Coffee, Tea or Me? (34 page)

Every job and every industry boasts its own peculiar set of terms and phrases. Being a stewardess for an airline is no different. We have our own jargon that we communicate with effectively. Some of it is as follows:

 

Actual flying time:
The time from the moment the blocks are removed from the wheels of the aircraft at the point of departure to when they’re replaced at point of arrival.

ATC:
Air Travel Card. We give you credit for a little status when we know you have such a card. We credit you with similar status when you flash a membership card to an airline’s VIP club. It doesn’t always mean you deserve status. Some of our greatest disappointments are cardholders. But it’s a reference point with which to begin.

Belly:
Underneath the plane where the baggage is carried.

Bid sheets:
Each month, every stewardess receives a bid sheet on which she bids for certain trips the following month. Naturally, the longer you’ve been flying, the more preference you’re given. It takes at least a year before you’ve achieved enough seniority to get what you bid. This can fluctuate according to how rapidly the girls are finding men and leaving the job for marriage. In a good year, when romance is running wild, you can climb up the seniority ladder more quickly.

Booze report:
How many bottles of liquor were served on any given flight? That question, and its answer, will determine how many bottles must be returned after the flight. It’s all on the beverage report. By the way, we don’t get away with as many bottles as the airline believes we do. It’s not easy.

Bumped:
We’re going to Phoenix for a glorious weekend vacation. We’re flying on a free pass. We get as far as Chicago and keep our fingers crossed. We’re told it looks good—there are two open seats and we can have them. And then you come running down to catch that Phoenix flight at the last minute. You bump us off the trip. We spend the weekend drinking in Chicago to keep warm. Thanks.

CAT:
This is not a term to describe a new counterespionage group. It stands for Clear Air Turbulence, that mysterious and un-definable rough air you hit when flying on a clear, beautiful day. It causes many problems, usually because seat belts are unfastened when we hit it. CAT never shows up on aircraft radar.

Cattle car:
Tourist-class aircraft or the tourist section of a two-class airplane.

Cockpit key:
Our government frowns on passengers entering the flight deck and hijacking the airplane. Thus, we have a federal regulation that dictates that the cockpit door will be closed and locked at all times. We each carry a key under our jacket.

Credit time:
If any crew member is away from his home base for too long a time, the pay scale is adjusted accordingly to a higher rate. We then are paid for our credit time.

Crew sched:
These are the men who schedule stewardess trips and check us in and out. They’re located in operations and, for the most part, are pretty good guys.

CTO agent:
City ticket agent who works behind the counter in the city.

Deadhead:
It could mean you’re dull. But more often it means a crew member is returning to his home base as a passenger. He or she has worked a trip to some city and must return home without a flight to work.

Demo O
₂
mask:
The oxygen mask we use to demonstrate procedure before takeoff. Black pepper in it is a marvelous way to reap revenge on a naughty girl.

Ferry:
Bringing an aircraft or crew back from somewhere to another point. Passengers never fly on ferry flights.

Flag stop:
A special stop to pick up passengers left stranded through the fault of the airline. Especially prevalent during bad weather in certain sections of the country or during strikes by other airlines.

Flight deck:
Airline’s fancy term for what you’ve always called the cockpit. This change in nomenclature is designed to dispense with the World War I image of pilot with silk scarf around neck and wind in face, goggles, etc. Call it what you will, but we must call it flight deck. OK?

Flight pay log:
All crew members keep records of their flying time for pay purposes on this sheet, which is kept in the cockpit.

FTO agent:
Field ticket agent who works behind the counter at the airport.

Galley:
Where we cook up all the goodies you enjoy on your flight. Also called the buffet area, when someone wants to add class to the conversation. In reality, it’s a kitchen, no cleaner or dirtier than yours at home and designed for the same functions. It’s also the only solitary place on an airplane where a stewardess can retreat and lick her wounds. Please take note that we
hate
people to poke their heads in the galley when the drapes are closed.

Jump seat:
An extra seat on an airplane where the stewardess sits on takeoff and landing.

