“No. In fact you are the first one I have told about it.” She then pulled out a copy of the transfer request from her uniform vest pocket. She opened the company issued document and placed it in front of me but I did not want to see it. I was spooked. I shook my head and just grabbed the magazine from the seat pocket once more and turned away from my friend, forcing myself back into the journal. The lovely, petite flight attendant took the hint.
“I’ve got to finish a letter I started, I’ll speak with you more later,” she stated as she arose and walked forward to her 3R station. My eyes, unseen behind my periodical followed her every step. At that point I became leery of everything that was happening. I told myself to observe carefully, be attentive to what was going on.
“Pay attention!” I repeated the command over and over. Feeling rattled by what I was told by my two crew mates I rose from my seat and slowly walked up the aisle under the guise of checking in on the comfort of the passengers, my flight responsibilities. Instead, I looked at every person on this flight deliberately. I took notice of details: a woman sleeping, two Mexican men conversing, gesturing with their hands slightly limited by their weariness. The young red-bearded Ronald Daily in a blue woolen shirt was now deep in slumber along with his Hispanic comrade. A campesino slept with his prized white cowboy hat resting on his lap. Even the irritated European passenger had succumbed to fatigue and sat motionless with eyes closed. And of course there was little Javier and his family intertwined in one aft row somnolent in peace. Forced wide awake by the foreboding words of my mates, nothing escaped my eyes. I tried to calm my nerves with a prayer and ill advised logic. Certainly, God in His greatness, the Father, Son, the Holy Spirit, the God of the Sisters of Carmel, the Almighty of the faith I had been raised in, would intercede and not allow such a horror to transpire.
Traversing once throughout the cabin, I again arrived at 4R. I went forward a few rows and found a company blanket lying in the aisle. I picked it up and realized it probably belonged to a slumbering passenger, someone unaware of the worrisome words that tasked me. Then there was little Javier and his family cuddled together. Do I wake them up and tell them?
“Wake up! You're lives are in danger!” No. You gather your emotions, refocus yourself and whisper, “Not today.” You speculate that the words spoken in flight reflect a different perception in the minds of Reina and Tamlyn. I was possibly taking the conversation out of context. “Tamlyn said her mother was fearful of a crash in general.” Her words did not directly mean such a thing would happen within hours. I turned to view Javier's angelic face. I was a bachelor, I had no children. My attention swiftly shifted, overwhelmed by the thought of my mortality. I wasn't sure of what I believed and I needed to detract myself from what was happening.
“You are locked in this metal fuselage and that's not going to change.” In the vocation of my choice one had to be professional to the end. “So I'll go down in a blaze,” the mask of sarcasm softened the fear. I entered the aft lavatory and tried to straighten my uniform, my service apron being twisted to my side somewhat. I gazed at the reflection and focused in on my flight wings. I had a responsibility to see to no matter the consequence. I was going to go forward, meet up with my crew at mid galley, forget my moodiness and find some of that camaraderie that was so special in our profession. I turned into the galley to find my fellow F/As in cheerful conversation. I froze and began to slowly back away, I was daunted, perhaps this was not a good idea.
“How’s it going Eddy?” Gary rose up and was very cordial. “Hey, you know anything about real estate?” He raised his hand in my direction then swiftly walked to my side. I stood motionless at the edge of the service center as I was caught off guard by his question. Before I could come up with a response he was off in a strange monologue. It seemed as though he really wasn’t talking to me per se, but just speaking with enthusiasm in general, as he gazed forward with his large eyes fixed first upon the ceiling then the walls of the cabin. “You see I’ve got this chance to buy property in Denver,” he stated. “I put in my transfer for that base recently, I suppose I’m really going to do it. It’ll be a big change but I’m excited about it.” The smile on his face revealed a great thrill. “It’ll be good.” I supposed it would be but was still a bit confused. Gary was a stand up guy, the attention he took to see to every detail of the service as the Senior Flight Attendant showed that he was a person of good character. Gary’s confidence was aglow, a tremendous self assurance he carried proudly. He seemed to be saying, “I’m ready for whatever is next.” As he continued to speak I was puzzled as to why he was telling me these things. We were at best mutual acquaintances among the thousands of other crew members in our company. Then just like that he was finished. He slapped me on the shoulder and then he was gone.
