Rudimentary logic told me to accept my fate in working this flight. These good people deserved the best for every penny of their hard earned money they spent for their tickets. I reworked the beverage cart. I arranged the small glass liquor bottles making them attractive on top. I made the cart look a little nicer to be used as a secondary bar for the aft passengers, those who were unable to sleep. All at once I felt a presence behind the panel, behind me. I turned and glanced down to see a sheepish, funny looking little face peering up at me, standing in the aisle.
“Hola Capitan,” I stated to a small shy figure who I assumed was one of the children of the young Hispanics who had opted to move aft in the cabin. The dark shaggy haired lad turned his head, perhaps indicating it was his family fast asleep occupying two center aisles. Instantly I turned back to the service cart, I dug deep through the drawers feeling for a little plastic bag.
“Ah, this is it.” Holding up a plastic pair of junior pilot wings I saw the sleepy brown eyes of the child open widely. I stopped down and prepared the metal pin in the backside of the wings and was about to pin them appropriately upon his chest when I notice that he was wearing pajamas. “Yeah buddy, I wish I had my pajamas on, too.” Once the boy was pinned he glared at my flight wings pinned to my apron and slowly reached out and touched them. He smiled and I sent him gleefully off to his sleeping family. The boy hopped away joyfully installing himself firmly by his mother's side, lowering his head to rest.
I would make my rounds in the slumbering cabin then retreat aft. As I did I would always refocus myself by viewing the child's smiling little face. I began to relish the decision of being cast to the back of the plane where it was quiet. The side panel lights were placed on dim so that there was a shadow engulfing each cabin. The lit areas by the exits broke the darkness and provided guidance for those brave enough, and who had the energy to roam about at this late hour. I just sat at my jumpseat, listening to the deep whistle of the air beside me, just inches outside the metal fuselage. All that remained was the humming of the turbines in the tri-craft's engines as they sucked in the air, guzzling the jet fuel that is stored in the outstretched wings, allowing us to streak across the heavens. Suddenly the young child appeared before me once again. I wasn't sure if he needed anything or just wanted to see what I was doing. I believe he had become fascinated with me.
“Quieres una Coca?” I asked.
“He nodded his head in a jubilant response.
“Who’s your friend Eddy?” Startled, I rose and turned to see Tamlyn standing in the dim cabin lighting just forward of us. She walked over to the liquor cart to get a drink for a passenger.
“I'm not sure,” I responded. I turned to the boy.
“Cómo te llamas?” I ask.
“Javier,” he responded as he sipped his cup of Coke.
“There you go Tamlyn, my friend's name is Javier.” My fellow associate stood facing the forward section when she nodded for me to look. I could see the red light that signaled that a passenger was requesting the presence of an F/A. It was actually coming from a seat that was closer to the mid galley but the gals up front were in the service center. I supposed they could not see the aisle light or hear the tone indicating the need for assistance. I winked at my little Mexican friend and sluggishly turned and walked up the aisle; the angle at which a 10 flies makes the aft section the lowest point. Focusing in on the blinking red light to direct me to the appropriate row, I finally made out the backside of a gentleman who was nowhere near sleeping. His head popped about like a rooster gazing in all direction of the mid cabin. Once I appeared he released a burst of frustration before I could even fully turn to face him.
“It’s maddening not to mention creating a strain on my eyes. I want it fixed,” he demanded.
“Hey man, slow down, lighten up,” I wanted to say but his strained face indicated that I should be careful, work this matter with logic and concern to satisfy his needs. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience sir,” I babbled the usual protocol to get him where he would be receptive to my help. “Sir, there are plenty of seats in the aft, the back of the plane.” But the gentleman, who seemed to have a European accent wasn’t having any of it.
“Did you hear what I said? I want you to fix the blasted light.” As I gazed up I saw that his particular reading light was blinking off and on erratically. “Now, get on with it. I don’t care what you have to do to get it done.”
“I will contact the cockpit and see if they can do anything,” I assured him but really wanted an excuse to get away from his dictatorial behavior. Picking up the crew phone at 2R, I punched the proper keys of the coded sequence that insured that someone in the cockpit would answer, most likely the Flight Engineer who handles that duty. I gazed into the mid galley to see Cary in a happy mood sitting on a jumpseat talking to a figure seated opposite her but her face was turned away. I knew from her lovely profile that it was Reina. A tired sounding voice finally answered.
“Yeah?” I suddenly found myself unprepared as to what I wanted to tell him.
“There's a guy, midsection, having trouble with his reading light. Can you guys do anything about it?” I sounded foolish.
“Just have him move to another seat,” the aviator suggested then hung up.
“Hey, he ain’t gonna like that,” I whispered to myself. Of course the S/O gave me the most logical answer but would this guy be willing to endure the minor inconvenience? I slowly returned to the gentleman who had witnessed me talking on the aircraft's phone. I surmised that possibly he would be a little nicer concerning my efforts on his behalf, but I was to be proven so wrong.
“Sir, the Captain regrets that...”
