Call Me Stewardess

by Elizabeth Landry

  I was relieved. One of the announcements was completed at last! Now, I really had to snap out of it as to not make the matter worse and make a fool of myself. I went on to close the overhead bins and make the necessary moves to reunite my Spanish lady with her ill husband.

  Things seemed to be looking up and I went to the back of the plane for a glass of water before takeoff. At the back, Megan was talking to Edith about a trip to Peru. Normally I would have been the first to jump into such a conversation, but this time I didn’t feel like it. I had other matters to worry about. So I drank my glass of water and went to sit on my jump seat.

  Once seated, I tried my best not to make eye contact with the passengers in front of me. I could feel them staring but I simply didn’t feel like striking up a conversation. I had to stay silent to review not only my emergency security procedures, but also my own concerns. This short moment was mine and I didn’t intend on letting a bunch of curious souls invade it. I blankly stared at the far corner of the ceiling. Then I looked at the back of the cabin and directed my gaze at the carpet in the aisle. Then I turned my head toward the window to take a look at the runway. Bottom line, I was looking everywhere but in front of me.

  We were still moving on the runway but the captain hadn’t yet made his takeoff announcement. I’d probably have to feign indifference for a few more minutes. I continued blankly staring at my surroundings, expressionless. From the corner of my eye, I could see the lady seated in front of me observing me. She had already been staring at me for at least three whole minutes. I could feel her indecisiveness and knew she wouldn’t control herself much longer.

  Just like I predicted, she rested both her hands on her knees and leaned forward as an attempt to catch my attention. Seeing her leaned at a forty-five-degree angle, I had no choice but to politely look at her. She called out to me.

  “So yeah . . . Do you sometimes stay in other countries?” she asked, happy to finally be able to ask me her question.

  “Yes, when we fly to Europe, we always stay over for at least one night,” I explained with a gentle smile.

  “Yeah, must not be an easy job, huh?” she added.

  “It depends on the flight and the passengers,” I answered, not offering any more detail.

  “And . . . you’re not scared of turbulence? Did you ever get a big air pocket?” she continued on.

  My ears suddenly started ringing. The infamous air pocket myth! If only I had a dollar every time I got asked that silly question. I suddenly got the urge to explain to the woman how silly her question was. Air pockets don’t exist! An aircraft doesn’t move forward in the air and then suddenly cross a hole with no air in it! Air is everywhere. The Earth is surrounded by it. There are only warm and cool air currents, just like in the ocean and its many swirls. I settled on simply reassuring her.

  “No, ma’am, I’ve never encountered severe turbulence, only light, which is absolutely normal,” I assured her.

  “Ah!” she finally concluded, and looked out the window.

  I then heard the captain’s announcement and we took off flying.

  ◆◆◆

  Two minutes into our ascent, Barry started the endless announcements again. I grabbed my white binder and looked for the section called After Takeoff. With my eyes locked on the few lines I had to read, I started stressing out again. I could see the lady in front of me carefully watching. This time, I hoped I would sound professional and unravel the safety instructions in an impeccable Spanish. Barry finished his part. It was my turn.

  “…les pedimos que permanescan sentados con el cinturón de seguridad abrochado hasta que la…” I stopped abruptly.

  What was going on? Never had I hesitated to pronounce this word in the past. It was very simple to say. SEÑAL! I repeated internally. S-E-Ñ-A-L! I practiced it again, before pronouncing it out loud. By that time, I was beet-red out of embarrassment. I sounded like a student attending her first language class. Something was truly affecting me, more than I could have imagined. I finished my speech, stuttering, and swore to myself that I would make sure to put an end to this humiliation as soon as the seatbelt sign was switched off.

  A few minutes later, I was allowed to get up. I had to go to the back to get started on my duties but instead, I walked up to the front to speak with the chief purser. Barry was still seated on his jump seat and was going through his stack of documents. Seeing the look on my face, he immediately jumped up, worried about me.

  “Poor Scarlett! You’re white as a ghost. You’re not feeling well, are you?” he asked, concerned.