“What the heck was that all about?” I wondered where all this craziness was coming from?
I desperately wanted to run away, but where could I go? “The cockpit,” I said. Maybe the pilots might need something, a coffee, a soft drink. I can spend a little time mellowing out up front gazing out the panel windows at the mesmerizing lights below. I retreated back aft to ask Skip, who was reading a magazine, if he would mind covering my station for a bit, to which he obliged me. I grew excited tossing away the bad vibrations, looking forward to the dream of being miles above the world, escaping if only for a moment from the fatigue and jitters of this flight.
Moving forward once again I spotted Gary talking with Cary. How could they all be so pleasant? Passing the brightly-lit service center, I encountered the rest of the cabin crew. I felt like a stranger as they were all laughing having a grand time. They were having a party that I wasn’t invited to. My nagging feelings escalated.
“I’m going up front to the cockpit, Gary.” I announced.
“See if they need anything,” he recommended.
“Sure thing.” Leaving I caught a look from Reina who gazed up at me as if she wanted to tell me something but I resisted the urge, broke eye contact and quickly left.
Arriving at the cockpit door, I casually chimed in the regulation flight code on the panel for admittance. I waited for a moment but there was no response.
“Did I chime in the right code?” I was confused and waited a minute longer. I became impatient and punched in the code once again. Still, there was no opening of the cockpit door. “What the hell?” My frustration rose. Suddenly the door opened briskly and then was shut right in my face. Just as quickly, the door opened once again. Bewildered, I hesitated and then entered, closing the door behind me. The sight that greeted me was astonishing. Captain Carl Herbert with four stripes on each shoulder of the pressed white shirt, sat in the left seat of God and stared indignantly at his first officer. The Captain was extremely agitated and was lecturing the F/O whose back I could only see..
“That’s it, damn it,” he screamed “That’s it!” The Captain continued fuming. I wanted to get the hell out of there but instead I found refuge by quickly sitting down in the seat right behind the upset Captain. Dead silence abruptly engulfed the cockpit and not a human sound was heard. The muteness heightened the humming of the engines as our metal bird streaked across Mexican air space. The whistling of the wind outside of the fuselage only intensified revealing the mortality of the aircraft. Finally my eyes adjusted to the darkness in the compartment as I turned to see the Second Officer seated next to me. It was Sam Wells, I had flown with the S/O numerous times. We locked eyes and he rolled his back into his head. I took it as a manner reflecting frustration. I had found someone who was just as perturbed to find themselves on this wretched flight as I was. My mind wandered back to a recent trip to SFO I had with him about two months prior, we had dinner with the whole crew. Sam was a riot, a prankster known for throwing a rubber chicken from the cockpit to amuse the ladies in the cabin. I refocused and looked at him once more but he did not move a muscle. The S/O sat silently, very aware of his rank and place in the cockpit. In the blackness, the colors of the spectrum radia
ted from the instrument panels creating a surrealism in which two men seemed to be facing off: if not in words then certainly in posture. I remained up front for some time and still not a word was spoken. Wanting desperately to exit I now found myself too afraid to move. Animosity rode jumpseat that night on flight 2605 and I began to wonder to what end it would reveal itself. The atmosphere was smothering but more importantly, there were two so-called professionals that were pissed off at each other and I wanted no part of it. Finally the silence made my anxiety unbearable and I jumped off the seat and stood.
“See you guys on the ground,” I proclaimed. As I was exiting I glanced once more at Sam Wells, looking for some sign of vexation, but he remained stoic and gave no reaction.
“Yeah, see you later,” was the belated response from a beleaguered First Officer, never turning to acknowledge me. I never got a good look at his face but only later discovered that it was Dieter Reimann. My palms were sweaty as I slowly stepped back into the First Class Cabin and gently closed the cockpit door. The whole thing frightened me. These combinations of events that had occurred on 2605 and to which I had been a witness seemed to be yelling at me, screaming of an impending danger. On their own, each one was nothing more than a coincidence, a normal occurrence that caused undue apprehension because of the atmosphere created by the all night flight. What could I do? Who would believe me if I were to scream and yell?
