Galley Gossip: Flight Attendants Walk off the Plane

by Heather Poole on

“Why in the world did you bid that!” I asked my mother, who is also a flight attendant (yeah, I know, it’s a bit of a freak show over here), when she told me about her nightmare trip from New York to Miami. “I haven’t worked that route in years.”

The New York to Miami flight is by far one of the worst trips to work if you’re a flight attendant, which is why, I imagine, when it comes to seniority, it tends to go a little junior.

“It looked good on paper,” my mother said, who is not all that junior, even though she is junior to me. And then she went on to tell me all about the irate passenger who freaked out when she, my mother, also a flight attendant, asked the passenger to put her very large purse (not that size matters) in the overhead bin, a purse that was lying on the floor in the bulkhead row, the same bulkhead row the flight attendant making the announcement kept referring to in her PA, the one that distinctly states carry-on items may not block aisles or exits and may not be placed on the floor at the first row of each cabin.

“You’ve got to stop working those flights!” I said, interrupting yet another story about another irate passenger. How many were there you ask? I lost count. I was too stressed out just listening to her talk to pay attention.

Really, I do not know what it is about that particular route that makes it so unenjoyable to work, but the New York – Miami crowd is tough, which is why I stopped working that flight as soon as I had enough seniority to hold something else, something better, something good, something flying west like San Diego, Seattle, Los Angeles, or San Francisco – simply put, something with a lot less drama. I take pride in being nice and polite to my passengers. I actually enjoy providing a good service. But that’s not always so easy to do from New York to Miami. Trust me, those flights can get ugly – very very ugly! And since I don’t do ugly, not anymore, it’s off to another destination for me.

Hey, just being honest here. That’s all

With that said, imagine how unsurprised I was to hear about the New York – Miami flight on Sunday night where the crew refused to work the flight due to the hostile environment. Apparently the crew was late to the gate. No where does it mention WHY the crew was late, but they could have been late for several reasons, like a late inbound flight they were working, or perhaps the original crew went illegal and this crew was called out at the last minute, who knows, but whatever the reason, they arrived on the scene over an hour late and passengers booed and things just got ugly.

Trust me, it takes a lot to make the crew walk off an airplane. I’ve never seen in it 13 years. Flight attendants, for the most part, are pleasers, which means they would never do anything that would put their job in jeopardy (like walking off a flight), so that hostile environment must have been pretty darn bad, much more hostile than you and I could ever imagine. And so they walked.

Of course I can’t help but wonder how far those flight attendants walked? Did they just walk off the airplane and go to flight operations or did they actually go all the way home? And more importantly, did they ever come back?

Honestly, if this were any other flight going to any other destination, I wouldn’t believe what I was reading either. But this was a New York – Miami flight, therefore I believe, I truly believe that things got so bad the flight attendants broke down and disappeared. Something tells me you might actually see those flight attendants still walking, walking in a daze down the side of the road, a rag tag bunch wearing navy blue polyester and pulling their Travelpros behind them. Poor things. So if you happen to see a worn out group of four or five dressed in blue, show the love and honk your horn!

BEEP BEEP!

And while you’re at it, go ahead and show the love to all of your flight attendants! And we’ll show the love right back. Happy travels to all and to all a good flight.

Galley Gossip: Airline Bashing, bringing the world together

by Heather Poole on

“So what do you do for a living?” asks…oh…whoever it is asking that day, which on this day happened to be a client of my husband, a very important client with a very impressive job.

“I’m a flight attendant,” I say with a smile.

The two second pause, that’s usually the initial response from the person asking the question about my job. During this never ending pause, I always find myself holding my breath, because the pause is always followed by one of two responses, and nine times out of ten it’s not the good response.

  • The good response: Is full of excitement and ends with an exclamation mark. It goes something like this; “I’ve always wanted to be a flight attendant!” or “My sister is a flight attendant!” And always leads to a very nice conversation about travel, which then leads to other interesting topics related to travel.
  • The bad response: Always starts with the same four words, “On my last flight…” which is then followed by another pause, accompanied with a weird look, which of course leads to a very bad story about the last flight. Needless to say, the conversation usually doesn’t go so well after this. How can it? I’ve now been linked to the worst flight this person has ever had. No matter how well we’d just been getting along.

“Computers,” said a friend, and CEO of a well known watch company that I worked for thirteen years ago. “I always tell people I’m in computers and then they leave me alone. Try it.”

“Oh I hate telling people what I do for a living,” said Mark, a fellow coworker, as we stood in the first class galley of a New York to Los Angeles flight, a flight I wasn’t working. We were talking about the job, and what people tend to think of those of us who do the job, which is the main reason Mark hates talking about the job with those who work on the ground.

Flight attendants aren’t the only ones who dread talking about it. On a flight a few years back, when things weren’t nearly as bad as they are now in the aviation industry, a super 80 co-pilot once confessed, “I never wear my uniform outside the house. I don’t want my neighbors knowing what I do for a living. When I get to the airport I change clothes.”

“Really?” I asked the first officer who, at the time, seemed a little…well…weird. I mean this was a pilot – A PILOT! Something to be proud of.

Now, years later, I often think of that guy when I’m dressed in my uniform and not on the airplane, the guy who may not have been so weird after all. Perhaps somehow he knew something about the future of aviation we could not imagine back then when things were…well…good, even though back then we still didn’t think things were all that great.