  “No, Barry, not at all!” I confided in a panic.

  “Is it because of all the damned announcements? Are they stressing you out?”

  “No, it’s something else. But it affects everything else. I can’t keep on making a fool of myself like that in front of the passengers. It’s as if I have forgotten how to talk!”

  “Listen, I must admit that your announcements today aren’t quite up to standard, so don’t do them anymore. I won’t write it in the flight report,” advised my savior.

  “Oh! Thank you! You’re taking a huge weight off my shoulders! I promise tomorrow will be better,” I confirmed, relieved, and then immediately returned to my duties.

  I was truly unsettled. Seeing how confused and clumsy I was, Megan had taken it upon herself to work twice as hard. During meal service, she made sure to be working on the side of the cart with her back to the passengers, allowing her to serve ten passengers while I served only three. I didn’t recognize myself. Why was this flight putting me in such a state? I had to speak with Becky as soon as possible. Only she could help me with my sickness.

  After landing, I absentmindedly waved good-bye to my passengers. I was really looking forward to talking things through with my best friend. My mind was set on calling her, wherever she may be. Once the aircraft was empty, I grabbed my suitcase and dragged myself outside. Megan, out of support or perhaps out of pity, waited for me and stayed with me all the way to the crew bus, making sure I made it all right.

  “You’ll see, a good nap will make you feel better. Then we can meet up for a pre-drink. Sangria will sort you out!” she encouraged.

  “Ah! Thanks, Megan. That’s so kind of you but, honestly, I think it’s best I stay alone tonight,” I graciously answered.

  I couldn’t believe what I had just said. To spend the night alone in Madrid? I normally always wanted to share delicious tapas with my crew. This city was meant for partying. Strangely, though, I no longer felt like it. I wanted to think about things and speak to Becky as soon as I could.

  When we arrived at the meeting point, the rest of the crew was grouped up behind the van. One at a time, they handed their suitcases over to the driver so that he could strategically place them in the back compartment. I, in turn, gave him my suitcase and entered our means of transportation. Once seated, I inserted my headphones into my ears and let my mind drift away with the melody. I finally had time to think. What a great pleasure it is to finally set my thoughts free! I told myself. Looking out to the stony mountains along the way, my uneasiness finally subsided. My little heart was feeling better. Hope was filling it and it was beating strong again.

  I opened my handbag and reached for my flight itinerary. I unfolded it and read the overwhelming inscriptions again.

  AMERICAIR 144 New York (JFK) – Dublin (DUB)

  Captain: JOHN ROSS

  AMERICAIR 419 Dublin (DUB) – Boston (BOS)

  Captain: JOHN ROSS

  Chapter 18

  Madrid (MAD)

  I had just gotten out of the shower and had put on my gray comfy sweatpants. Fatigue was making me shiver. I opened the door to the balcony to let some warm air into my room. I could hear the Madrid life getting busy outside. I loved the sound. It wasn’t quite siesta time but some storekeepers were already shutting their doors. I could make out the grinding sound of the panels sliding down in front of the stores’ windows. A few friendly conversations made their way to my e
ars. These echoes were priceless and I had arrived at the hotel just in time, as the Spanish siesta was about to begin. I could then follow the city’s rhythm. I would call Becky when I woke up. As for the rest, the city would take care of giving me back the energy I needed.

  When I opened my eyes, it was already six p.m. Sleep was trying to pull me back in and was very tempting, but I had to get up. Actually, hunger had woken me up and I felt like going for a walk. But first, I wanted to talk to Becky. I sat on the edge of the bed, took my cell phone out, and opened Skype. I called her on her cell. A European ringtone was heard. Becky didn’t answer . . . I thought she was back at home. I had to talk to her.

  I looked through my documents in case I had taken note of her schedule at the beginning of the month. I thought I had. I finally found a hardcopy in the front pocket of my suitcase. I looked at it and noticed that she was in fact going back to Boston tomorrow. She had landed in Toulouse just as I had landed in Madrid. Maybe she was at the hotel, getting ready to go out for a meal with her crew. I found the phone number of the hotel she was staying at and dialed it.