Layover:
Our moment of complete collapse. We lay over after working a trip to a destination away from home base. We stay there for a period of time and then return home on the return leg of the trip. If you’re laying over somewhere too, and would like to “bump into” a stewardess, you might try the following hotels:

Mechanical:
Trouble with the equipment on a flight that causes delay or cancellation.

Milk run:
Those puddle-jumping flights that stop at many places before reaching their final destination. We just pray when working them that we won’t develop aircraft trouble and be forced to spend the night in one of the intermediate cities.

Mis-connect:
Our airline has booked you on the wrong flight or we were late and you missed your next trip. You’re a mis-connect and we’re sorry.

OLP:
We call you this when you’ve made your reservation through one airline for passage on another. You’re an off-line passenger.

OSB:
Actually means Other Stations Boarding. You’ve made your reservations in one city but board in another. You’re an OSB. Talk nasty to us and we shift the letters.

Over-water pay:
Flying trips over water bring extra pay for stewardesses.

PA check:
Our supervisor sneaks on board the plane before take-off and checks us for all necessary items. Gloves, flashlight, grease pencil, etc. Naturally, we’re never 100 percent right, and as passengers, you should be happy supervisors conduct these PA checks. There’s no telling what we’d forget without them.

Pass rider:
An employee riding free on a pass. All such passengers fly space available, and are only there because the plane did not have a full load of paying passengers. Airline employees are instructed not to tell other passengers they’re traveling free. There’s no sense upsetting the guy next to you who has just paid $200 for his ticket.

PSR:
Passenger service representative. His job with any airline is to try and soothe you when your feathers are ruffled. It’s a very difficult job and you really can’t blame any of these people for turning to the bottle later in their lives.

Reserve:
When we’re on reserve, it simply means we’re on call to cover any trip that is short of a stewardess. Being on reserve is usually the plight of junior girls who can’t win bids. You’ll also find senior girls flying reserve because they didn’t bother bidding for a particular month or turned their bid sheet in past the deadline. One thing is certain: Fostering a love interest is damned tough when you’re on reserve.

Seat chart:
The chart on which we record your names and destinations; that is, when we can spell your name. You might try helping us once in a while.

Senior pay:
The senior stew on a trip receives extra pay for the paperwork she’s responsible for.

I got on the 707 bound for San Francisco low in spirit. My gloomy mood was a combination of many things. I still had a bad taste in my mouth from my ugly experience with the Hollywood star. I couldn’t get Sally Lu completely out of my mind. A kind of general lethargy had set in—I didn’t have my old pep and zoom. I no longer bounced out of bed in the morning, eager to get on a plane, meet the day’s passengers, wrestle with the flight’s problems. The routine seemed monotonous. The problems were boring. I’d already met all the passengers. Clearly I was in the doldrums.

The Chuck situation bothered me, too. He was the greatest guy I’d ever met. Everything was marvelous between us. The fact that I didn’t see him very often kept the level of excitement high. It was like a holiday when he turned up. He’d made it pretty clear that he might be interested in marrying me someday, some remotely future day when I’d gotten all the flying and the chasing after glamour out of my system. I was sick of flying as of right now. Did that mean I was ready to marry Chuck?

My thoughts sped round and round like little animals in a cage. I was really in a poisonous mood as I passed out the second round of drinks on the San Francisco flight. Suddenly I felt a tap on my fanny. I spun around. It was Mr. Shackwood in the last row of first-class seats. He was a man with one of those tight expressionless little faces and a hairline mustache. I never like that type. I waggled my index finger in front of his nose. “That’s a no-no. Mustn’t touch.” That was my automatic answer to tappers and pinchers.

He beckoned me closer to him. “Lean over. I want to tell you something.”

There was nothing to do but lean over and hope he wouldn’t start crawling down the front of my blouse. “How about when we get to San Francisco,” he said, “I buy you a dinner and then we go to my hotel and screw.”

That was precisely the invitation I needed at that moment in my life. And from this vile little creep. “I guess you mean tonight,” I snarled at him.

He grinned broadly, “That’s right.”

“That’s what I thought.” I walked away from him in utter disdain. Rachel was getting the dinner trays ready in the galley. “If Shackwood rings in the back of this section, you take him. I’m likely to toss him out a window.”