Like most flight attendants, I miss the good old days, but I still love my job, even if I’m selling sandwiches down the aisle and constantly apologizing because we don’t have this and we don’t have that to a full flight of miserably cramped passengers. Otherwise I wouldn’t do it. I certainly don’t have to do it. Really, I don’t. I want to do it and I like doing it. Which is why I’m going to tell you something I told my husband five years ago while we were seated across a dimly lit table from each other on our second date. I won’t quit. Ever! Oh yeah, I’ll be one of the ones using the drink cart like a walker forty years from now. Why? Because I love my job, remember? So it’s a shame that talking about the job has become such a sore spot with so many people.

“You’re the new whipping girl,” said Margo Candela, one of my few friends who does not work at 35,000 feet for a living. She said that after I had told her how people usually react when I tell them I’m a flight attendant.

“Whipping girl?” I repeated, because this was news to me. I’d never been called that before. In fact, I’ve been called everything BUT that, so whipping girl sounded nice, for a change, and also kind of exciting. “Whipping girl,” I said again, because I just liked saying it, and couldn’t stop saying it, as I imagined myself, the girl, actually holding the whip, as I stood in the aisle surrounded by passengers. “So what do you mean, exactly, by whipping girl?” I asked Margo, even though I had a pretty good idea what she meant, which I knew wasn’t at all like what I was fantasizing about.

“What I mean,” said Margo, the writer. “Is nowadays the dislike for airlines and ticket prices are the only thing people can agree on. It brings the world together. Trashing airlines, customer service, you name it, is a fairly safe and enthusiastic topic of conversation. For instance, I won’t talk religion or politics with some people, but airline complaints are fair game.”

It was an ah-ha moment. Everything Margo said made sense. And guess what, she actually made me feel better, so much better, in fact, I could go on with my day and face whatever negativity that might come my way with a first class smile on my face.

So go ahead, say what you like about me, my job, my coworkers, it’s okay. Because we’re doing great things with our lives. Yeah, I said it, great things, people! I mean how many of you are actually bringing this crazy mixed up world together by creating a unified hatred not based on religion, race, or political belief, but by working in an industry that’s struggling just to stay afloat? I mean who would have thought that one job could spark so much emotion? From so many people. And from all walks of life!

Now seriously, why can’t we all just get along?

Please!

Because we’re all stuck in the flying tube together.

Galley Gossip: Flight attendant vacation – Venice (Cannaregio)

by Heather Poole on

You’ve thought about going to Venice. Come on, admit it. Don’t deny it. Of course you immediately talked yourself out of it, considering you absolutely detest crowds and tourist traps. Yet Venice, you must admit, does look magical, like the kind of tourist trap you should see at least once in your life. But the problem is you can’t stand crowds and tourist traps. And that’s a problem. A very big problem.

For me, too!

When a flight attendant takes a vacation, the flight attendant will do everything possible to avoid anything that resembles a layover. Layovers equate to work. Yeah, I know, work ain’t so bad when you’re laying over someplace nice, but at the same time, laying over somewhere nice usually means you’re at a chain hotel surrounded by chain restaurants, not too far from the airport. Of course, life could be worse, I know. But when you’ve been doing the layover-chain-thing for thirteen years, it doesn’t matter where you are – New York, Paris, Rome – it all starts to look the same. Which is why a flight attendant looks for something different, someplace unusual, somewhere special, when it comes to a vacation – wherever that vacation may be.

When I went to Venice in May, I stayed in Cannaregio, otherwise known as the Jewish Ghetto. You don’t have to be Jewish to stay in the ghetto. And don’t let the word “ghetto” fool you, because this ghetto, is unlike any other ghetto. It’s amazing. And quiet. And tourist free. Okay fine, as tourist free as a tourist trap can be.
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I knew Cannaregio was the place for me when I read in Frommer’s Italy 2008 the following…
“It’s outer reaches are quiet, unspoiled, and residential (What high season tourist crowds, you may wonder?) One third of Venice’s ever shrinking population of 20,000 is said to live here…”
So where, exactly, did I stay in Cannaregio? See that picture on the right? That’s where. At the hotel Ai Mori D’Oriente, a small Turkish hotel located on a quiet canal, just a fifteen minute walk from the Rialto Bridge. Where did I eat? When we weren’t enjoying the complimentary breakfast of fresh fruit and salami and ham on a crusty roll at the hotel (the husband was in heaven), or the pizza, anywhere pizza could be found, which was pretty much everywhere, we’d go wherever Guido, the concierge at the hotel, suggested.
“You want something rustic, some place not too much money, someplace I’d go?” he asked, looking at my heavy travel book with disdain.
The husband and I nodded frantically, as I placed the 2008 edition of Frommer’s Italy back in my bag. It was a big bag.
Not once did one of Guido’s recommendations let us down. Especially the night we visited Osteria Ai 40 Ladroni (right down the street/canal from the hotel) where I found myself sitting at a candlelit table under the stars, beside a quiet canal, surrounded by other tourists looking for something not-so-touristy, immersed in a small plate of heaven – gnocchi with crab smothered in a delicate tomato sauce.
Did I just use the word delicate? I did. It was delish!
I don’t need to remind you that Cannaregio is in Venice, not too far from everything you ever wanted to avoid. Yet won’t. Because even that is a must see. But then, as soon as you’ve had enough (which won’t take long), it’s back to the ghetto for you, where all of the other tourists who don’t like tourists find themselves. On your brisk walk back to the hotel, make sure to run into a loaf of crusty bread, a bottle of olive oil, a hunk of cheese, and half a pound of salami at the local grocery store, the store where you see that little yappy dog staring intensely into the window. Trust me, this will be one of the best (and cheapest) meals you’ll ever experience. In your room. Away from the crowds. Don’t worry about all those calories, you’ve already burned them off walking from San Marco Square back to the peace and quiet. And yes, you really do need to experience Venice. At least once in your lifetime. For the gnocchi alone.

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?