More Confessions of a Hostie (11 page)

I think the cruise goes on for an hour and a half, but we have begun to refer to it in terms of the number of drinks we've devoured on average – therefore, this was a five-Mai Tai cruise. We step straight off the catamaran and into Dukes.

Dukes is always busy, and normally you have to wait a while for a table. But tonight we are lucky. As we walk/stagger into Dukes, the people sitting at the table with the best view are preparing to leave. We slide in and settle into one of the best beachfront locations you are likely to find.

‘Another cocktail?' Damien asks.

‘Yes please,' Helen grins.

Helen is prepared to party all night, but for once I become the voice of reason. I remind her that we have a big day planned tomorrow and perhaps it is time to head back to the hotel. She agrees.

Three or four hours later (or it might be five or six hours) we do just that.

One of the best feelings in the world is removing your shoes and walking along the water's edge in the moonlight at Waikiki Beach. My normally quiet and reserved best friend tucks her new dress into her underwear and walks knee-deep along the shoreline. She is having the time of her life. It is moments like these where the jetlag and the sheer physical exhaustion I so often feel become a distant memory. My best friend will cherish this experience for the rest of her life. So will I.

The next morning, what was meant to be breakfast becomes brunch. We don't care that we slept in. I had given Helen the option of doing some touristy things, but she is more than happy just to relax and chill out. We end up lying in the sun, and much to my surprise Helen is keen to try surfing. We hire surfboards and paddle/wobble out to the break. We catch a few waves, but neither of us can stand up on the board for more than a few seconds. It doesn't matter as the water is the perfect temperature. We spend yet another perfect day in paradise.

I make sure I paddle in before Helen so I can take some photos of her surfing. Her kids are not going to believe that their mummy was surfing. Here is some proof, I will tell them, and show them these pictures.

As we lie on the beach, giggling like we used to as school girls, Helen sincerely thanks me for the trip. I know this is the best trip she has ever done. She doesn't need to tell me so; I just know. I am just so thrilled I have the opportunity to share these special places and moments with her. We lie back on our towels and soak up the Hawaiian sun. I just love the fact that Helen doesn't feel obligated to see every tourist attraction. She is so relaxed and has absorbed every molecule of the beautiful scenery around her.

G.K. Chesterton (an English writer) once said, ‘The traveller sees what he sees. The tourist sees what he has come to see.' One of the things I usually see tourists doing is ripping and rushing to see as much as they can in as little time as they can. Particularly in places like Europe, most tourists seem to be more intent about saying they have been to many places than they are about taking the time to enjoy the experience.

After spending three or four hours in the sun Helen is keen to hit the shops again. Who am I to argue with her. We grab a cab and head to the factory outlet centres. I am now positive that Helen's husband will be quite traumatised by Helen's new obsession. He might just be pulling out his hair. I don't want to be responsible for her husband going completely bald so I curtail some of Helen's spending. However, in all fairness, most of the items she buys are for the kids anyway. She buys birthday presents, Christmas presents, gifts for next year's birthdays, gifts for next Christmas and so on. Only every now and then does she forget about the kids and say, ‘Hell, this one is for me.'

We had such a great time with Kate and Damien last night that we have organised to meet them again tonight. This time we are having cocktails at the Hilton Hotel. It is still on the beach and usually has a singer or guitarist playing. I really like spending time with our boss, Kate. Quite often, women who become managers let the power get to their heads. But not Kate. She is smart, likeable and seems normal in every sense of the word. She has been married to a non-flyer for a number of years, and although there are no children, the relationship appears solid.

It always doesn't work out so well when a flight attendant is involved in a relationship with ‘an earthling'. A flight attendant's lifestyle is very unique. We are away from home so often, and when we do come home we are usually jetlagged, exhausted and unable to be ourselves. For some relationships the time apart is helpful, but for others it can be destructive. Such relationships work only when both partners are independent and trusting – and by trusting, I don't just mean fidelity, but also trusting in each other's ability to deal with being apart.

