Call Me Stewardess

by Elizabeth Landry

  “You’re just twenty-six, Becky, you’re younger than Scarlett and you’re far from being as demanding as her. You dated a few guys who didn’t open doors and they weren’t idiots. We met them and they were actually quite nice,” added Paige.

  “And it didn’t work out, did it!” Becky exclaimed, cutting off Paige.

  “Calm down, Becky. We’re just trying to figure out what’s wrong with Scarlett,” snapped Rachel.

  The latter then turned toward me to continue her interrogation.

  “If all you want is a gentleman, why do you still refuse to meet my handsome cousin? He opens doors and has been single for over a year,” she said, clearly trying to play matchmaker.

  “Because he left his wife even though they had a kid together! That’s why!”

  Did I really just say that? I had never expressed my opinion on the matter whenever Rachel had talked about her cousin Mark. I would simply try to avoid the subject altogether. I knew the story and didn’t adhere to it. He had cheated on his wife many times with many different women. She had never had a doubt. And then one day, he left her. And that’s the reason I could never date that Mark guy. I would be the most jealous woman ever. Why would a man be faithful to a girl he barely knows when he couldn’t even be faithful to the mother of his child? I had decided to keep my thoughts to myself, but Rachel was on a mission.

  “Okay. For me, that’s being demanding. You just turned twenty-nine, soon you’ll be thirty. Men our age have a past, Scarlett. Anyway, even if you were to keep all of your mysterious criteria, how do you intend on meeting someone when you’re always on the go? Is that what life is about, traveling?”

  Rachel had never put me down as much as she was putting me down that night. Why was she so adamant about having me date someone, anyone? Was being single so pitiful? It must have been, because Paige settled on simply nodding along to this confrontation. Becky was beside herself, sitting straight up, her eyes ready to pop out, and her cheeks on fire. She was angry, and was probably hoping I’d end this annoying discussion once and for all.

  “Okay, girls, that’s enough! Mind your own business, won’t you? I’m demanding! I was in a relationship for five years in case you forgot! I do not turn away good guys. I just need to meet one of them at the right time. I’m ready to wait. At least I found MY dream job and it makes me perfectly happy. At the very least I love my job. If your perfect lives filled with diapers suit you, good for you. But I don’t try to lecture you, so don’t you lecture me!”

  I couldn’t believe what my friends thought of me. They had known me for so long. They should have known that I had always loved to travel and that my life was much more fulfilling since I had become a flight attendant. How could they suggest that I was better off finding a boring job just to allow a new lover in my life?

  “Chill out, Scarlett, that’s not what we meant. Anyway, as far as I’m concerned, I just wanted to say that I don’t believe in one great love and that sometimes it’s worth giving someone a chance,” Paige softly advised.

  But how could I follow Paige’s advice? She who had never really given anyone a chance and had met her husband eighteen years ago. They had loved each other, had become good friends, and through time had become comfortable so had simply settled. Unfortunately, love didn’t seem to be part of their relationship anymore. So, I still preferred to dream of my one Great Love. I thought that, if worse came to worst, the Great Love that my future lover and I would share might become just love, normal love.

  I didn’t feel like trying to bring them to their senses. Paige and Rachel lived in another dimension from Becky and me. However, I still wanted to clarify the matter.

  “Girls, I understand the way you see things. Rachel, you met your boyfriend online. It’s one way of doing things and I admire you for it, but for me, choosing a boyfriend from a menu doesn’t suit me. I don’t believe in it. I found a job that I love. The man of my dreams will appear one day but I do not intend on going hunting for him just for fear of ending up alone. I remain persistent with my requirements. Sorry.”

  All of a sudden, they were very interested. They asked what the said requirements were. They finally seemed open] to knowing and understanding my point of view. Becky, who already knew my secret list, raised her eyebrows, urging me to unveil my big mystery. If I wanted my friends to stop judging me, maybe I had to reveal some of the selection criteria I held dear, so I continued.

