Galley Gossip: Italy: Prepare for takeoff.

by Heather Poole on

“Want to go to Italy?” The husband asked.

“Umm…I don’t know…Yes. As in YES YES YES!” I exclaimed. And then I added, “But I’m not flying standby.” Because I wasn’t. And I was ready to stand my ground.

“Yeah, well me neither,” he said, and that was that.

When The Husband and I decided to go to Italy on our vacation last month, we actually purchased our tickets, even though I can fly standby for free. Why? Because we wanted to go to Italy, remember? We actually wanted to make it to the land of wine and cheese and olives and pasta and prosciutto served with a loaf of crusty bread.

What we didn’t want to do was get stuck sitting around an airport for days praying that two people wouldn’t show up for their flight. Oh no, we wanted to get fat from drinking wine and eating cheese and olives and pasta and prosciutto with a loaf of crusty bread in Venice, Rome, and Positano. Not from cheeseburgers and pizza at the JFK food court. And not only did we have plans to eat our way through Italy, we also planned on getting back home when the vacation came to an end. Oh the joys of stand-by travel…

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Because The Husband flies over 100,000 miles a year, we were able to use his frequent flier miles to bump us up to business class, where you can usually find me working. Did I happen to mention this was a dream trip, a trip we’ve been planning for years, a trip that was supposed to be our honeymoon trip five years ago things got screwed up and we wound up in Playa Blanca, a teeny tiny town near Zihautanejo. The war had just broken out and someone was afraid to travel too far from home for fear of getting stuck, since that same someone had gotten stuck in Zurich with her mother for two weeks immediately following 9/11.

Okay okay, so there are worse places to get stuck than Zurich, I know, but when you’re a flight attendant and make a flight attendant salary, it’s very easy to go broke on cappuccino and croissant alone. Though there are worse ways to go broke, I guess.

The best part about actually buying a ticket on a flight, opposed to standing-by for free, is that you get to choose your seat. A window seat, that’s what I chose, and that’s exactly what I got. Man, I couldn’t wait to get on that airplane. And sit. Not work. And watch movies. As others worked. While I sat. Not working. I did mention that this was my dream trip, right? Oh yeah, trust me, that’s part of the dream. I couldn’t wait to take off from JFK at dusk, my favorite time of day, and look out my window, camera in hand, from a business class seat. Not the jumpseat. I couldn’t wait to see a breathtaking view of New York City. Not the first class closet. Or the business class galley. Or the nasty coach carpet. Or the flight attendant sitting next to me. No offense to the flight attendant sitting next to me, whoever that flight attendant may happen to be. I couldn’t wait to….oh you get the picture. Speaking of pictures, here’s a few from our flight from New York to London, where we transferred to another flight that would take us to Venice.

Galley Gossip: Airline for sale!

by Heather Poole on

This is it, people, your chance to buy an airline, because Volare Airlines, an Italian low-cost carrier, is now up for sale – again!

What’s that? Not enough money you say? Why don’t we all pool our money together and buy…oh I don’t know…maybe just one of the airplanes. We can each buy a seat. And since we’d only own one airplane, we can call our small little airline MY PLANE. That means when someone asks, “what airline did you travel on,” you can then say, “My Plane,” and mean it, because it is your plane, as well as my plane.

We’ll take votes and fly the most popular route once a day. But the real beauty of owning My Plane is this…I would…I mean WE would get to design it from the bottom up. Just the way we want. And because we’d only want the best for My Plane, which is also your plane, I’d like to make a few suggestions..

After reading all 754 comments from my post Flight Attendant Pet Peeve #1, Answer Please! it’s apparent we should only hire flight attendants from one of the Asian carriers. Why? Passengers, at least the ones who commented on my post, seem to love them. Hey, what’s not to love about an airline that hires flight attendants who are all the same uniform size – small. That makes complete sense – one size uniform for the one and only airplane. Forget equal opportunity, we make the rules at this airline! And while we’re at it making those rules, how about we only allow one size of passenger onboard – small of course, which will help save fuel. As you know, saving on fuel is the name of the game these days. Which is why that small passenger can only bring onboard one small bag and place it under the small seat. The small flight attendant will then serve a small meal to the small passenger with the small bag under the small seat and…wait a minute…we’re not talking about us, are we? I think we are. We’re the ones traveling on My Plane, remember? So scratch that. But we can still steal a few of those Singapore Airline girls, but make them funny, like the good people at Southwest Airlines.