“You incompetent oaf.” The passenger cut me off at the knees. “What seat can I move to? I’ve wasted enough time already,” he snapped, as he gathered his things and jumped up. I hopped back a step so as not to get trampled by this raving individual.
“There are plenty of seats in the aft section,” I reiterated. I stood silent as he hurried off into the darkness of the back section waving his hands in displeasure which I viewed as a receding silhouette. That night, I forced him to change locations on Flight 2605, and that fellow owes me a debt whether he would wants to admit it or not. Of course; no one had an inkling that there ever would be or could be a moment of any real danger, not on my plane, not on this night. I turned and gazed across the cabin looking forward. There was only one person on board who believed there could be unspeakable peril as my eyes focused upon Reina. I shook my head and retreated aft to my little sanctuary of peace.
Suddenly, a dark figure appeared in the aft service center, emerging under the aft galley lighting. I recognized the face as belonging to Skip, the fellow working the left side of the fuselage at 4L. I really didn't know him, nor had the opportunity to fly with him prior. It's funny how you see someone on flight after flight and then after years, finally fly with someone for the first time. Skip had thick wavy reddish brown hair with a nicely trimmed thick mustache and, I would find, he possessed an uncanny sense of humor.
“I'm glad you got to handle that guy,” he related as he witnessed the whole affair. In a sarcastic voice he stated, “I must say you did a splendid job of customer service.” I could only stare at him with a blank look then we both began to laugh. I let out a small growl. “What was the guy's problem?”
“Well, if he has a heart attack you are the one that is gonna give him CPR,” I stated firmly as we laughed once more. The gentleman’s actions had been the unusual, but more and more the industry as a whole was experiencing such behavior. It made me wonder what the future of air travel had in store. Skip and I formally introduced ourselves and I sensed an easiness in his spirit as we wandered back to our assigned stations.
I rearranged my service apron, binding the ties behind firmly. The stress was getting to me. I was becoming antsy. I headed forward checking the passengers but my real intent was to find Reina and see how she was doing. I approached the service galley at door 2R ju
st as Cary stepped into the aisle and greeted me.
“Hey Mexican, you need a green card to be up here.” I liked her spirit. I enjoyed someone who could dish it out.
“I don’t know if you realize it white girl, but we are now in el espacio aéreo de Los Estados Unidos de Mexico,” as we had long ago flown over the divide of the two countries. “You’re the one that needs a visa.” I smiled broadly as Cary was impressed with my volley. Her unique humor was refreshing. “Why are you so gleeful on this miserable night?” I inquired. She grinned a bit and hesitated, her thoughts wandering as if she were recalling something or someone.
“Nothing could get me down right now,” the beautiful light haired lady stated. “I just got back from vacation.”
“What, coming back to work, that’s a joyous occasion?”
“No, you don’t understand, my husband and I were just in Yosemite, backpacking.” Her face glowed brightly as she envisioned the vacation. “It couldn’t have been a better time. We were able to understand and share like a wife and husband should. It was special.”
“I'm very happy for you Cary,” It was somewhat annoying that anyone on this flight at this ungodly hour can be that happy. She continued to express her joy as she skipped over and entered into the galley elevator. I gazed through the window of the door as her bright face traveled down into the underbelly of the aircraft. As I turned I saw Reina as she sat angelic as ever, her eyes focused on her reading, the same publication she had on the bus ride. She slowly gazed up to find that I was staring. I glanced down and saw that the periodical she was relishing was of religious content. Her peace and serenity were bestowed with the grace she possessed and a reassuring smile slowly developed upon her sweet face.
“It must be a bestseller.” I stated. The lovely lady tilted her head upward.
“Number one,” she replied offering up the cover for me to view more closely. I felt awkward and a bit embarrassed regarding how I chastised her about the adjusted flight numbers.
“That little Mexican boy is so sweet,” my fellow crew member stated.
“Yeah, his name is Javier.”
“I heard his mother call him by that name when I was back there.” she responded.
“Well, I'm sure one day you will have a little guy just like him,” I suggested. Reina drew silent and turned away for a second. I immediately took the second jumpseat at mid galley and sat next to her, facing her side profile. I took the initiative.
“This dream of yours,” I stopped then continued. “Tell me about it, the truth.” She did not move at first but I saw her eyes fill as she turned her head toward me and in a shy, timid manner began to speak.
“I've told you pretty much everything. I don't expect you to understand because I don't understand it either.” Her voice fell to a whisper.
“Understand what?” I wanted to learn and possibly console.
“A truth I’ve tried to prepare for all my life,” were her words.
“Is this the flight of your dreams?” I pressed her. Her eyes continued to swell as she continued to shake her head in an uncertain manner.
“I don't know.” I sat straight up, contemplating her words. I too had feelings while thousands of feet in the air, but I had been able to toss them aside, bury them deep down. That is what someone in this career must do and I wanted Reina to do the same.
“2-6-0-5 is not 2-6-5,” I insisted. “This can't be the one because I don't feel like I am going to die this night,” I sternly stated. The lovely girl just smiled and replied.
“Then you won't.” That was not the answer I had expected and again there was a long pause. I began to feel shaken by her words and panic set in. I needed to change the subject.
