“Mom, it looks like you’re pitying me because I’m single. But I’m fine with it, so stop trying to set me up with everybody. Okay?” I finally let out, almost screaming.
“I’m sorry, Scarlett, I’m not pitying you. I know that nowadays kids settle down when they’re much older. It’s just that I thought the young man looked interesting. Don’t you agree?”
“No, he’s not my type,” I declared, not wanting to go into more detail.
“Ah! How come? You barely know him. He’s very charming and I think you’d make a nice couple,” she stated, disappointed that I didn’t appreciate her suggestion.
Mom was stubborn. If I didn’t mention the reason I wasn’t into my friend’s cousin Mark, she’d work at it all night long. It was my party and I wanted to enjoy it, so I presented her with the facts.
“He was married, he has a child, and he cheated on his wife many times. That’s why!” I declared, tired of continuously hearing about that Mark guy.
“Oh! I didn’t know that! I would never let you be with a guy like that. A guy with no honor, no values, no heart . . . ”
Oh dear! What had I done? I knew very well that Mom was easily outraged by such infidelity stories. I had started a huge fire, which I now had to put out.
“All right, all right. They’re not all the same. Mistakes happen. Mark is probably not a good guy, I agree, but still, I believe in getting a second chance in life.”
How could I even say that? I, who was always fidelity’s biggest advocate, was talking about second chances? Moreover, I wasn’t putting out the fire, I was feeding it.
“Ah, Scarlett! Really? There is no second chance when we chose to marry a woman and have her children. We own up to our decision and take responsibility for our actions. A family isn’t a disposable object with which we can have a little bit of fun. We can’t get rid of it the way we get rid of an old sweater!”
Her arguments were strong. And mine, weak, boneless. I didn’t know what to respond but didn’t have to as my father came to the rescue. He burst through the door.
“Agatha! We can hear you from the other room. Enough! Leave Scarlett alone. It’s her birthday, you know. We’re leaving anyway,” commanded my dad, sternly looking at my mother.
Dad often behaved that way. He would let my mother criticize me until the situation got out of control, then he would intervene. Yet, not too long ago, I adhered to my mother’s philosophy. In fact, I didn’t understand my sudden willingness to broaden my horizons . . . Come to think of it, I knew exactly where it came from, but I didn’t want to admit it. Not now, anyway.
Once my parents were gone, I caught up with my friends and started drinking merrily. Mark tried his best, and in vain, to start another conversation. And then, a few drinks into the evening, I finally admitted to myself the reason of my contradicting opinion and of the argument with my mother. Deep inside of me, hidden away somewhere close to my heart, I knew the reason. And it had John Ross written all over it.
Chapter 16
Aboard the aircraft – Puerto Plata (POP), Dominican Republic
Sometimes, reality can be difficult to face. I often hear passengers complain once they’re on board and returning home after their vacation. They curse the upcoming Monday and bless the all-inclusive hotels. For the majority of them, staying on one of the many beaches in the Caribbean all year long would be a dream come true. According to them, then and only then would they finally find happiness. But there’s also a tiny minority of passengers who truly appreciate going back home. They’re happy to get back to their little piece of heaven, which they wouldn’t trade for the world. They look forward to seeing their dog, their children, and even to getting back to work on the following Monday. Bring on Monday morning! they say.
Among all of the different types of passengers, there are also the ones who manage to find excitement out of anything and everything. They are a surprising bunch, mostly because of their uniqueness, but above all because they really make you think and take a look at yourself. Some even succeed in awakening desires hidden deep inside yourself. And that’s precisely what a peculiar passenger did on that day, flying back from Puerto Plata . . .
◆◆◆
It was April, and we were flying toward the United States. The previous months had been extremely busy. Still without enough seniority to spend a few days down south, I had been operating return flights all winter. At least, though, I got to be home every night and didn’t have to deal with jet lag. I knew that long-hauls were just around the corner, so I didn’t fret over it too much.
