom) but make sure they are interested first, and don't make them feel like they should tell you their hourly rate..

Note to the reader Melissa, I will answer your letter tomorrow, I have been giving it lots of thought and apologize for the delay.

Overheard in First Class

noreply@blogger.com (Heather) — Thu, 02 Dec 2010 07:00:00 +0000

Passenger: Do you have freshly squeezed juice?

Me: Not remotely.

Side note- Yes she did want her fleece sweatshirt hung in the closet.

FrankfurtMain after the snow...aka the last flight out of Saigon

noreply@blogger.com (Heather) — Wed, 01 Dec 2010 13:33:00 +0000

Brrr, baby it was cold outside. Frankfurt has a snowstorm the other day, which made for a beautiful day off enjoying the Christmas markets, but a nightmare for those trying to fly. Most inter-European flights in/out of central Germany were cancelled the day before I flew, which made the airport resemble Saigon as the airport closed. Well, minus the snow...

So many passengers never made it to Frankfurt that our flight to the states was freakishly light in First and Business class. The snow made it a bear for other crew to get home. Those that lived in Amsterdam and Paris did not have a proverbial snowballs chance in hell of getting on a flight , so they bought train tickets. Others were begging for trips, to avoid trying to find a hotel room in a situation like this.
This crap weather is expected to continue through the week... there goes my trip to Vienna :-(...

Could There Be a Happier Sight in an Airport?

noreply@blogger.com (Heather) — Wed, 17 Nov 2010 08:00:00 +0000

A welcome pit stop ( off duty of course!) at Amsterdam's Schipol Airport.

Very naughty yet very funny...

noreply@blogger.com (Heather) — Tue, 16 Nov 2010 17:12:00 +0000

Bedoin...who knew??

noreply@blogger.com (Heather) — Wed, 13 Oct 2010 15:17:00 +0000

I recently returned from a trip to France with the Boy Who Flies. When he invited me to travel to Bedoin, France to visit him, I will admit I had to google where in the heck it was ( Vaucluse) , and how to get there. He is an avid cyclist and Bedoin sits at the foot of Mt. Ventoux, which is one of the Tour de France climbs and as such , is a bit of a religious ride for him. Having seen him in his bike shorts, I would have been a fool not to go.

We stayed in a tiny hotel , La Garance , which is right across the street from a fantastic restaurant and a tiny vineyard. This hotel is the sort where your croissant is served with fresh jam from the neighbors fruit.

Few things are an enjoyable as an evening eating food on a patio overlooking grape vines as the sun sets. For a boy who is not too romantic, he certainly picked a great setting for our dinners. The temperamental female chef made it a game to see if the restaurant would open in the evening. Apparently it is hard enough to keep a chef in a small town, they put up with divas.

Bedoin is built upon a hill side, crazy steep car free streets that make you feel like a 1950s film star walking through town in the evening. Nice to visit, but the fact you can hear your neighbors each and every movement made me glad not to live there. Note to self, wear flats next year..

We happened to stumble upon market day there, as we were leaving, and he gamely let me wander for an hour or two. After I restrained myself from buying up everything with a price tag, I was able to get some snaps with my phone, as my beloved camera is being repaired.

I was longing for a kitchen and a set of pots and pans after spying the food, herbs and spices. It is only a farmers market where you can wax over a bag of herbes de Provence and how best to use them, or which meat is best served with which spices and vinegar marinade. You could ( and I did) make a meal of the samples they were offering.

The bottles above are infused vinegars, which were all available to taste with bread, and has papers detailing what best to prepare with them.

While not food, soap is one of my fail safe, nearly unbreakable gifts for friends.

I could have easily bought about a dozen of these baskets, but the Barbie doll sized car we rented kept my shopping aspirations pint sized. Next year I will know to bring an empty suitcase with me.

