Jumpseat- A Tale of Twisted Fate

by E E Valenciana

  “There is very little information coming out of Mexico City at this point but don't worry about it, we will take it a step at a time.”

  “What rights do I have?” Dave thought about my question.

  “I will review the contract the airline has with your union.”

  “What alternatives are available to me in the complexities of international law?” The learned attorney scribble rapidly upon his pad. “What kind of protection is at my disposal, if any?”

  “Do you need protection?” Dave laid the pad down as I related to my experience with the vile comandante.

  “It is definitely the responsibility of the airline to protect you and see to your injuries,” Dave stated. I wished someone had reminded the airline of this before Chavez found me. Then there was the question of liabilities and possible financial expectations. “As an employee your options with this regard are limited.” My good friend was being honest. “If your injuries are severe enough you could apply for workman's compensation.” David continued, “If, a thorough investigation was conducted and it was determined that the crash was due to an extreme case of negligence on the part of the airline, then you might have a case.”

  I certainly valued David's counsel for it was evident that I was soon to be thrust into a hornet's nest of legal activities as a result of my ordeal. I already knew that any official investigation would be far from thorough and besides, any personal compensation was not even on my radar. Still, it was important that I be keenly aware of all my options.

  It was common for airline crash investigations to go on for months, even years before a determination of fault would be announced, and that is when the investigation is done correctly by reputable institutions and agencies. The Mexican Government was directing this investigation and few Americans were invited to part-take. The only word filtering out was that it was pilot error and that the cockpit crew were drunk which made me distraught about the immediate future.

  “Listen, the main thing is that you have your leg evaluated by an expert physician as soon as possible,” David stated. “Tell your superiors what you need, work with them and if you need me to call them let me know.” I felt a sense of confidence knowing I had David on my side. As he and Kathy were ready to depart I recalled that my vehicle was still in the company's parking lot.

  “How about giving me a ride to LAX?” My dear friends graciously agreed. Besides retrieving my car maybe I could speak to someone in authority at the executive offices about getting my leg checked out by a knowledgeable physician.

  The scene seemed surreal as I slowly approached the company's headquarters on Avion Drive on crutches. From the flag being raised at half-mast to the expressions on employees, it was clear that the demise of 2605 was a wound in the hearts of all. Certainly no one ever would think that the young man moving about at a snail's pace through the hallway was in any way related to the greater occurrence that weighed so heavy on each and every one of them.

  My first duty was to work my way to Barbara's office at Flight Attendant Training. Her eyes widen as if she had seen a ghost. She screamed and rushed to hug me.

  “You trained me well Barb,” I stated paying respect where it were due. Others had heard the noise and rushed into the waiting area. Word soon spread like wildfire as heads peaked in.

  “Are you okay?” Barbara's concern was genuine. The tide of warmth surged through the building as all struggled to get a glimpse of the survivor. Unfortunately, this made me very uneasy. The atmosphere began to get awkward so I forced a conversation. I showed Barbara the laceration on my wrist I had received during the chaos of the crash, where my regulation watch had been. Once free from the wreckage, I noticed the injury but my watch was gone...a tale that eventually seemed to make its way around the training department.

  “Are you going to the meeting?” another of my former instructors inquired. I was puzzled, unaware that any type of meeting had been organized. A familiar face now entered the flight attendant training center. Caitlyn was a senior F/A whom I had flown with on numerous occasions. The short, cute crew-member fought back tears as she slowly approached to hug me.

  “Oh that poor crew,” she whispered in grief. Her lamentation continued. “Dear Reina, she knew, we had always talked about it and she knew.” I backed off a bit and looked around satisfied that the others in the room had not heard her words.

  “Listen Caitlyn, we need to keep what Reina knew our secret for the moment,” I pleaded. “Others, especially in management, might not understand.” I looked straight in her eyes to gauge whether she understood what I was asking. Still tearful she nodded in approval. “We need to talk later when we are alone,” I whispered. Caitlyn wiped her face and seemed to understand my train of thought.