Of course we’d have to include Virgin’s beauty therapy services on My Plane. Trust me when I tell you that I’ll be the first one in line for a manicure and massage. Yes, I know, I am working the flight, but don’t forget, when the flight attendant is happy, the passenger is happy. Or is it the other way around? I can’t remember. I’m too numb from my massage to remember. But all you need to remember is that you’re getting all this for Jet Blue prices. Could it get any better?

As for the flight attendant uniforms, personally I’d like to go with the Air France uniform. Have you seen it? Hello – can you say LOVE IT! As in Love it – Love it! As in there aren’t enough “love’s” in a sentence to possibly describe how I feel. That’s how much I love it. Seriously, if the airline I currently work for now had to merge with another airline, can we please please please merge with Air France! Please. Not that I want to merge. No flight attendant wants to merge. Not when seniority is involved. Because seniority, at an airline, is everything. More than everything. But if I HAD to merge, well that uniform might be kind of nice to merge into. Since it’s My Plane, and my uniform, it’s all about me, on My Plane. Oh and you, too. I guess.

What kind of food would we serve? That’s easy. Cathay Pacific, I hear, has the best food in the industry. At least that’s what The Husband once wrote via email from a Cathay flight. Let me tell you that email was long, and dedicated strictly to food. Apparently the food on Cathay is THAT good, as in two pages of email good. And who doesn’t want good food on a flight? I know I do. Which is why I always bring my own from home. When I can remember to bring my own from home. Which isn’t often. Since I don’t cook, that much, from home. Not since the husband made me promise never to cook again. Anyway, you know it’s all about the food on a flight, right? I mean isn’t that what you look for in an airline when you’re booking a trip? Of course it is. Otherwise you wouldn’t be complaining so much about the bad food. Or lack of food.

We should really go with Virgin Atlantic’s cabin interior. Neon florescent red and blue lights glowing throughout the cabin are definitely a must. Especially on a red eye flight. They scream HAPPY! Why, because you’re happy, happy to be on My Plane! Which also includes Virgin’s in-flight seat to seat chat. I wonder if that chat extends between passengers and flight attendants? If so, that means you can leave home without your stealth secret sound amplifier, the one you bought from Skymall, the same one I mentioned in my last post, the top five skymall gifts for the frequent flier (that’s you!) and just text me your drink order. Wouldn’t that be nice? And perhaps we could chat a little. Really get to know each other. Oh wait, you see someone cute oboard? Me, too! Just send that person a little text and don’t forget to add your seat number – in case that person happens to be wearing a very sophisticated blue uniform and wants to slide you a drink on the house for umm…ya know…for being so nice and all.

So whadaya say…should we go for it?

Galley Gossip: The top five Skymall gifts for the frequent flier

by Heather Poole on

Wearing your stealth secret sound amplifier, you board the flight (finally!), stow the bag in the overhead bin directly above your seat (YES!), stash the reading material and the bottle of water in the seat-back pocket in front of you (you did remember the bottle of water, didn’t you?) and breathe a sigh of relief because miracle upon miracles, there is no one seated in the seat beside you. Smiling, you think to yourself that this flight might not be so bad afterall. But then, you begin to feel anxious, as a long line of passengers slowly begin filing past your seat. While you hold your breath, chanting to yourself, please don’t sit by me, please don’t sit by me, you are unable to concentrate on the bug vacuum pictured in the Skymall magazine that your fingers are now flipping through, as you continue chanting, please don’t sit by me, please don’t sit by me, please don’t sit by me.