“Hey, I can't let all this beer go to waste.” In my failed attempt at humor I stooped down and grabbed a couple of bottles of the remaining Bohemia from a cart tray. I could not indulge myself but I knew that passenger Ronald Daily and his friend would certainly appreciate the cold brew. I arose, breathed deeply and tried to regain my composure. I exited the galley and headed down the right aisle spotting the two young men half asleep in the mid cabin. “Here you go boys drink up.” I placed the cold bottles, one on each man's lap. Ronald opened one eye and smiled as I strolled off. Most passengers were asleep by this time as I walked into the darkness of the aft cabin back to my section by door 4R. I tried to relax and push aside my encounter with Reina but the thought lingered.
“So what the hell do you want me to do, get on the intercom and announce that tonight’s flight is going to be dubbed the 'doomed' flight?” What I needed to do was separate myself from the whole world and to delineate a boundary between myself and the rest of the crew. I found an empty passenger seat apart from everyone, 33-K, the empty row just aft of the two sleeping Mexican ladies and forward of my jumpseat. I dug into my suitcase and removed a magazine and tried to force myself to become engrossed in it.
“Muhammed Ali says, ‘Stronger boxers make better boxers and they get stronger with weight training.’” So said the cover of the fitness magazine. I had always found peace in the gym and hoped I could find some while reflecting on my recent accomplishments. Yet, no matter how hard I tried the text failed to grab my attention. Instead, the scene outside the window seized upon me. The Gulf of California below presented a tremendous show. The image of the moon in the heavens shed some light revealing the glory of the terrain. I followed our line of flight up one hill and down another keeping pace as we raced over that sparsely settled region of Mexico, But still I remained impatient. Paranoia made its presence felt as I began to look up and down the aisle and occasionally glance across the cabin. Does someone need assistance I wondered? Was I ignoring my duties? All at once, something became very apparent, there was an ambiance about the craft, indescribable, yet present and all encompassing. It perplexed me.
“Is this seat available?” The request disrupted my day dream. It was Tamlyn.
“How is it going?” I forced myself to make small talk as it was evident that the all night flight was taxing on all of the crew members. Tamlyn took the aisle seat beside me and gazed intently at the fitness magazine lying on my lap. It was opened to a page revealing a photo of the current Mr. America.
“How ugly!” She stated while crunching the muscles on her face, signaling her disapproval. I quickly closed the book and put the periodical away in the back pocket of the seat in front of me. She began to laugh, hoping she had not offended me. “You know Eddy, things have been going really great for me.” The lovely Asian-American beauty began to express herself in the same amicable manner Cary had earlier. She had recently married and her glowing face revealed she was still in the honeymoon stage of her relationship.
“Just terrific,” I stated with a tinge of sarcasm as I rolled my eyes and there was a pause.
“But one thing is new, I’m getting out of flying,” she said proudly and continued. “I’ve applied for a transfer to a ground job as a gate agent.” I was dumbfounded since I believed that being a flight attendant was one of the best if not most enjoyable positions within the company especially at our youthful age.
“Where are you transferring to? Are you still going to be at LAX?”
“I don’t know yet, but I’ll take any position that is open,” responded my attractive crew member. I continued to display an expression of confusion, a contrast to the smiling face of my crew mate sitting next to me.
“What brought this about? We’ve had some great times on layovers.” I wanted to know more.
“Well, there have been some problems,” my associate stated.
“What kind of problems?”
“Well Eddy, it's my mother.” I could see Tamlyn found it difficult to explain, she hesitated. I recalled that she had previously told me that her mother was very traditional in the old ways of her culture. “You see, she is very afraid,” my friend shyly said lowering her head.
“Of what, the long trips?” I was resolved to force the issue. Tamlyn could only shake
her head. “The possibility of danger during the long layovers?” I pressed again. The sweet F/A tensed tightly as she now seemed afraid.
“No Eddy, it's kind of silly,” the female flight attendant began to speak once more when I interrupted.
“Of what, a crash?” Tamlyn sat upright and locked eyes with mine in amazement.
“Yeah, that’s it! How did you know?” Tamlyn was aghast that I had come up with the answer on my own. I was devastated. I had to look away, retreating to my window and the outside. I saw the mountains down below, but my field of vision was narrow and I unconsciously focused in on a vital part of our aircraft in mid flight: the number three-engine dangling just under the right wing. I felt myself to be a rational human being, after all what were the odds? This was not logical. I sat up to gaze forward through the cabin of the 10. Tamlyn could only be baffled by my sudden actions. An atmosphere filled the cabin of DC-10NW903, unfriendly, provoking a wariness, a foreboding warning.
“What did Reina tell you?” I asked sternly poking my head forward as my surprised workmate leaned back, eyes wide open.
“Reina?” Tamlyn was confused.
“Have you spoken with Reina and told her of your decision to transfer out of flight crew?” I tried to soften my tone.
“No,” my slightly stunned friend responded.
“Did you mention your concern over a crash to anyone else on this flight?” Now the sweet girl became very concerned by my behavior.
Jumpseat- A Tale of Twisted Fate Page 11