  “To be honest, even though you believe that being single at my age is shameful, I still believe I’m better off alone than in bad company. Since we’ve started working on a plane, you have no idea how much individualistic behavior Becky and I have witnessed among couples. Frankly, I wouldn’t like to have to carry my baby along with all the luggage while my boyfriend easily makes his way to his seat. Just like I wouldn’t like him to carry it all by himself either. A couple is a team and we should always help and be considerate of each other. On the surface, Rachel, maybe your cousin Mark is incredibly charming and opens doors, but that kind of courteousness can be learned. Just because a guy opens a door doesn’t mean he’s less of an individualist. What I notice are the small gestures that betray us, the ones we make unconsciously and show our true colors, such as disrespect and inconsideration for our loved one. I wonder if your cousin Mark would hand over the glass of Pepsi to his girlfriend?”

  “What are you talking about?” wondered Paige.

  The fact is the girls didn’t know the games Becky and I sometimes put our passengers through for a bit of fun. It all began subtly, without us realizing, but then we started noticing some of the actions continuously made by the male passengers and we wanted to test to see if other men would act the same. I asked Becky to explain the simple test, assuming that if she supported the theory, Rachel and Paige might finally be open to understanding my point of view. Becky took over.

  “All right, it’s a test we call “The Pepsi Test for the Gentleman.” Like Scarlett nicely said, we had never thought about testing our passengers but they were the ones signing up for the experiment and we took a liking to it. Now, when we both work on the same cart and a passenger meets the prerequisite, we start the observation. The theory rarely fails.”

  “So far, I quite like the name of your revolutionary theory, but what is it exactly?” interrupted Rachel impatiently.

  “It’s simple. We state that men from our generation, future candidates in Scarlett’s love life, are generally less considerate toward their ladylove than older men or than Spanish, Italian, and French men, for example,” stated Becky.

  “It’s a bit harsh for a theory but I must admit that guys our age are less likely to pick up the bill at the restaurant,” mentioned Paige, who suddenly seemed to be leaning on our side.

  “And how do you test your guinea pigs? I don’t think Americair would be pleased to know you are making little experiments in the air,” joked Rachel, who was also amused by our simple theory.

  “Well first of all, we test them without them knowing. The only way to do so is while we serve them. In order to perform the experiment, we need to choose the right candidates. First, the candidate must be a man and he must be accompanied by a woman, whether she’s his girlfriend, wife, or even his mistress; it doesn’t matter. Then, the candidate must be seated next to that woman. He must be the one seated closer to the aisle, making his friend the one farthest away from the cabin crew. Finally, the couple must order the same drink.”

  “I understand all those requirements but what does Pepsi have to do with courteousness?” asked Rachel, who couldn’t get her head around the whole story.

  We had to clarify, so I developed further.

  “Imagine you and your boyfriend are on the plane. And I’m your flight attendant. I approach with my cart and stop at your row. Your boyfriend’s name is Jonathan, just like in real life. He is obviously a man, so officially meets the first criterion which states that the candidate must be a man. CRITERION #1 MET! Then, you are together on the plane. Whether you a
re married or common law, I don’t care. He is traveling with you, that’s all that matters. CRITERION #2 MET! You, Rachel, have the window seat and Jonathan is next to you, closer to the aisle. CRITERION #3 MET! When I approach with my cart to offer you a drink, I look at the both of you and ask what you’d like. You unanimously answer: two glasses of Pepsi. CRITERION #4 MET! There you go, Jonathan is eligible! Therefore, the test may occur,” I proudly explained.

  “What if I only drink water?” Rachel joked with a mischievous grin.

  “Whether you drink water, coffee, or whatever, the point is Jonathan and you drink the same thing. Otherwise, it’s disappointing but the experiment doesn’t work,” I rectified.

  “Okay, okay, I was kidding. Go on! What horrible act will my boyfriend do?”