Ross Wolinsky wrote on Cracked.com about the 5 most ridiculous things to buy in the Skymall catalog (and Jamie later wrote about here on Gadling), which forced me to ask the question: are the items offered for sale inside the catalog really all that ridiculous…or are they just plain genius? One of the “ridiculous” things Wolinsky wrote about didn’t seem all that ridiculous to me. I mean what’s so ridiculous about the stealth secret sound amplifier? Personally, I find it to be intriguing. And I wonder, does it really work? Because if it does, I wouldn’t mind owning one. And if you owned one, too, you could sit in your uncomfortable seat in coach and focus on all the racy things being said behind the closed curtain in the back galley, instead of on the seatmate who, right before the aircraft door was shut, plopped down in the seat beside you. Thirsty? You can ask me for a Coke without ever having to ring your call light, or leave your seat, and I’d be able to ask you if you’d like ice with that Coke, and we’d all be happy. Like the good ole days.

When I told The Husband I had planned on writing something about Skymall, he laughed, shook his head, and said, “That catalog is ridiculous.”

What The Husband doesn’t know is that his red Jumpin Jammerz, a pair of giant footy pajamas, came from the Skymall catalog. So when I think of the word ridiculous, it’s not Skymall that I think of, it’s the sight of The Husband on Christmas morning running around the house chasing after a two-year old who just so happened to be wearing the exact same thing. Ridiculous…or adorable? You decide.

Personally, I have found a lot of great things in the Skymall catalog. Take for instance the bark free dog barking control machine. Man, I’d like one of those when the neighbor goes out of town and leaves the howling Beagle behind. (How much was that thing again?) Or how about the upside down tomato garden? When you live in LA (or NY) and you don’t have a whole lot of grass in the backyard, because you don’t even have a backyard, this is the item for you. Or was it me? And did you happen to see the litter robot, which keeps the kitty litter clean while you’re out of town? Let me tell you, my cat Gatsby would absolutely love that! And the kid, he’s got his eye on the fold out basketball game. That picture actually kept the two year old aspiring hoop star quiet in his seat on a flight from Los Angeles to New York for a good twenty minutes, as he pointed and smiled and said “Basketball,” over and over and over, allowing me to close my eyes, lean my head back against the seat for a stress free twenty minutes. I mean if the catalog can keep The Kid quiet for any length of time, Skymall, in my book, rates genius, not ridiculous.

Looking to buy a gift for that frequent flier in your life? Here are my top five Skymall gifts for the frequent flier:

1. LED lighted reading glasses: Why? Because you’re on a red eye flight sitting in a middle seat in coach and GREAT, JUST GREAT! The flight is full and the reading light above your seat doesn’t work. FIGURES! You’ve got twenty pages left to go in a really great book and you’re dying to find out what happens at the end. Man oh man, you are never going to fly this airline again. Now don’t you wish you had those LED lighted reading glasses?

2. Gripmaster – Because you’re still in that middle seat, and the flight attendant wasn’t able to fix the dang light, and now the two idiots on either side of you are hogging the armrests. Not to mention you’ve already seen the in-flight movie and the flight attendant, the one who didn’t have a spare light bulb in her apron pocket, ran out of food AND Club soda before she even reached your row. Not only are you never going to fly this airline again, you’re going to write a letter! Well never fear, the gripmaster is here! So now you can stop grinding your teeth and transfer all that anger away from the paper, the one the flight attendant didn’t have to give you!

3. Stress relief wrist band – Nothing has changed, in fact, the flight has just gotten worse, because now the two idiot seatmates hogging the armrests are snoring, and one of them is actually resting his big ole head on your shoulder. You ring the call light – again – and summon the flight attendant – again – who, after dealing with you several times already, is now wearing some sort of strange device on her wrist. Be nice and she may just let you borrow her stress relief wrist band.

4. Skyrest travel pillow – That’s it! Now the kid in front of you won’t stop crying! And you need to get some sleep because tomorrow you have a big presentation. You rip the stress relief band off your wrist, chuck it over the seat in front of you, climb over your snoring seatmate, knocking his elbow off the armrest, and stomp back to the galley where the flight attendants are hiding behind a closed curtain. Snapping back the curtain, you glare at the flight attendants, who don’t even see you glaring because…what the! They’re fast asleep on the jumpseat! With a skymall magazine in one hand, gripmaster in the other open hand, LED eyeglasses resting on the bridge of their nose, stress relief wristbands wrapped around both wrists AND ankles, snoring away like your two seatmates with their heads resting oh so gently on a cushy Skyrest Travel pillow. What kind of freakin airline is this! You rip the dang pillow away from one of the lazy flight attendants and stomp back to your awful seat.

