More Confessions of a Hostie (9 page)

Damien hands the man the blanket. ‘Keep yourself warm with this blanket, and next time you get on a plane, which you supposedly do all the time, may I suggest you dress for airline travel and not for the beach.'

I would never be so bold. I would love to speak my mind at times, but it is just not in my nature – that's probably the reason why I never get into trouble.

Damien would later enthusiastically retell the story (over a few Mai Tais) about how rude the man was and how thin a t-shirt he wore – and how ugly too. When Damien said the word ‘ugly', I think he was referring to the t-shirt, but you can never be quite sure with Damien.

In all fairness to Mr. 48C, aircrafts are cold. Normal temperature on a plane is a lot colder than most other places. Let me tell you why. If the cabin temperature is too warm the chances of passengers suffering from dizziness or possible fainting spells increases. The cooler temperature also helps passengers fall sleep. It must be like how some animals, namely reptiles, react to the cold; the cooler it is, the less active they become. Particularly on night sectors, we want the passengers to get as much rest as possible.

In saying that, some areas on an aircraft are colder than other areas – that's where the air-conditioning vents and outlets are. One of the Airbus aircrafts I fly on regularly is absolutely freezing in the back galley. It gets so cold that I have seen crew turn on the galley ovens and open them to get a little warmth.

When passengers complain, I am generally more diplomatic in my responses than Damien. Most passenger complaints occur not long after boarding or take-off, as was the case with Mr. 48C. The cabin is usually colder then because the air-conditioning has just been turned on. Given time, the body heat from all the passengers onboard heats the cabin.

When a passenger brings my attention to the fact that it is cold, and it is just after the air-conditioning has been turned on, then I either tell them that the cabin will warm up (I think Damien was about to tell this to our Mr. 48C, but was rudely cut off before he could) or that I'll let the manager know so they can adjust the temperature. Nine times out of ten, the cabin warms up anyway, and the passenger thinks I have listened to their request and had the temperature turned up. It's a win-win situation, really.

I walk up and down the aisle now, making sure the other passengers are doing OK and not feeling cold. Everyone seems fine.

I notice, however, that just outside the galley, an older man is seated, and he seems to be a little odd. He appears to be travelling on his own. The man's not odd as in he has some sort of mental disorder or condition, but his behaviour seems a tad askew.

I had been chatting with an elderly couple seated in front of this odd man. The couple reminds me of the lovely couple I had met on my last flight, the husband and wife celebrating their fiftieth anniversary in Japan. This couple is just as nice and tells a story about the last flight they were on: a passenger had had a mild heart attack on that flight, and the crew had performed magnificently to save the passenger's life. On their flight, the heart attack happened just before landing so there was no aircraft diversion, but the stress and additional workload as the crew prepared for landing must have been incredible.

The odd man has been leaning forward in his seat and eavesdropping on every word that we have said. As I leave the nice couple to walk back to the galley, he grabs me by the wrist and sleazily asks, ‘Will you give me mouth to mouth if I have a heart attack?'

Annoyed as well as offended, I pull my hand free and point in the direction of Damien, who is serving another passenger some six or seven rows ahead of me. Damien sees me pointing and gives me a cute yet very effeminate wave.

‘You see that other flight attendant over there? He is a qualified nurse. If you have a heart attack he will be the one giving you mouth to mouth. I'll be the one pounding violently on your chest,' I snap at the odd man.

You really do need a sense of humour in this job – and an even thicker skin. The skin is the largest and heaviest organ in the body, and mine is as thick as it can be. Over the years I have learnt to not take too many things personally. This was not always the case. When I had first started flying, I had hated being touched, ogled at, harassed and having to listen to sexual innuendos on a daily basis. The verbal attacks I eventually got used to, but not being touched by random sleazy men.

I am still not used to that.

I don't mind being accidently touched. That is unavoidable. Mine is the type of job where you are persistently bumping and brushing against other people. That can't be helped in the confined environment of an aircraft, which is essentially a moving, turning, turbulence-affected narrow metal tube. What I do mind is being intentionally touched.