  Suddenly a smartly-dressed company lawyer entered the office, Mr. someone-or-other, asked if he could speak with me alone for a moment. I politely accompanied him into the hallway.

  “Were there any infants on the flight, do you recall?” The company counselor asked the question with a serious look on his face. I was caught by surprise as I tried to instantly recall the scenario of Halloween morning. I wanted to say,

  “Yeah, Karen Smitt was just twenty years old and her life was snuffed out in an instant,” but I bit my tongue instead. I hesitated then simply shrugged my shoulders and shook my head. He gazed at my face, thanked me, and was off down the hallway.

  I remained motionless racking my brain trying to recall if I had seen an infant on the flight. All at once I felt Barbara's arm on my shoulder; I had been swept up with the hysteria of people moving through the hallway. Down the stairways the human tide streamed by the employee’s cafeteria and I found myself in the midst of people and voices. Faces would turn and focus upon me. Expressions of heartfelt joy for my survival surrounded me as the surge carried me along causing my body to spasm. I became dizzy and paranoid. Finally Barbara, her staff and myself in a state of confusion entered the large hangar space en mass and unnoticed.

  “I want to thank you associates for attending this vital meeting today, a display of your support during this troubled time.” I was surprised to see an exhausted looking Daisy Ackley standing at the microphone on a small stage erected at one end of the hangar. I ventured to guess she had returned from Mexico City for this meeting. The Manager of In-Flight Services was trying to get the attention of the employees, many who cried and sought comfort in each others embrace. Several of the associates I recognized, others I did not. All were filled with anticipation and hoped that new information would be forthcoming. Certainly the headlines of pilot error could and would be corrected.

  Daisy began by introducing the other individuals who were seated upon the stage, a team of psychologists. I felt that was definitely a good move on behalf of the company, considering the traumatized individuals I had encountered in the last couple of days. The overwhelming consequences of this cataclysm were bound to push some people over the edge. “I certainly will not allow myself to be such a victim,” I whispered to myself.

  “The airline is making help available to everyone,” Daisy stated. “This type of assistance is unprecedented in the industry.” Ackley then yielded the microphone to a female psychologist who extended an invitation to any associate needing aid to speak with her or her colleague at the conclusion of the rally. I notice the tall woman look over to the side of the stage at Barbara and me.

  “As most of you know, there were two crew members who survived this terrible crash and one of them is here today. I would like to ask Edmundo Valenzuela to please come up and say a few words.” The professional therapist stopped, and turned towards me and extended her hand. I thought I was going to pass out on the spot. I freaked and turned to Barbara and her staff who were joyous at the introduction, clapping vigorously in approval. Barb gave a positive nod urging me forward. I struggled with my crutches but was assisted by those in the surrounding crowd who carefully tried to guide me to the front. All at once I froze.

  Globos! Balloons! Ic
e Cream! Fruta fresca!” I viewed the crowd in the hangar and saw the same Mexican vendors that had been so prominent at the site of the crash. Muerto’s carnival had somehow followed me into the hangar. I envisioned his menacing figure boldly walking through the crowd selecting a seat in the front row. I saw him applauding with great enthusiasm then casually sitting back to take in the full realm of the show.

  “Go ahead, Ed,” Barbara tried to reinforce my confidence. I turned back to see friends encouraging me. Hesitant and confused, I approached the psychologist, leaned toward her and whispered,

  “It’s Eduardo, Eduardo Valenciana.”

  “What? Oh, Eduardo Valenzuela!” She announced once more. Once the applause had subsided that hangar got real quiet really fast.

  “You're not worthy to be alive!” Muerto jumped up and hurled his insults. Deeply embarrassed I stood with my head down. Ackley deeply desired to keep the momentum going so she leaped to her feet and joined me at the microphone.

  “Is it safe to fly Mexico?” A voice rose from the audience as a beautiful dark haired lady in uniform stood up. I looked long and hard at her for in my mind I could almost believe it was Reina. Ackley immediately chimed in.