5. Travel toothbrush sanitizer – You awake from a horrid dream about a miserable flight and stumble into the bathroom. After you splash cold water on your face, you reach for your toothbrush that has just been sanitized by your travel toothbrush sanitizer. Because there should be at least one sanitary thing in your disgusting hotel room. I mean your entire trip doesn’t have to be a bust, does it?

Ridiculous…you tell me.

GALLEY GOSSIP: Oh stewardess!

by Heather Poole on

“Excuse me, stewardess – I mean flight attendant!” is something I actually still hear from time to time on the airplane, and that mistake is usually followed by a blush or a giggle, and if the person is elderly, an explanation as to why he or she had just called me stewardess, which usually begins with, “Back in my day…”

Well back in my day we actually served warm rolls in coach along with three entree choices. And we handed out a diverse selection of magazines before the flight even took off. And we could actually enjoy the layovers by eating, showering AND sleeping. We even had pillows and blankets for everyone! Though don’t forget, ticket prices were expensive. But that meant flights were empty, so there were window and aisle seats galore, resulting in smiling happy passengers! That was just thirteen years ago. Perhaps back in your day things were even more different, and by different you know I mean better, a whole heck of a lot better. My how things have changed. I’m not just talking about your flying experience, I’m talking about the stewardess and passenger alike, because the stewardess isn’t the only one that’s gotten a little older and crankier over the years.

When I think of a stewardess, I think of the glamour of days gone by, which are days I never got to see, the days of luxury travel, white gloves, pill box hats, and piano bars on a 747. So when someone calls me a stewardess, I am not offended. Not. At. All. In fact, just the opposite happens. I’m flattered! I mean who doesn’t want to be a stewardess? Trust me when I tell you that we – me, her, maybe even him, and perhaps you! – have dreamed about living the life of a stewardess. Minus the age, weight, and marriage restrictions of course! Yeah, I know, that life is long gone.

But a flight attendant can still dream, can’t she? If that doesn’t work, she can always go to a Broadway show, because on Broadway, this summer, that beautiful, yet unattainable dream still lives, regardless of high fuel prices.

Boeing Boeing is a play about an American living in Paris who is juggling three women, all of whom are his fiancée. How can one man juggle three women, you ask? Easy. You make sure each woman is a stewardess from a different airline. Then you consult a timetable as if it were a bible, marking each woman’s scheduled layover. But as most of you already know, schedules can change and flights get delayed, resulting in turbulent chaos.

I hear the play is hysterical. I’m dying to see it. Maybe you should too. So next time you find yourself fighting for the armrest, cramped in a middle seat, sitting in the last row of coach, as the cranky, sleep deprived, and hungry, flight attendant stops the beverage cart at your row, waves a napkin and barks, “Drink!” Do yourself a favor and go see this play. For me. And you, too, can relive the good ole stewardess days. I know I’d like to.

Galley Gossip: Stew Shoes (the search continues…)

by Heather Poole on

Ever wonder what flight attendants talk about in the galley behind closed curtains? Oh I bet you do. Most days you’d probably be sorry you asked. For real. It can get a little crazy back there. But recently I had a conversation on-board a flight that was tame enough to share, a conversation that I think all flight attendants at all airlines would be interested in hearing, and it started out something like this..

“I’m sorry,” said Diane, my fellow coworker, as she sat on the jumpseat and quickly looked over her shoulder into the dimly lit coach cabin to make sure no one was listening. No one was listening. No one was even there. All of our passengers were actually in their seats with their seat belts fastened. Most likely because we’d already finished the last beverage service of the night, the in-flight movie was just about over, and in less than an hour we’d be touching down in Los Angeles (And on our way to the layover hotel.) That’s when Diane leaned in close and half whispered, “But I just can’t bring myself to do it.”