On one flight, I had one man grab me on the butt and say ‘Hey toots, can you get me—'

He did not finish his sentence.

I've heard men call women ‘toots' in the movies, and it sounds condescending there. In real life, it sounds worse, if that's even possible. I've been called ‘sweetie', ‘missy', ‘darling', ‘love', ‘gorg' (short for ‘gorgeous' of course), ‘honey', ‘babe', ‘sweetcheeks', ‘doll' and ‘snookums'. I don't even know what ‘snookums' means, and I don't want to find out either. I am not overly fond of being called any of these names, but I don't take it personally. Touch me, however, and that is a whole different ballgame.

Having a thick skin is one thing, but having that skin touched without my permission is another. About the only part of my body that hasn't been grabbed at some point to get my attention is my hair – and that is because I am reasonably tall, and from a seated position the passengers probably can't reach my head. I have had plenty of taps on the shoulder, but that is usually from passengers standing up. I've often been on a cart with my back turned and had someone stick out their finger like E.T. and then jam it into my shoulder blades.

Depending on how hard the tap is and how bad my mood is at the time, I react. Once, toward the end of a thirteen-hour flight, in the middle of the worst menstrual cramps I've experienced, I had a finger jab into my back and with such force that I thought it was going to pop my collar bone.

Did I turn around and politely say, ‘Hello there, what would you like me to get you?'

No.

I kept my motto of ‘you can't get in trouble for something you didn't say', but if looks could kill, this passenger was electrocuted, poisoned, thrown off a cliff and then stabbed through the heart. There is only one thing worse than being tapped for attention, and that is being grabbed for attention.

grab my attention, but don't grab me

Almost every time I pass the odd, old and lecherous man, he grabs me by the hand, wrist or the arm. The fact that I instantly wrench myself free of his grip and give him a venomous look is totally lost on him. After this happens three more times, I leave to read the onboard passenger list, which sometimes has additional information about each passenger. If this guy has a major medical condition or some other issue we might need to know about, it would be mentioned on that list. There is nothing specific stated about him, but I find out his name.

The next time I walk past him, he grabs me, by the arm this time. I wrench myself free even though he is hanging on for dear life. I can feel his bony fingers reaching for me again. I step away from him momentarily and then I kneel down in order to face the man at eye level.

In a soft, yet firm voice, I tell him, ‘Mr. Blumfeld, my name is Danielle. I am a flight attendant, not a piece of rope you can grab as if you were trying to descend from a mountain. Have you flown on an aircraft before?'

He is initially confused, but eventually says a hesitant ‘Yes'.

‘Would you like to fly on an aircraft again?' I ask.

He nods.

‘Then, let me give you some helpful advice about how to treat people, not only on the plane, but in the entire service industry. You are not allowed to touch people. It is against the law. Do you understand that? I trust you won't do it again. Now, what can I help you with?'

Mr. Blumfeld does comprehend although he doesn't seem overly embarrassed. I know that if someone just pointed out to me that I was in fact breaking the law and behaving inappropriately, I would be mortified. I don't think he is particularly dangerous or even knows that his behaviour is unacceptable. I just think he is odd. Some people's unusual behaviour is often not deliberate, but done more out of habit, thoughtlessness or the fact that they don't know any better. I decide to give Mr. Blumfeld the benefit of the doubt.

There is a male flight attendant I have flown with a number of times who I refer to as a ‘close talker'. He stands extremely close and looks disturbingly deep into your eyes when he speaks. When I first flew with him he made me feel very uncomfortable. What he was talking about was in no way offensive, but his presence made my skin crawl. Even when I would back away from him, he would step forward and move in closer.