We also stopped in Vaison-la-Romain, which has to be one of my favorite villages in France. As soon as I can pry the photos Boy Who Flies took of the place, they will be posted, along with some of Mt Ventoux.

Logjam Cleared

noreply@blogger.com (Heather) — Tue, 05 Oct 2010 16:58:00 +0000

I have been suffering from a bit of creative block lately, and the beloved camera broke. The boy who flies is repairing the camera, but I think I have successfully repaired the creative block.

Really it wasn't me, it was the lady in 3F. The older woman who was watching a video on her computer and smiling. Sitting in a rather unladylike position with a blanket on. Watching porn on her laptop. It has been a while since I have had an "I've never seen that" moment on the plane, but 3F you brought me back. Thank you honey!!!

I Wish This Happened More Often

noreply@blogger.com (Heather) — Tue, 10 Aug 2010 10:14:00 +0000

Knock Knock

noreply@blogger.com (Heather) — Wed, 28 Jul 2010 21:43:00 +0000

Ding goes the flight attendant call button!

Me: Hello, Are you alright? Do you need anything?

Passenger: Yeah, can I get a coke??

The passenger had rung the call button in the TOILET.

Me: When you leave the toilet and go back to your seat.....

Coming soon- the stories of 2 colleagues, one with fake fingers and one with fake fruit.

The Caped Crusader...or Reason #8 Why Ambien and Liquor Do Not Mix

noreply@blogger.com (Heather) — Fri, 25 Jun 2010 14:01:00 +0000

Quite some time ago I wrote a post about the pant flusher who until that point, was the most ridiculous example of why Ambien and liquor do not mix. The caped crusader has topped him in oh so many ways.

The caped crusader was sitting behind the crew rest area on the flight, which on this particular aircraft is a block of 6 economy seats curtained off. His seat, and the one next to it are some of the most desired in economy, tons of legroom, quiet in front of you, really an area where you should nicely be able to get a nights sleep .

This man decided to help himself to the land of Nod by taking Ambien and washing it down with a cocktail or two. ( Crew members everywhere know this is not going to end well...)

Sometime mid flight he decided he needed to relieve himself. He tried to enter the crew rest area, thinking in his drug and drink haze it was a toilet. Mercifully for everyone, he did not urinate there. If he had, this blog post would have been written from prison as I surely would have killed him.

He somehow peed in his pants at that point, THEN stumbled back to the bathroom. This was the time he decided naked was better than clothed, and took off all his clothes and put them in the trash can. He walked back to his seat in the state he was born in.

A crew member who discovered his naturalist state gave him a blanket to cover himself up in. He decided than that the most logical way to wear it was as a cape. I would have opted for a sarong, covering his man bits would have been a better choice, but who am I to judge...

Oh Marge....

noreply@blogger.com (Heather) — Wed, 09 Jun 2010 16:11:00 +0000

Oh Marge, what a kick in the pants you were to work with. More of a smack on the ass really, since you kept doing that to me on the flight.

In briefing before the flight, I should have been suspicious when no one opted to work in first class with you. Silly me, I chose to work first class galley anyway, thinking it the least hateful spot of the 747.

Often when you work with senior crew members, you can see flashes of their junior selves, the girl in them that got them hired. A giggle, wink, trim figure or sweet southern accent will tell you how they got the job in their youth. Not so with Marge. Her smokers voice made you feel like you were working with one of Marge Simpsons sisters come to life. She was wearing the sensible shoes and trouser/sweater combo that screamed "Don't mess with with me honey."

She threw her bags in the first class closet, and took the time to croak that the hated people, all before the predeparture champagne had been uncorked. During boarding ,when a woman with a toddler sat in first class, that was the time to share with me she hated 'blighters' ( kids). She doesn't working upper deck because she hated pilots, so really at this point I wondered if it might be easier for her to tell me what she didn't hate.

She moved as slow as a snail, and had a complete disinterest in giving our passengers anything remotely resembling a first class service. Champagne glasses? "Naw, I use these wine glasses, they hold more so I don't have to refill them as often" she winked as she told me. It was at that point I started to feel ill....