  “Le Novotel Toulouse, bonsoir!” answered the receptionist in French.

  “Hi, yes, bonjour, I’d like to speak with Becky Henson, please.”

  “Yes, bonsoir, madam! Who would you like to speak to?” she asked, somewhat confused.

  It must have been due to my English, which she didn’t fully understand. I repeated my request.

  “I’d like to speak with Becky Henson, please. She is part of Americair’s crew,” I said, carefully pronouncing every word.

  “Okay. Just a moment, madam, I’ll transfer your call. Good-bye!” she answered.

  The phone started ringing again. No one answered. It kept ringing. Maybe she was in the shower? Still ringing. After a while, I gave up and hung up. She must have gone out. I’d try calling again later.

  I quickly got dressed and stepped out onto the balcony. The narrow streets were packed with people. The city was awakening again and the sun hadn’t even set. It was still considered early; restaurants hadn’t reopened. Therefore, I had plenty of time to go for a walk through the city before finding a cozy spot.

  I started by heading toward Puerta del Sol, which is Madrid’s equivalent of Times Square, where everyone meets up to celebrate the new year. Each street in the area is more vibrant than the next. I then went across, toward Plaza Mayor. I was trying to stay focused while walking, to avoid getting lost. I was also firmly holding on to my handbag, aware of the many pickpockets in the area.

  I crossed the grand square and made my way to the La Latina neighborhood. When I finally arrived where I wanted to be, my mind was still cloudy. I entered a charming café-bar and ordered an ice-cream flavored mojito. The server nicely put it in a take-out container for me and I went back outside to sit on a bench for a good dose of people-watching. My first sip was one of the most delicious taste experiences I had ever had in my life. Mint ice cream was mixed with two or three ounces of dark rum. Surprisingly, with every sip my head was getting clearer.

  What are you gonna do two days from now, when you see John again, huh, Scarlett? I wondered. I had dreamed of that day hundreds of times, imagining myself softly kissing him. And then, the image of his face had slowly faded away. I had even been convinced that my handsome pilot had been nothing more than a fleeting fantasy, a thing of the past. But, lies! Seeing how much his name had troubled me on the last flight, he had definitely gotten under my skin. Why me? I couldn’t fall for a married man!

  I was now halfway through my mojito. Hunger could be heard in my stomach. I got up and headed back to the street I had taken to get here. I had noticed many tapas bars on the way. As I made myself comfortable on one of the six wooden benches close to a taberna counter, I was still thinking about him.

  Scarlett, you said that if you were to see him again, you’d definitely make a move, and now you no longer want to? I questioned myself. True. After Barcelona, I had started to forget about John. However, I had sworn that if we were to cross paths again and he still made me feel the same way, I’d act on it, even if it meant betraying some of my principles.

  Scarlett, things have changed since then! You can’t put yourself first. You’ve met his wife! said the angelic voice in my subconscious, reprimanding me.

  Who cares about her! She pretty much jumped down your throat on the plane. Follow your heart, Scarlett. Think about your needs! commanded a more evil-sounding voice in my subconscious.

  The voices kept spinning around in my head. They were in complete disagreement. My tiny angelic voice wanted me to be reasonable and fair, asking me to ignore my emotions. As for my evil voice, it was directing me to jump at the opportunity and finally be selfish; that my personal pleasure was important. I didn’t know which was right.

  Do you think John will want me? I asked.

  He didn’t do anything last time, in Barcelona, even though he had the chance to in the elevator. He won’t do anything this time either, Scarlett. You’re fooling yourself! stated the angelic voice.

  Wake up, Scarlett! John was dreaming about having you in his bed. He was devouring you with his eyes in Paris, and in Barcelona. If he looks at you the same way again, that’ll be your sign and you’ll have to seize the opportunity, commanded my evil voice.

  I was confused. None of it was helping me think clearer. I ordered a glass of red wine and a couple of tapas before continuing my examination.