  “Is it safe? Let me reassure everyone. All systems are functioning and working normally. In fact, our Senior Vice-President, Mr. Mckay has traveled to Mexico City himself. But let’s hear first-hand from the gentleman to whom we are so happy to see joining us today.” Ackley turned to me as I stood frozen in a hunchback posture. I tried to clear my throat then anger began to take charge of me.

  “What in the hell am I supposed to say?” I thought as I gazed out and saw a lot of broken people. I stared in silence “What do you want to hear, people? That our best safety pilot slammed his god-damn jumbo jet into solid concrete and we all cried and suffered and burned and died? Yes! We all died!” I was lost in a mental nightmare. “And they took the damn left landing gear as a trophy.”

  “Go ahead, say something.” Ackley broke my dream.

  “Take care of yourselves, you are your own best friend,” I warned.

  In that moment I thought hard about who I could really trust: certainly not the Mexican government and where really did the airline's interest really lie? I knew Ackley and I truly trusted Jack McKay, but that made only two people in the hierarchy of the company.

  “You can't afford to trust anybody,” was the message I wanted to share. “Care about yourself, I guess that is all I have to say.” I tried to make my time short as all at once there was a roar of approval. For those gathered on the morning of November 3 the whole affair was personal. I would have previously believed that our airline would, under no circumstances, allow us to ever fall in harm's way. I became frighten and cried. Was my beloved airline doing all it could in offering assistance to the associates? Would there be manipulation? I believed the truth lay somewhere in the middle. I determined it was the Mexican Government who created the music that made these executives dance an agreeable jig. After all, we were all supposed to be cooperating partners as the Mexican minister had firmly suggested. It all made me very uncomfortable.

  Daisy Ackley did not miss a step upon hearing my soft-spoken words, grabbing the microphone.

  “Just like Eduardo said, you all have to take care of yourselves. Be strong. You should not call off assigned flights because of a fear that doesn’t exist. We need to unite and help our airline of which you are all a vital part.”

  “Stand and unite. Unity! Unity! Unity! The chant went up and I stood in shock. Totally defeated, I hobbled to the side of the stage. I sat in a daze for the rest of the meeting. At its conclusion Ackley thanked everyone for coming and encouraging them to stay strong. Ackley and the female psychologist seemed very pleased with the results of the first of what I would later learn were many such planned meetings. Grabbing my crutches I was pulled away once again by the current of people. Shana was one of the first to approach me, giggly and greeting me with a kiss on the cheek.

  “Oh, Edmundo! I can’t believe all this time I thought your name was Jose. Are you okay, is everything okay?” She looked closely at my legs.

  “Believe me Shanna, it's okay. Nothing could really faze me at this moment.”

  “And it was so nice meeting all your family. But I just want to make sure everything is okay. Is it? Okay I mean?” I could not fault her sincerity but it was all way too much. I so wanted to escape the well-wishers who surrounded us, creating an uneasiness within me. Shana continued as more people gathered. “Oh, I almost forgot. This invitation is from Mr. Reddick, our CEO. He would like to meet with you tomorrow at 12:30. Can I tell him you’ll be there?” The supervisor handed me an envelope.

  “I’ll be there.” I hoped to shorten this madness.

  “Great! Oh, by the way, we’re all so proud of you, especially for saving those school children.” I looked with surprise into her eyes and chuckled.

  “Shana, that never happened.” The spirited F/A supervisor hesitated then showed a wide grin.

  “Yes, it did,” she insisted, “I read it in the newspaper.” In an instant she was gone.

  “Hi, Eddy, you don’t know me but…” The greetings came from all sides. Although sincere and of good intention, it was all happening too quickly and was overwhelming.

  Ken Franks approached. He was a well-known First Officer, who had an eye for the ladies. He pulled me aside and wanted to whisper something in my ear.

  “Shit, I wish the crash had happened to me,” He stated firmly gazing out at the F/As surrounding us. I stood in shock as he continued on. “You’re gonna get all kinds of pussy,” Flyboy Ken elbowed me on my sore ribs. Then with a wink and a nod he bestowed his approval.