“Stop the plane, I want to get off.” My emotions were running away with me. I became frightened. I retreated into the first class galley at 1L. I needed a moment to settle my nerves. I slowly stuck my head out and gazed through the darkness of first class down the left aisle, I spotted Jeff Stillwell and Becky Devita fast asleep in almost a doll-like manner in their stillness. The two beautiful youngsters in their nicely pressed flight attendant uniforms comfortably rested in the first class seats I had envied them for. My line of sight took me farther aft to the illumination of light that was coming from the mid galley. I made out the figure of Reina popping in and out of view as she engaged in conversation at the service center. These happy crew members were all young, bright and the elite of the company. I spotted Rod Dawn as he joked with sweet Karen on her maiden Mexican trip.
I stood alone, dumbfounded, perhaps cast aside from their joyous activities. Moving across the cabin I quickly rushed down the right aisle past the campesinos with their white cowboy hats in the bliss of their slumber, past the red-haired young man and his friend who lay in intoxication. I past the two Hispanic women who remained awake talking of their visit back to their homeland, past the peaceful picture of a young family dreaming of hope for the future and opportunities for their young sons. I hurried to the rear, to my safe haven at seat 33-K. I slumped down hidden from the light that shone on my seat contemplating the complexities that clouded my mind. Paranoia hitched a ride on my jumbo jet. By a matter of twisted fate was I to find myself trapped in the belly of a beast that was soon to die? The cabin fell silent, the hum of the General Electric engines was dominant. Forward, I viewed the bright illumination of the service center and figures in crew uniforms as they played and laughed. The sight made me conceal myself all the more. There I remained, a coward before the very thing I had professionally trained for, which now seemed inevitable. I tried to remove myself consciously from the situation-a decision made by one who is in denial. I lapsed into a reverie, riding along the jet streams and sensing each and every adjustment made by the metal craft that was heading for a rendezvous with uncertainty. After time I felt the great bird beginning its descent and I became reinvigorated forcing myself to believe the logical that my DC-10 would soon arrive at its destination and all I had experienced would prove to be nonsensical and quickly forgotten.
The cabin’s calm was broken by the illumination of the Fasten Seat Belt sign. The intercom at 4R rang and slowly rising, I lifted the phone to hear Cary’s voice.
“You have two carts back there Eddy, you want to leave them stored there or do you want to bring them up to have them secured in the galley for landing?” I hesitated. Fatigue told me to leave them where they were right across from my jumpseat, to be utilized on the next leg, the trip home. My fear made the decision and I took each one forward to be secured down below, leaving nothing but fuselage aft of my station. The young flight attendants scurried about organizing themselves for the immediate duties of securing the cabin for the expected landing.
The No Smoking sign lit brightly above the heads of the slow stirring passengers signaling the approach through Mexico City air space. The glistening lights of the capital sparkled through our jumbo jet's side windows, then they disappeared in the cloud cover only to sparkle once more a split second later. The whistling sound of the air passing outside became more intense as I struggled with each cart walking slowly up hill. I then returned downward on the right aisle awaking passengers and making sure their seats were in the upright position with seat belts fastened. When I came to Ronald Daily and his friend fast asleep in inebriation, lying sideways, I could see that their seat belts were secured across their waists. As I was about to awaken the gentlemen, I stopped.
“Screw it, let them sleep,” I said. Tamlyn was right behind me also checking the passengers. “Listen Tamlyn, let these guys sleep,” I was adamant with my crew-mate. Tamlyn seemed confused by my request but smiled and agreed. With all secured, I was reluctant to go to my station at 4R and instead, I quickly walked forward across the floor of the aircraft. I seemed to want to ensure that all was indeed well stored away and the crew strapped in firmly to their assigned jumpseats. Gary seemed surprised to find me wandering about as the pitch of the engines now dominated the atmosphere of the cabin.