  But why isn’t it up to him to make a move? If he wants to cheat on his wife then he should come on to me! I stated to the voices in my head.

  Scarlett, that man has good values that he simply doesn’t want to steer away from. He has children and is a responsible father. He will never make the first move. He hasn’t even thought about it, explained the angelic voice.

  What?! John has definitely thought about it! Look at you, you’re gorgeous! Make the move, my dear Scarlett, and you’ll see, you won’t be disappointed. That man is just waiting for it! And that way, he won’t be able to blame himself, as he will not have deliberately provoked anything, explained the little devil inside my head.

  The evil voice was starting to truly win me over. It was pulling me into debauchery. Very real images of John and I laying together in bed were suddenly appearing in my head. I took a big sip of red wine, gobbled up a piece of ham and cheese, and continued my analysis.

  But, if I decide to come on to him and he welcomes my advances, I will have encouraged a married man to cheat on his wife! I thought, outraged.

  Exactly, Scarlett. And you don’t want to live with that for the rest of your life. There are enough men in the world to avoid stealing one from another woman, pointed out my protecting angel.

  Excuse me! If something ever happens between John and you, well, it’ll only be because your captain will have given you free rein. You won’t have twisted his arm. So, you won’t have to deal with any guilt! then pointed out my little demon, winning the argument.

  I had my answer. I wanted to live through the strong emotions that the simple thought of him gave me. All my worries and fake anticipations were pointlessly messing with my head. My mind was now set. My heart would tell me what is best for me. I got up, paid my bill, and returned to the hotel.

  ◆◆◆

  As soon as I entered my room, I jumped on my phone and opened Skype again. I needed a pep talk and knew that Becky was the best person to give me one. She must be back in her room by now, and I was risking waking her up. I dialed the number to her hotel again. A man answered.

  “Le Novotel Toulouse, bonsoir!” he said.

  “Bonsoir, monsieur, may I please speak with Madam Becky Henson?” I politely asked, pronouncing very clearly as to not be asked to repeat myself again.

  “Yes, certainly. I’ll transfer your call now, madam!” the man confirmed.

  “Well, merci, monsieur! Good-bye!”

  I was looking forward to speaking with Becky and getting her blessing. This time, she picked up the phone. />
  “Hello?” she said sleepily.

  “Ah! Sorry, Becky! Did I wake you?” I asked, genuinely sorry to have interrupted her sleep.

  “Who’s this?” she asked, still unaware of who was calling her.

  “It’s Scarlett! You know, your roomie!” I let out.

  “Scarlett? Why are you calling me here? Is everything okay?” she asked, with a hint of concern.

  “Yes, yes, all good. I’m calling from Madrid. I’m worried about something and would like your opinion. But if you’re too sleepy we can talk tomorrow when you get back,” I stated, not wanting to disturb her night.

  “No, no! I had just gone to bed. The flight is leaving late tomorrow. I have all the time in the world. What’s going on?”

  “Well, tomorrow I’m flying to New York and the day after I’m operating a flight to Dublin, and then back to Boston,” I said, pausing to gather my thoughts.

  Just thinking about it made my earlier uneasiness reappear. Perhaps it was due to the large, too large, amount of alcohol I had ingested? Becky wanted to know what I was getting at.

  “Yeah, so what’s the issue with your schedule? It’s nice. Direct flights, that’s great,” she assured me.

  “No, no, the flights are nice. That’s not what I’m worried about,” I clarified, so I wouldn’t mislead her.

  “So, what’s the problem?” she persisted.

  “Actually, my handsome captain is going to be on my flight from New York to Dublin and will be spending the night in the hotel with me.”

  “No way! So, you’ve agreed to see each other again and he’ll sleep in your room? Wow, Scarlett, that’s awesome!” she exclaimed, overjoyed.

  “No, Becky! Let me start over. John will be the captain on my flight and the whole crew will be staying at the same hotel. He will have his room and I will have mine,” I explained to avoid further confusion.