Every time she entered the galley, there was an ass smack followed by a "whatcha doin girlfriend?" or "Hey girlie girl! " Marge, I am working, you might want to try it sometime, I thought. But of course just winced and carried on.

When the service was mercifully complete, she took the time to share that airplane food gave her "the shits" then proceeded to eat 3 crew meals. I thought I could get something positive out of her by asking if she liked flying to the new destinations her base had, like Brussels. Whats not to like, a sweet layover hotel, nice chocolate, how can you not like a Brussels trip I thought? She proceeded to share that, since " those Africans in economy smell like a herd of cattle" she did not like working that flight. I was afraid to ask what she thought of flights to China, and walked away.

Marge, you weren't mean but good God really you need to be working in a diner, Waffle House or Bob's Big Boy, not an airplane.

Something to Cleanse the Palate

noreply@blogger.com (Heather) — Fri, 04 Jun 2010 14:43:00 +0000

After reading about the teen Lolita and her creepy suitor, maybe we could all use something fresh and light to cleanse our palates.. I recently had a layover in London, which was incredibly strange after having lived there for so long. It was familiar, so much so I started walking towards a place I no longer lived at, forgetting my home that evening was a hotel.

My boy who flies is thinking of writing a book on the Mews of London. For those unfamiliar with the concept of a mews it is a tiny row of houses, usually behind garden squares, where the Victorians kept their animals. They were originally for falcons who were molting ( see, boy pilot is doing his research) but quickly changed to the area where the horses were stabled. Those stables are now little bijoux sized homes in the city, with prices to make your eyes water.

My homework on this layover was to photograph certain news to see if they were attractive enough for boy pilot to go back and photograph professionally. In case you are wondering, he is equally as good running down books I want on his layovers, bless him.

The above Courtfield Mews, which I lived across from for several years and tragically never really noticed. That is part of the charm of the mews, they are sort of invisible, generally traffic free and so quiet you could often swear you are in the countryside if your eyes are closed.

The two lovelies above and below are Kynance Mews, which have always been my favorite .Not all the mews have so much greenery in them, it is a real treat to see so much . Mews home owners do not have a back yard, or any windows along the back so the front area is their yard and view. The owners here really make the most of it.

Jailbait , or the Russian Lolita

noreply@blogger.com (Heather) — Thu, 03 Jun 2010 12:30:00 +0000

Last week there was an unaccompanied minor on the flight from San Francisco to Frankfurt. There are children traveling alone who are escorted from parent to gate to the person meeting them, to keep them safe and from getting lost. Usually they are under 10 but internationally they maybe up to 16 years old .

This UM was a Russian girl, living in the states but going back to Russia for the summer. She was 15 but dressed in her stilettos and jeans cut so low you could see what she had eaten for lunch.. She looked easily in her 20s ...Of course a girl like that would find the UM red and white striped button clashed with her fashion choices, so she removed it when she sat down..

Sometime during the 10 hour flight " Lolita " befriended a man in his fifties. Shortly thereafter the new couple began making out and groping, the sort that should really be done in the backseat of a car at the end of a date. The crew had a meltdown and separated the two lovebirds for the rest of the flight, and had customer service supervisors meet the flight.

The male passenger was held aside, I am sure the customer service reps were quaking in fear, imagining a lawsuit from the panicked parents of the teen. She got on the phone with her mother and began jabbering heatedly in Russian. The authorities decided as she spoke to her parents first, they could not take what Lolita would have claimed at face value, as she might have been coached. In any case, the mother was not bothered by the events on the flights.

I am not sure if that was the more or less disturbing than the fact the mans SON was also on the flight, and more age appropriate for the girl, as he was 17. The man was released and Lolita was escorted to her connecting flight. We are fairly sure she and the creepy man are now Facebook friends...