“I'm busted,” I told myself as I grabbed my meager belongs and retreated to one of the familiar blue vinyl chairs to await my fate.
“Eddy.” I turned to see that the agent with a company phone in her hand. I approached the woman as she gestured that I should take the phone.
“For me?”
“Hello? This is Eddy.”
“Eddy, this is Daisy. I hear you are trying to get back on the flight to Hawaii.” There was a long pause as I quickly realized that I had better say something. The silence was making me look stupid.
“Oh no Daisy, I was just trying to say hi to one of the crew members on board……..you know, going outbound.” My words made me look even more stupid. I slapped my right hand against my moist forehead and a small stream of sweat began to run down the side of my face. Once again there was hesitation in the conversation.
“Well, why don't you come downstairs to my office.” My superior made a conscious effort in her tone of voice to not sound threatening. I knew my ass was grass. I slowly gathered my composure and belongings and headed for the flight lounge.
“I think you need to get back to work, Eddy.” Her plan for dealing with the little company “headache” had been forged and she would set the little shit straight. “Your legs are all better even though you never went back to the doctor the company sent you to. When can we put you back on Reserve?”
It had been a few months since the incident. So, this is the established time off one receives when you reserve passage in the belly of a jetliner hurling to its fiery doom. I pondered the complexities of returning to the flight line and yet I buckled under Daisy's intimidation. I smiled and allowed Edmundo to wrangle a few more day's leave.
“I need a bit more time to settle things with my family.”
It was now very apparent that my actions were making people take notice. What image was going to be projected when I got back online? How would I respond sealed in the cabin of a craft filled with all that jet fuel and responsible for the safety of the public, a responsibility I believed I had failed miserably in before? To what point would my experience affect my frame of mind? Would the memories be a benefit or an ugly, haunting reminder on each assignment? It became apparent that Eddy, at least the one I recalled graduating from Flight Attendant Training, would never return to the flight line again. The only option available seemed to be cling either to the hero or the madman. I became afraid that trying to live up to the first image would only lead to creating the second. Hugo's words rang loudly in my mind.
“That's the trick. Since you are the one who experienced the crash you are the one that must determine the outcome.” How I so missed my good friend as I contemplated what lay before me.
Back in the flight lounge I quickly filled out a few flight pass requests to hold in reserve as I boldly scribbled LAX-HNL-LAX. I wanted to make sure I had a back-up plan if things got ugly, needing a quick exit from reality. In my company mail box there were my airline pay receipts. They were blank for there was no income earned. I caught the red and white employee tram back to the parking lot. It was going to be a hard task to regroup because I was dead broke financially.
Upon walking up to my home in Manhattan Beach I discovered that the door had been shimmied open. I tentatively entered to discover that someone had their way with my home once again.
“Was this a local thief?” The more I studied the scene it became apparent that truly nothing of value was missing. All shelves and drawers had been the focal point of this violation yet the TV and stereo were left in their original positions. This was not the work of desperate druggies looking to pawn something for quick cash. I noticed that my mail that had accumulated over a period of time was scattered across the living room floor and had been scrutinized by the invaders. I became overwhelmed and just sat upon the sofa with the front door wide open. I did not call the police or make any type of report. What was I going to report and to whom? I just cleaned up the mess and went about as if nothing had happened.
Chapter XIV
The world I had returned to was filled with trappings of great fear, the continuing unease coming out of Tehran, Iran. The nation's TV anchormen routinely counted and displayed the number of days our American citizens had been held hostage by the Revolutionary Guard of the new Iranian government. Any hope that President Carter could negotiate their release anytime soon was slim at best. Military intervention seemed a more likely scenario. Any scenes of DC-10 NW903 broken and burnt in pieces on the tarmac in Mexico City were gone forever from the television screen but remained extremely vivid in my mind's eye.
“Eddy, Sister Marie Inez is coming to visit the family,” my mother stated once I contacted my parents. “I expect you will be there.”
“Of course mom.” Sister Inez's visit took priority over all family issues including my recent disturbing disappearance. My parents wished to conclude it was nothing more than childish behavior. Their disappointment in me could be overlooked if I behaved well at the family gathering.
As the extended family readied themselves for the first home visit by our dear aunt, I made sure I was well groomed and in a good frame of mind. I made myself available to my parents for any request at all, for my shame lingered and I owed them for my recent indiscretion. At one point in the visit Sister Inez asked to speak to me in private.
“Oh Dear God, the Cardinal.” This could only mean that she got word from His Eminence. “What did I screw up?” I tried to think back to the flight.