I occasionally fly with girls who cannot handle being away from their husbands or boyfriends. Some have legitimate qualms, but others are way too clingy. They are constantly on the phone and are miserable the whole trip away. These girls either leave their flying careers or leave the relationship. Most don't end the relationship by choice. It is usually the guy who leaves. I know of some girls who actually loved their job, but loved their spouses more, so chose to pick the latter. Sadly some of those relationships did not work out, and the women live with the regret of quitting their jobs. Some try and get back into flying, but most are not successful. If they are successful, it is usually with another airline; even there, they have start all over again, at the bottom of the seniority heap.

Kate and I are quite similar, both in personality and circumstances. We are both independent and love our job and lifestyle. Kate's husband is a professional, much like how Dean is. I don't know much about Kate's husband, but I'd be guessing he is supportive of Kate's occupation. Kate has mentioned that her husband comes away on trips with her quite regularly. I think it is time to see if Dean would like to come away with me. It is an idea I will revisit when I get back home.

Helen and I wear new outfits we bought at the factory outlet centres as we sit in the grounds of the Hilton Hotel. It is set up like a Polynesian village overlooking the ocean. Damien and Kate already had their cocktails in hand when we arrive, so we took a leaf out of their book and ordered the same drinks. We had enough Mai Tais between us last night to last a lifetime, so we are having something different tonight.

A bad cocktail is a bit like a bad massage – bad but still pretty good. These cocktails are not bad however – they are sensational. The wedge of pineapple and the umbrella stick are right out of the 1970s and seem a bit clichéd, but the cocktails make up for the tackiness – they are divine. After we have had three pineapple wedges and umbrella sticks each, we decide to have dinner.

We walk along the beachfront to the Shorebird Restaurant, where Damien and the rest of us ate during our previous Honolulu trip. We have yet another cocktail there, and follow it up with some mahi mahi. Mahi mahi, or dolphin fish (but ‘mahi mahi' sounds so much more appealing), is the most common fish served in Honolulu. At the Shorebird you cook the fish (or steak) yourself and then help yourself to the salad bar. Helen and I were so busy shopping that we forgot to eat throughout the day. Apart from a few coffees and a muffin we haven't eaten since brunch, but we make up for it now.

After a heavy dinner, everyone is feeling a little tired. If Helen were not with me, I would have finished my meal and headed straight back to the hotel for some sleep. Even Helen is tired, but I know she would like to explore Honolulu some more. The chances for her to let her hair down are few and far between, so she is keen to make every moment count.

However, both Kate and Damien are cocktailed out. It is just Helen and I who decide to stick around a little longer, but for all our partying intentions we know that we won't last long either. When I was in my twenties I could party all night and go straight to work the next day and manage to function. But those days are long gone now. Helen and I visit several bars, some with live music. We realise that we are also cocktailed out, so we just stick with water. We dance, have our egos stroked by some flirtatious young college boys, dance some more, then decide to walk along the beach in the moonlight again. You can't have too much of a good thing.

The next morning we wake up early, go to the beach, have a swim and then sit at the Royal Hawaiian. We have a quick coffee and light breakfast. It is the perfect way to end Helen's little adventure in paradise. We race back to the hotel and I get ready for work. If our luck doesn't strike out now, Helen might just get to sit in Seat 1A again. I keep my fingers crossed for her.

how can heaven and hell be so far apart, yet so close?

When we reach the airport, I uncross my fingers. Helen will not be sitting in Seat 1A this time around. The flight was not originally fully booked, but, unfortunately for Helen, it is now.

Apparently another airline has cancelled one of its flights, and their passengers have now been transferred to our flight. Kate has checked with the ground staff, and it does look like one or two spare seats are still available. This means that Helen gets on the flight, but she will have to sit at the back of the plane. It is still better than sitting in our crew-rest seats, I reason. Besides, Helen doesn't mind. She and I are just relieved that she will be coming home with us. Well, truth be told, she would have been happy if she had been left behind for a few more days.