  “This is when he will prove his true nature,” I added, matter-of-factly. “After you’ve asked me for two glasses of Pepsi, I pour the first glass. As I am standing in the aisle, it is much easier to hand it to the person seated closest to me. Therefore, the person seated close to the aisle inevitably gets the first Pepsi, seeing as he is more accessible. Moreover, in doing so, I avoid spilling liquid on passengers. To me, it obviously makes sense, so I assume that, instinctively, everyone will understand and distribute the drinks accordingly.

  “Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to be the case for everyone, and especially not for your Jonathan. I give him the first glass of Pepsi. I give it to him because he is sitting close to the aisle but also to test him. I evaluate the consideration he shows for his lovely Rachel. He undoubtedly loves you but does he really know you exist?

  “Well, looks like he doesn’t! Your boyfriend takes the first glass of Pepsi in his hands but doesn’t pass it on to you. He keeps it for himself. That glass was meant for you, the lovely far-away lady. While Jonathan dips his lips in the ice-cold Pepsi, you still don’t have anything to drink. At last, at the risk of hitting your dear lover’s head, I spread my arm toward you to serve you the second Pepsi. And so there you go, your boyfriend just failed the Pepsi Test for the Gentleman. So, tell me, Rachel, would you like to be with the Jonathan I just portrayed?”

  “Of course not! But my boyfriend is not like that. I find it harsh to think that if a man doesn’t hand over a glass of Pepsi you won’t give him a chance in love,” answered Rachel, who, once again, couldn’t see the big picture behind the experiment.

  “Did I say that? I’m just sharing the observations that Becky and I have made. It’s a silly example to show you how much men today seem to be self-centered and that is why I do not wish to waste my time on some of them. On a small scale, it’s just a glass of Pepsi and it doesn’t really affect anybody, but in society or in a relationship, to only think about yourself can cause big damages. I keep clear of that type of man because I am looking for love, I’m not looking to fool around with the first guy I see seated on an aisle seat.”

  “That test is ridiculous, Scarlett. Anyway, I love my Jonathan the way he is,” she threw back.

  Obviously, she didn’t get it. I had just told her I chose her boyfriend as an example to help picture the situation. I suddenly no longer felt like talking. Becky noticed my withdrawal so took the opportunity to steal the show and entertained the girls with stories of her dates with millionaires.

  She started by explaining how she met Damien, her wealthy French magnate. On a layover in the City of Light, she quietly sat with a book at a Parisian café and he had simply come and sat next to her. Becky had that mischievous look about her that attracted men. Her piercing gaze and full lips had people naturally drawn to her. Damien was forty-five and very handsome. He treated her to champagne all night. They talked about anything and everything. It was pleasant, and before they parted he had offered to take her on his yacht anchored in Cannes. For Becky, this was a golden opportunity. She accepted the invitation and a few weeks later was living the dream, for a few days at least, with a stranger who happened to own a huge yacht by the Mediterranean. I admired Becky’s boldness and I wasn’t the only one. Paige and Rachel were totally engrossed in her story.

  “Wow, Becky, I can’t believe how open you are. What a story! To be open in life, that’s what’s important,” confirmed Rachel, who was obviously giving me a hint.

  “How did you know that man was nice?” asked Paige, terrorized. “You could have been raped or killed!”

  “You’re right, but from the second we started talking, I knew he was a good man. He was as gentle as a dove. My instincts don’t lie and, so far, I’ve always had a reliable intuition.”

  Becky was convinced by her statement, and she wasn’t wrong. The week she spent in France has been amazing; nothing went wrong. Listening to her explain the unexplainable trust she felt toward Damien from the very beginning, I let my thoughts drift a bit. I was also convinced that today I had felt the same toward the handsome pilot. I couldn’t explain how I knew, but I was persuaded. My instincts told me that John, my handsome captain, had a good heart. I didn’t know if he was a gentleman and I didn’t mind. I was attracted to his energy and I couldn’t explain why. At that moment, lost in my thoughts, I sincerely hoped that I’d soon get the opportunity to confirm my theory.