“Better get to the back Eddy,” he said showing concern for my welfare. At 2L, I came upon a calm Reina, religious book on her lap. I looked to see that her straps were taut. I quickly moved across the mid service center to the right side at 2R, the craft sloped at an angle as I shifted my balance. My eyes fell upon Cary who was still standing and adjusting the straps on her jumpseat.
“Better get your ass seated, Mexican, we're almost on the ground.” I hurried down the aisle and slipped into an aft lavatory. I gathered some water and splashed a bit of it on my face. I raised my head and in the reflection before me I came face to face with my mortality. Was this night and day going to belong to Muerto? I washed my hands and hurriedly unbuttoned part of my uniform shirt as my chest and back itched mercilessly, irritated by the stubble of hair that was growing: an annoying souvenir from the recent body-building contest. I may have been extremely confused by the events of this flight but if the unspeakable did happen, I took comfort in that I was physically strong. Second Officer Sam Well's voice came over the intercom.
“Flight Attendants be seated for landing.” We were on final approach. The figures and faces of the passengers became one giant montage passing my sight quickly as I gazed about the cabin one last time. I rushed to strap myself in 4R and adjusted the belt on my harness, pulling one end as hard as I could, trying to position my body as rigid as possible. Releasing my hold on the strap I realized that the pressure was too great. I could barely breathe. My hands fumbled as I searched for the buckle once more to loosen the harness that was now so restrictive, having a perilous, smothering hold upon me. The lights in the cabin went dim as I decided to let it be, I endured the strain knowing that 2605 was near the ground.
“This is it,” I whispered to myself. The idea came faster, it repeated, keeping pace with my heartbeat as the aircraft became louder and more prominent in my consciousness. My preoccupations became stronger, the rhythm quickened and I looked up at the mirror located high on the cabin ceiling, above the aft service center, positioned so the flight attendant seated facing rear can view up the fuselage. A foreboding mood hung throughout the cabin. I stared at the floor then quickly gazed at my regulation watch, it was the early morning hours of October 31. I turned my head left and strained to look through the window at seat 33 K just forward of me. Looking b
eyond the glass I recognized a thick haze, an ocean of fog into which our craft might float.
The majority of the passengers on board had just been awakened, so there was little sense of anxiousness throughout, mostly there was a quiet, peaceful calm. In the rear of the plane, this silence heightened the awareness of the craft itself as the decisions from the cockpit instructed the mechanical systems in the tail to do their job. The groaning of the equipment was clear, predominant. There were fearful, loud noises, exposing the lie of the aircraft as a soaring bird of nature. My heart was beating faster as the plane immersed itself into a deep, thick haze. 2605's landing lights became useless as the beams shot out but failed to pierce the dark ahead. Instead, it was reflected back into the cabin creating an eerie illumination. Then an unfamiliar calm came upon me.
“Don’t be afraid, it’s going to be okay.” I sensed a protective ambiance that nurtured me.
BAM! The first massive force was unmerciful as I was jolted into the back of the jumpseat and my legs went flying uncontrollably.
“Dear God.” My voice broke the overwhelming silence. No one dared say a word as if praying that everything really would be okay.
I turned my head to the right to see Skip at 4L all twisted about like a parachutist stuck in a tree. His eyes were wide open, revealing a specific fear. His hands were clenched around a handle on the fuselage wall. Suddenly, the vessel was back into the haze. The plane yawed slightly to the right; no one was stirring or panicking. To me it seemed as though there was a total submission to the powers beyond our control. I tried to console myself.
“Be calm,” I whispered, breathing heavily. I rationalized that we had just encountered a hard landing. The DC-10 had bounced once and was coming back down again. This type of event was not particularly uncommon. I waited with anxiety but the craft did not return to the runway nor did it take off again. We merely continued on through the fog, suspended in a thick limbo. “Skip, are we on the ground or in the air?” I shouted across the cabin but received no response. Skip was frozen, unable to speak or even think clearly it seemed.
Jumpseat- A Tale of Twisted Fate Page 12