I am still on a high from having such a great time in Honolulu. I greet the passengers at the front door with my usual smile. I even engage in some friendly banter with them as they walk in:'How was your holiday?'; ‘Did you have a nice time?'; 'I can see you enjoyed the sun!'.

However, my smile fades a little as I observe a particular couple walk down the aerobridge; I can instantly tell that something is not right with them. Kate notices as well. He is several paces in front of her, and the only indication that they are even a couple is they both have the same unhappy look on their face. He maintains his pained expression at the door, but she changes facial expression all together as she stands alongside him. In an instant she goes from glum to all smiles.

She is either an actress or a flight attendant, I think. The man's expression still does not change one bit, however. They are seated together so they are definitely a couple. Or at least they
were
a couple – their body language does suggest they are not together any more.

Both Kate and I sense something is dramatically wrong. We don't know exactly what though, and it is not our place to ask, but we just know things aren't going right for these two. Kate suggests that if I do get the chance to have a chat with the woman, I should make sure that there are no issues we need to know about. That is one of the great things about working with experienced crew: we understand and analyse human behaviour much better than most of the younger crew. Kate knows that I not only have the ability for spotting potential problems, but also have the skills to possibly fix that problem, should it arise on the aircraft.

I play amateur psychiatrist all the time. Most of the time I get my diagnoses right, but occasionally I can be very wrong.

Helen comes onboard. We told her to board last just in case there was a no-show passenger from the front of the plane. Unfortunately they are all onboard, so Helen potters off to the very back row of the aircraft. She doesn't care. She jokes that she will get to see me working at the back of the plane.

‘Let's see if some of those plane stories you tell me have any truth in them?' she jibes.

‘You'll have a view of almost the entire aircraft from where you are sitting, so just wait and see,' I joke back.

It turns out that Helen was given the last seat on the plane. There are no other empty seats on this flight; we are completely packed. Fortunately she is in the aisle seat, which means I will be able to talk to her easily. The lady seated next to Helen is very nice; she works as a nurse in a psychiatric hospital. The two passengers in the back row seats opposite Helen appear to be a couple. I cannot recall them coming onto the aircraft together, but I figure that they must have boarded separately for some reason.

I chat with several passengers while I walk through the cabin. I then stop and purposefully talk to the attractive now-smiling woman seated next to her still-glum partner. I don't talk about anything specific, and she is incredibly sociable. Even so, I can't help but become more certain that there is something definitely wrong. She says that she is looking forward to having a nice glass of wine with lunch, and I report back to Kate that she appeared all smiles and friendly. Her partner, on the other hand, did not make eye contact and seemed totally disinterested in everything around him, including her.

The couple sitting in the back row opposite Helen are, on the other hand, are a lot more interested in each other – and embarrassingly so. They are becoming very touchy-feely. Most couples in long relationships are not so brazen with their feelings in public. I can only presume this is a new relationship, very new: the more they drink, the more amorous they are getting, and the more they are letting their hands wander. Most of the passengers, including Helen, are busy watching movies, but the couple's antics do distract them nonetheless; in fact, a curious Helen can't help but take a few peeks at the couple.

Helen comes to the galley periodically to update me on the couple's frolics. She thinks it is hilarious. She agrees with me that they may have just met. Helen has been listening to some of their conversation, and it does seem they are in the process of getting to know each other. I relay to Helen that I did not recall them coming onto the aircraft together. Who needs reality TV when we have our own mini-series unfolding onboard?

In the meantime the attractive woman sitting with her morose partner is getting very drunk. She has had a number of glasses of wine in quick succession and is demanding more. Her once friendly demeanour is now slipping back into a darker mood. When Damien had picked her as being emotionally unstable earlier, I had argued that she was more a victim of circumstances at the hands of her partner than a mental-illness patient with any major psychological issues. I am starting to reevaluate.