  Chapter 5

  Zürich deadhead Paris (ZRH dh CDG)

  I spent the following days hanging out at home. As a flight attendant on reserve, even though I was getting paid for a minimum number of hours of flying, I did not get called for the rest of the month. I was ecstatic as I didn’t have to work the hours and still got paid for them. However, in a way, I still would have liked to fly some more in case I ran into my mysterious pilot. Actually, I was starting to twiddle my thumbs by staying put, as being on call meant I had to remain available and ready to go. I couldn’t stray too far from the apartment because if I got called, I had to be able to make it to the airport within three hours or less. February went by pretty quickly and I ended up flying a bit more in March. I even got called to operate flights from New Orleans for a whole week.

  I like that city and its people. Maybe it’s the musical vibe, or even the French influence, but I feel better there than I do in many other places around the world. Some places are just charming to some people. For example, a few colleagues of mine hate Madrid. They prefer Barcelona, and I can easily understand why: It’s by the sea and thanks to Gaudí, the architecture is incredible. I like that city too but I prefer Madrid for its eternal day- and nightlife, its smell of cured ham, and all sorts of reasons I can’t even explain. It’s simply indescribable. The city’s aura rocks my world, without a doubt. Just like Madrid, falling in love cannot be explained, it just happens.

  ◆◆◆

  Just like that, after a winter filled with same-day flying back and forth, summer and its long-haul flights abroad finally arrived. For the first time in three years I got a schedule with fixed flights. I would finally know in advance where I’d be going. I could make plans and have a life! It was far from the typical Monday to Friday, 9-to-5 routine, but I could still plan activities in advance, knowing what days I’d be away. By having a schedule, I could even exchange flights with colleagues. For example, if I was only assigned flights to London and a colleague wanted a London and I a different destination, I had the opportunity to slightly tweak my schedule to my liking.

  That’s precisely what Becky had done in May in order to fly with me. We had never flown together, so to celebrate the arrival of our first fixed schedules, she had swapped a flight to come along with me to Paris, via Zürich. Simply put, we were operating a flight from Boston to Zürich, Switzerland, then we had to hop on a TGV train to the City of Light. Just like flying as a simple passenger, this is also called a “deadhead.” We would sleep in Paris, France, the following night and operate a flight back to Boston.

  It was a series of flights spread over three days but in reality, we were only going away for some forty hours or so. We were due to leave at six p.m. on the Thursday, would arrive in Zürich just before seven a.m., and had to immediately hop on a train. Our
arrival in Paris was meant to be around eleven a.m., the perfect time for a satisfying nap before enjoying a good meal, without the need to rush. All was well.

  In order to be able to work together on the plane, Becky had chosen to fulfill the tasks assigned to the back, right-hand-side position of the aircraft. Therefore, in the event of an emergency, she was in charge of opening the back door, on the right-hand side. She also had to sit on the jump seat accordingly at takeoff, landing, and during any turbulence. As for me, I had chosen to look after another door on the right-hand side, the one just above the wings. That way, I could work with Becky but would also watch over the whole cabin during boarding. Only I, with the help of my counterpart on the left side, was in the main cabin, readily available to help the passengers. Becky would look after the passengers seated at the very back, in the aircraft’s tail. What bothered me about all this wasn’t that I was surrounded by passengers but rather what the position required of me. I must admit that I wasn’t delighted about some of the assigned tasks.

  During boarding that morning, I was standing in the middle of the cabin with my counterpart. I didn’t know her and was hesitant to chat. I didn’t really know what to say apart from asking some basic questions.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name,” I said to break the ice. I had sincerely forgotten, a mere ten minutes after being introduced. I always had the embarrassing habit of forgetting the name of people I was speaking to when meeting them for the first time. Thankfully, my colleague didn’t seem to mind.

  “Ah, don’t worry about it! My name’s Nicole, and you?”

  “Scarlett,” I answered, happy to see she didn’t remember my name either. “Have you been with the company long?”