I had even managed to maintain a pretty tan just by sitting on the steps outside the aircraft for a few minutes during the short breaks was had on the ground. Sometimes, on the return flights, my cheekbones would get a bit blushed, giving me a similar look to the one adorned by all the sunburned passengers.
On that day, a passenger caught my attention. Her complexion was black, red, brown, and white. All at once! I couldn’t understand how I hadn’t noticed her earlier.
I was busy serving drinks and, from my side of the cart, was facing passengers. Therefore, I had a panoramic view of the cabin and the hundreds of heads popping up from their seats. I often took that opportunity to get a feel of the mood my dear protected ones were in. I would observe the creases on their foreheads, their arched eyebrows, or the tilt of their heads. Were they reading a book or watching a movie? Did they appear anxious or relaxed? But above all, were they burned or completely carbonized?
I relished in observing my passengers’ tans on their return flights from down south. I honestly thought I had seen it all but I was wrong. When we believe we’ve seen it all, we find out there’s always worse. Especially on an airplane. And on that day, that passenger was living proof.
I had just served the last passenger up to where my cart was located. I advised my colleague that we could move down, thus clearing a few more aisles for me to attend to. She moved backward and I forward. We stopped again and I turned to the passengers on my left, on the window side, in order to ask what they’d like to drink.
The passenger on the far end requested a glass of water. I then looked at the passenger in the aisle seat to find out what she wanted to drink. All of a sudden, I felt as if I was inside a horror movie.
“I’ll have a Pepsi,” she said.
I froze for a moment, taking in her request. How could this woman be asking for a Pepsi in such a calm manner? If I were in her shoes, I would have rushed onto the plane screaming for cold water, ice packs, dressings for my wounds, and loads of antibiotic cream. This passenger’s skin wasn’t just burned, it was “tanned,” carbonized, peeled, overcooked. Poor thing! I had no choice but to offer my immediate assistance.
“Pardon, ma’am, are you feeling all right?” I instinctively asked.
The woman lifted her gaze up toward me. This caused her neck to stretch up, altering its original position. With each movement, I could spot shreds of dry skin falling all over her nice black top. Like a snowstorm, but of dry skin, I thought. She appeared to be in a trance. She looked at me and flashed a big smile, showing off all of her teeth, most of which appeared somewhat decayed. How unlucky to have such bad teeth, I thought. And so, I took pity on her. She then expressed herself.
“Yes, yes, I’m feeling well. I just forgot to put sunscreen on,” she said, shrugging.
That last movement generated a new storm of dry skin, but this time the shreds were falling from her arms. I felt an urge of compassion for the man sitting next to her, by the window. Again, I made sure that my severely burned passenger didn’t need anything.
“A cold-water compress on your sunburn might help to subside it,” I recommended.
“Ah! Okay! Thanks!” she simply answered.
I immediately grabbed a small absorbing towel from my drawer and dropped a few ice cubes on it. I then sprayed a bit of water until it was damp and handed it to her. Amidst all the medical treatments, I was forgetting about her drink.
“
What would you like to drink, ma’am?”
“Do you have Pepsi?” she asked, uncertain.
“Yes, of course we do,” I confirmed.
I looked toward the top of my cart to grab an empty glass in order to fill it with Pepsi. It felt like I had taken an eternity to assist this one passenger. It was time to be efficient again. Just as I was about to open the drawer containing the sodas, my seriously burned passenger called out to me again.
“You really have Pepsi?” she asked.
“Yes, we do have Pepsi.”
“Like, real Pepsi?” she said, growing increasingly excited.
“Yes, Pepsi, like real Pepsi.” I reconfirmed.
What was so hard to understand? Was I speaking in tongues? In my cart, I had Pepsi. Real Pepsi by the official Pepsi brand. What could I have said differently so that she understood me right from the beginning? Actually, nothing. Absolutely nothing. The lady hadn’t lost her hearing. Nope! She was simply in love with Pepsi and happy to finally be able to have it again.