  “The world has gone mad.” I just wanted to give up and get off this crazy carnival ride. I realized that there were only two options my coworkers would accept, hero or crazy man. Yes, I was in real trouble.

  Once away from the crowds I was fortunate enough to be surrounded by Barbara and her group. In the midst of conversation we were joined by Jerry Buntly, a down to earth bright middle manager. It was said that he had an influence in convincing the executives to award training class 2 free passes during the duration of our initial furloughed. He had my respect already.

  “Can I speak to you? I'm concerned that you haven't received a full physical exam. You might feel fine but what do we know about possible internal injuries?”

  “Hugo!” I blurted out. Jerry froze.

  “What?”

  “Oh nothing, you just reminded me of someone.”

  We sat in a corner of the employee cafeteria amongst the mechanics, clerical staff, baggage handlers based at the company headquarters. Jerry was kind enough to fetch us something to drink.

  “What about Skip?” I asked. I had found him in the rubble, his ankle shattered.

  “You know, Eduardo, a decision had to be made. The surgery on his leg in Mexico was minimal. The family decided to gamble on returning him to Los Angeles, seeking the best of care. They filled him with scotch, set up a special rig on a 727; had to remove three rows of seats. More scotch kept him calm for the 3 1/2-hour flight back home.”

  “Good job.” I was happy for Skip. “Where's he at now?”

  “Saint John's Hospital in Santa Monica. This news shed a new light upon the airline for me. Indeed there was a true “hero” to be found in this mess and his name was Skip Mitchell.

  Suddenly the entire space went dead silent. I notice Jerry straighten as his face lifted in recognition of an important presence. He stood and extended his hand.

  “Good to see you, Mr. Reddick.” I struggled to stand to my feet as the leader of our great airline silently place his hand firmly upon my shoulder. His tailored-made, double-breasted navy blue suit was immaculate. The sovereign figure simply patted my shoulder then shook my hand.

  “Fine job, son,” he whispered. His face was ashen. This affair tore at his soul. Solemnly he retreated making his way through the associates with not a sound to be he
ard. If no one in the large cafeteria area had known who the handicapped figure in the corner was before, it was made crystal clear by Mr. Reddick's appearance.

  “You'll never be good enough.” The voices in my head blasted me as I wished for nothing more than to crawl away into some black hole. Normal conversation around me began once again.

  I glanced at Jerry's reassuring face. His apparent faith in me instilled some threads of worth into my soul.

  “Listen, Eduardo, I liked to take you to be examined by the same physician the Lakers use. He's right down the road in Inglewood.” Of course he was right. Jerry had already made the arrangements.

  “You took one hell of a beating,” the respected physician stated as he viewed the results of my X-rays. “You are a lucky man, nothing seems broken.” Of course there was no X-ray taken to determine the damage to my mind. The doctor was optimistic. “With some physical therapy, in a short time you will be as good as new.”

  “You'll never be good again.” I couldn't silence the voices. On the way back to LAX Jerry and I stopped at a local hole in the wall and enjoyed hamburgers and fries. The kind manager made himself available to help me in whatever way I needed.

  “You know, Jerry, all my injuries were not due to the crash.” The good man sipped on the straw of his soft drink, pondering what to say.

  “I heard there was some difficulty in retrieving you from the Mexicans.” He kept his eyes focused on me as he took another bite from his burger. I did not say anymore. He knew my pain and sympathized.

  “Oh, look here.” Jerry laid the burger down and reached into the inside pocket of his sport coat. “I heard the story about your watch.” He pulled out a slender box. “Accept this as a reminder of how all of us in the training department are glad you are still with us.” Touch by his generosity I glanced down at the face of the shining device with its red company logo in the center. I also noticed that the second hand had a silhouette of a DC-10 flying around the ellipse. Unfortunately it would only be a matter of months before Jerry Buntly would be unceremoniously relieved of his duties at the airline, an act that really pissed me off, but times in the industry were changing.