He obviously does not know how uncomfortable he makes people feel. It is not just me, but almost everyone who comes in contact with him has the same reaction. He is actually a softly spoken and empathetic man, but the fact that he fails to realise that he makes people comfortable and doesn't bother about modifying his behaviour accordingly does make me suspicious of his character. I'd like to think that if there were flaws in my personality (and I know there are) that made others feel uncomfortable around me, I would be smart enough to address the problem. The smartest people I know are not perfect. It is the realisation that they are not perfect and the subsequent changes they make to fix themselves that makes them smart.

While I am in a claustrophobic's nightmare, Helen is in a claustrophobic's dream. There is no one beside her, and no-one in front of her, and the nearest passenger is a good-looking TV star. She has not stopped grinning since she came onboard. She has had champagne, a dining experience befitting her new ‘Your Majesty' nickname, and has had Ronn Moss say hello to her. I think if the aircraft turned around now, and she didn't even get the chance to go to Hawaii, she would still be over the moon.

I sneak up the front of the plane every now and then to check on her. Most times I just stick my head around the curtain, but even from a distance I can see her contentment radiating like a beacon. It's best that I let her savour the experience in peace.

At the back of the aircraft, we are not full, but we are still kept busy. The meal service goes smoothly although Mr. 48C is being quite the drama queen. So much so that he has refused to eat. Ever since Damien put him in his place, he has been seething.

Damien and I are on a cart together, and Damien actually politely offered a meal to the man, but the little man turned his nose up and looked away. I never understand why some disgruntled passengers refuse to eat and drink in protest over the most inane of issues. Is the airline or the crew somehow going to suffer dramatically over these people's hunger strike? Of course not.

Drama queen issues aside, Damien is actually a lot of fun to work with on the cart. His sarcasm may not be everyone's idea of funny, but I certainly am entertained.

A young couple in the very back row of the cabin have obviously not travelled much before. The young man is trying hard to impress his girlfriend, and when Damien asks them if they would like a drink, the young man asks, ‘Do you have a cocktail list?'

Damien, without missing a beat, replies, ‘Certainly – I will just go and see Isaac. He is our chief bartender on the promenade deck.'

The young man thinks Damien is being serious. He is also way too young to get Damien's reference to Isaac the bartender from the TV series ‘The Love Boat'. Well, I'm (almost) too young to get the reference myself.

To Damien's credit he doesn't ridicule the young man in front of his girlfriend, so he explains, ‘I was only joking about the promenade deck, but I have committed the complete cocktail list to memory. Would you like me to make you one of my specialties? I call it champagne cocktail surprise.'

I later thank Damien for being so nice to the couple and for going back to the galley to actually make them a cocktail.

When I ask him what was in the ‘champagne cocktail surprise', he whispers, ‘Sparkling wine, orange juice and my surprise ingredient.'

He keeps me in suspense for a little longer before telling me that the surprise ingredient is just more sparkling wine.

Meanwhile, the man in 48C still looks like he is sucking on a piece of lemon. We know it is not the last we will hear from the little man. We also know that since Damien won the last round, it will be another crew member who will have to take the brunt of the little man's fury. That crew member will be me, of course.

Mr. 48C makes sure Damien is not around before he stops me and unleashes his anger on me. He rants about the alleged rude treatment that he has been given by Damien. I let the little man narrate it all to me, while I stand there, pretending to listen to him patiently.

‘Sir, thank you for bringing this to my attention,' I say when he's done. ‘I was only a few rows away and actually saw and heard everything that happened between you both. As I understand the situation, you complained about how cold the cabin was and while the flight attendant was trying to explain the normal operation of the onboard air-conditioning system, you interrupted him and actually used a profane word that I cannot repeat now. The flight attendant then went to check the said air-conditioning with both the onboard manager and the captain. The system was functioning normally and the flight attendant had the foresight to bring you an extra blanket.'

The little man is just about to interrupt me but I cut him off before he can, ‘Now please let me finish, sir. Both the flight attendant who gave you the blanket and myself heard you swear, and swear quite loudly. You do know that it is an offence to use abusive language or profanities on an aircraft? We have instructed the onboard manager of your unacceptable language, and at this point a report will not be made and there looks like being no repercussions.'