“Yeeeee! I’m so happy to finally be drinking Pepsi! Yeeeee!” she started squirming in her seat.
Her legs were swarming around while her arms were in hysterics. Mrs. Pepsi was literally going crazy. I couldn’t understand how a simple drink could make someone so thrilled. I had to investigate.
“Ah! I see that you like Pepsi. It’s been a while since you’ve had it, right?” I innocently asked.
“That’s right! I brought my Pepsi bottles to the hotel but ran out after a week. I had to drink the fake Pepsi at the hotel! Gross!”
Had I just heard the reason for her excitement correctly? I couldn’t believe it. And I had taken pity on Mrs. Pepsi and her rotten teeth. I now knew the reason for the cavities. Still a bit shocked, I had to play along, at least while I was serving her the cherished beverage. I quickly grabbed a can and started filling up her glass. My burned passenger was getting into a frenzy.
“Yeeee! Yeeee! Yeeeee!”
I had to say something. A kind word, so as not to appear to be judging her.
“Ah! This is true! Pepsi sure is tasty! Yum!”
It gave me the impression that someone was playing a dirty trick on me. But I quickly realized that it had nothing to do with a trick. I had just served a woman who had genuinely forgotten to apply sunscreen on her body, just like many others before her. Now that she was well roasted and relaxed, she was on her way back from an all-inclusive in the Dominican Republic, and she had just humbly admitted her love for Pepsi. As simple as that.
I was startled but strangely, her reaction gave birth to a revelation in me. My Pepsi, the one that I wanted to quench my thirst with, had already crossed my path. His name was John Ross. And so right there, standing in the aisle while serving Mrs. Pepsi, I swore to myself that one day I would at least try to get a taste of my own cherished beverage. If only for one night, so that I could finally be satisfied.
Chapter 17
Boston (BOS) – Madrid (MAD) – New York (JFK) – Dublin (DUB)
Transatlantic long-hauls had now started and I had already flown a few times to Paris and Barcelona. However, on this early June evening, I would be operating a six-day-long pairing. First, I’d be going to Madrid for one night, then would spend the following night in New York. The next day, I’d be flying to Dublin, Ireland, where I’d also spend just one night, in order to get back to Boston the following morning. It was a nice pairing as I would only be operating direct flights. I had been a flight attendant for four years now and had finally started to see nicer flights on my schedule. So I was pretty happy to go to work, and my new work conditions shot my energy levels through the roof.
Once in the crew room, I leaned my suitcase against the wall and proceeded to print my routing. I now knew how important it was to have a paper copy, as it included valuable details for each flight. That’s where I could find, among other things, exact departure and arrival times, flight numbers, names of the hotels we were staying in, as well as the names of each crew member operating one or many of the same flights. As soon as I had printed it, I quickly scanned through it. Suddenly, a particular piece of information startled me. So much so that I dropped the piece of paper. I was speechless. I had to inhale deeply, which is what I did. I picked up my flight itinerary from the ground, folded it in four, and put it safely inside my handbag.
I then made my way to the security checkpoint reserved for crew members. Strangely, while walking through the airport, it felt as if I had lost a few calories. My energy went missing. Shaky, I could barely set one foot in front of the other. After a whole minute, I finally made it to the two men dressed in navy uniforms who were keeping an eye on the people passing through. As if in slow motion, they both looked at me and uttered two simple words.
“GOOOOODDDD EEEEVVVEEENIIIING!” they said.
I was getting weak, ready to faint any minute. Had I been bitten by a poisonous snake somewhere in between the crew room and security? I knew very well that wasn’t the case. I barely managed to respond to the two men and then put my index finger down on the fingerprint reader. The green light switched on and I moved to the other side, to the international terminal.
I was only about ten minutes away from the aircraft. Not knowing how to get my energy back, I made my way to the ladies’ room. I needed to splash some cold water on my face. I couldn’t care less about runny mascara right now, I thought, and dipped my face in the icy water contained within my two hands.