“Oh my gosh, me neither!” I exclaimed, hopping off the jumpseat in order to grab a glass of water for a passenger who’d stumbled smack dab into the middle of our conversation. I smiled. He smiled. Diane smiled. We all smiled. And then he thanked me for the water and disappeared. Sitting down on the jumpseat closest to Diane, I added, “Don’t get me wrong, there are times when I wish I could do it, really I do, but I can’t. I just can’t do it. I don’t know why.”

We began giggling when the super cute one with the bleached blond hair dressed in navy blue polyester pants and a starched white button down shirt sauntered into the back galley with a full bag of trash in hand, because he had, in fact, actually done it. He’d done what Diane and I could not bring ourselves to do. Not in this lifetime. What the heck did he do? The Dansko clog of course!

In case you haven’t been on an airplane in the last ten years, the Dansko clog is to the flight attendant what the Tumi bag is to the frequent flier. Next time the beverage cart makes a stop at your row, go ahead, take a look, I bet they’re there. They’re everywhere! Just not on my feet.

What happened to be on my feet the night I found myself giggling away with Diane on the jumpseat in the back of coach on a 767 was a brand new pair of shoes that, after one six hour long flight, had turned out to be a huge mistake killing my feet. They needed to be replaced. And fast! So, once again, the search for the perfect flight attendant shoe began. It’s been ongoing for years. Thirteen years to be precise.

All I want is something cute enough to wear through the terminal and comfy enough to walk up and down the aisle, that’s it. But that, I have to say, as most flight attendants already know, is next to impossible to find. Oh I’m done with the whole high-heel-change-into-a-flat thing. Done carting around an extra pair of comfortable shoes in my already overstuffed tote bag that I have to change into as soon as we hit our cruising altitude . I mean all I want to do is put on a pair of shoes before I leave the house and be done with it. That’s it. I’m over it.

Which now brings me to three distinct types of flight attendant shoes (for women) I’ve encountered working the line over the years…

THE NEW HIRE HEEL. These clickity clackers can be seen from miles away, because they’ve probably been paired with a skirt that’s just a tad bit too short, as they strut through the airport terminal. Trust me, there is no freakin way these babies can work a flight, which is why they’re usually the opening act for the Dansko clog. Yes, this is the flight attendant fantasy shoe – for men. (And I’m not just talking about the men in drag.) Add another inch to this heel and these, to me, scream available! At least on the airplane they do, because in real life I…well…maybe, sort of, kind of, like them…kind of, maybe, sort of. Okay okay, so I actually own a pair (or two), so what! I only wear them hidden under a long jean. Not on the airplane. Nor in the terminal. Why? Because they say, “is there anything else I can get you, sir?” (Wink Wink). They belong to Cockpit Connie. Not you. Or do they belong to my flight attendant friend Steven? Or was it me! Jeez, I can’t remember.

THE OVER IT SHOE: Those of you who do not pick up trash at 35,000 feet for a living probably think this shoe belongs hidden behind the cart, or in the back of a closet, or at the bottom of a trash bin, and you’re probably right, but ever since our work days have gotten longer and our layovers have gotten shorter (layover, what layover?) this is the shoe for me. Remember, I’m over it, and because I’m so over it (the shoe, people, not the job!) I can’t even properly explain it. In fact, I don’t even know if it can be explained, whatever it is I’m trying to explain. Or perhaps I’ve just been flying too much.

THE SENIOR MAMA LOAFER: Can you say retire already so I can finally get a little seniority and fall off the reserve list before I’m 50. Seriously people! Believe it or not, the person who now wears these sensible comfy loafers once wore those sexy white patent leather go-go boots with a hot little mini skirt. She did. Really she did. And maybe, just maybe, he did, too. Hey, you never know. So when you see a pair of these tired looking loafers walking down the nasty carpeted aisle, remember where they’ve been. What they’ve seen. And all the things they’ve done. (That you haven’t. And never will.) And don’t forget to aways – ALWAYS – respect the loafer!

What will I be wearing on my next flight? Check out these babies from Beautiful Feel, which I purchased from The Walking Store earlier this week. No, they weren’t cheap, but if they can make my feet feel beautiful while I’m picking up trash at 35,000 feet, feeling oh so not beautiful, I’ll pay whatever it takes. And more.