A couple of purifications later, my fever had passed. I erased the black lines covering my cheeks, dried my skin, and reapplied whatever was necessary to regain some radiance. I made it to the gate at the appointed time.
When I got there, every other crew member was already on the plane. I was happy to see that I knew them all and wouldn’t have to make an effort to remember their names. My head was already high enough in the clouds. I took out my white binder, the one containing the passenger announcements. As we were flying toward Madrid, Spain, I was the designated flight attendant qualified in the country’s official language. Therefore, throughout the whole flight, I had to translate every announcement into Spanish. Normally, I enjoyed the task as it allowed me to put into practice the many Spanish classes I had attended in college as part of my International Studies diploma. However, that evening, the task seemed to me to be a huge chore. Hopefully I would snap out of it soon.
Boarding was launched and passengers slowly started to progress through the cabin. I was standing close to my designated door and had one hand on the jump seat’s headrest to avoid falling over. Still, I was staggering while welcoming my passengers. Suddenly, Megan, my colleague on the right-hand side of the plane, gestured for me to come assist her in the middle of the cabin. She was helping an old lady to her seat. I moved toward her, forgetting for a moment my obsessing uneasiness.
“Scarlett, I can’t understand a word she’s saying! She talks too fast! Can you please help me?” she asked, already on edge.
“Yes, yes, no worries,” I said, taking over.
I looked at the old Spanish woman hunched over in the aisle. She was wearing a knit cap, which she had probably knitted herself. She had a strong grip on her brown leather purse in one hand and a walking stick in the other.
“Disculpe, señora, se necesita ayuda?” I kindly asked.
“Sí! Claro que sí! Mi marido está enfermo y no estamos sentados juntos! No se puede!” she snubbed, angry that she wasn’t seated next to her ill husband.
The issue wasn’t really hard to resolve. I would wait for all passengers to be seated and would then make the necessary modifications to accommodate the lady. I just had to explain it to her.
“Well! No hay ninguno problema. Yo voy a . . . UH! Voy a . . . UH!” I hesitated.
What was happening to me? I couldn’t speak anymore! Impossible! I knew perfectly well how to speak the language! I made another attempt.
“Lo que queria decir es que… UH! And UH!” I repeated, embarrassed.
My u
neasiness had caused me to forget my Spanish skills. I was appalled! One minute from now I’d have to speak over the public announcement system and dictate the safety procedures to all the passengers. I just need to read one word at a time and it’ll be fine, I thought.
I sighed and got a grip of myself. After a couple more attempts, I managed to explain to the lady how I would deal with her problem and suggested she take her assigned seat in the meantime. She thanked me and positioned herself, hunched over, in the corner of the aisle. Then I heard the chief purser’s boarding announcement spoken over the speakers, in English. A sudden and uncontrollable stress swarmed over me and the back of my neck was drenched with cold sweat.
I ran to my jump seat and grabbed my announcements binder, ready to speak into the microphone. Barry, the chief purser, finally finished his speech. It was now my turn to speak. I took hold of the intercom and pressed the red button that would scatter my voice throughout the whole cabin. I was scared to talk. If I end up stammering like a novice, what am I gonna look like? I thought. There was no more time to think, it was my duty and I had to deliver. I went for it.
“Señoras y señores, les damos la bienvenida a bordo de este vuelo de Americair con destino a Madrid. En preparación para…” I stopped.
I was suddenly lost in thought. Once again, my mind was somewhere else. This is not a good time to think things through, Scarlett! Go on! Speak! I ordered myself.
” . . . el despegue, les pedimos que pongan su…” I stopped once more.
What a horrible announcement! I was most likely the worst reader my company had ever made the mistake of hiring. Moreover, the cabin was filled with Spanish people who seemed, for the very first time in my life, to be paying attention to me. I had to rectify the situation.
“… equipaje de cabina debajo del asiento delantero o dentro de los compartimientos superiors. No está permitido fumar durante el vuelo y las botellas deben colocarse debajo del asiento. Gracias!”
Call Me Stewardess Page 16