“We give thanks to God for returning our Eddy safely. Our Lord has something special in store for you.” My dear aunt stated in prayer.
“Don't you understand. I can't live up to that expectation.” The words only rang forth in my mind.
As she was ready to leave, Sister Inez informed me that His Eminence Timothy Cardinal Manning had contacted her, aware of my involvement in the airline disaster. The Cardinal wished to see me again if I could spare the time. She left, returning to her vocation and I knew she was blessed for it. I believe I eased the minds of my parents concerning my mental stability. The problem was, I knew I was going insane.
I dreaded going back online, fearful of how I would react once put into a position of authority and made responsible for the safety of my assigned passengers.
“Your last passengers died!” The voices returned with a vengeance. I recalled how right out of training I had enjoyed being so inconspicuous in performing my duties. I would melt into the workings of the airline and few would notice me. Now, everyone knew who I was. Once back on reserve I felt that everything I did would be scrutinized.
“Is he going to be able to cut it? Will he be able to put aside everything he experienced?” There were those that doubted. I was about to bet against myself. “What will he do when he has to fly the all-nighter back to Mexico?” I dreaded the thought. The reality was that I was broke and I needed to draw a paycheck again.
I made clear in a conversation with Daisy that, as my first assignment back, I would embrace the Mexico City all-nighter once again. I was not about to wait around by the phone on pins and needles worrying whether I would be assigned the night owl on any given day. I was going to try and tweak Muerto. In reflection, I believe it was a combination of a slight amount of machismo and a whole lot of stupidity. I concluded that being Hispanic, Catholic and male gave me three reasons to seek martyrdom.
I was going back online on Flight 605, LAX-MEX. I took great care to make sure the crease on my company shirt was just right, long and straight. I recalled how I took little interest in my appearance on the night of October 30th.. I thought about how Gary Rollings had taken his position as Senior seriously, looking so impeccable. I owed it to his memory to make an effort this night.
“Wasn't Gary Rollings more worthy to survive than you? The voices saw an opportunity.
“Yes.”
“Did you look like a total slob that night in October?”
“Yes.” I became annoyed with their antics. I put on my blue ja
cket and polished my flight wings trying to distract my frustration.
“Okay, if Muerto wants to grab me tonight then bring it on.” I taunted Death to make a reappearance. I was depleted by this chaotic experience and wished to create a final confrontation.
At the crew meeting in the flight lounge I discovered I was assigned the mid-galley position. I was designated an “extra” so I would not be bidding for a door station on the DC-10. I was befuddled. I was not told this beforehand by scheduling. Was management afraid I would crack in mid-flight and go berserk?
“To hell with everyone, let us all die in a fiery blaze of glory!” I imagined myself running across the cabin rabid as a mad dog, trying to open one of the jumbo jet's doors at thirty three thousand feet. My sense of logic finally revealed itself and informed me that everyone was just trying to make the first flight back easy for me.
As expected, the flight proved to have no sinister demons awaiting me to settle the score. I looked hard across the darkened cabin for that thick atmosphere that had lingered on 2605. There were no premonitions or renditions of crew-member's fearful dreams. Everyone in the cockpit and cabin was professional and orderly. No matter how hard I searched there was absolutely nothing out of place.
Upon final approach into the Mexican capital I found myself at total ease. I felt contentment while descending to the very runway that changed my life forever. Divine intervention or twisted fate? Is there a purpose to one's life?
“Reina believed but I want more proof.”
“Bravely stated asshole, the flight is already over,” the voices whispered. The DC-10 gently touched down on Runway 23 Left at Benito Juarez Airport.
Once the great craft was parked at the terminal building and door 2L opened the gate agent on duty was surprised to see El Gato. Her bright smile reminded me how I so loved the Mexican people. Then I remembered something very important.
“Senor Gomez?” I asked. “Trabajando?” Through the bodies that were deplaning the short, dark-haired agent indicated with hand gestures that she was not sure but would find out for me. She would return with sad information.
“Este dia, no!” I was greatly disappointed by the news but asked her to please give Hugo my best regards.
The passenger load on the flight down had been light. Although I had been up all night, I was not tired. I decided I needed to exit the belly of the metal craft, keep my wits about me. Russ, another F/A assigned to the flight was a lanky, blonde who I had develop a friendship with early in my career. He liked muscle cars and owned a '65 Chevelle that could be heard rumbling through all levels of the employee parking lot. Russ saw the old Eddy in me when I returned to the flight line.
“Hey Russ, you want to come with me on a little expedition?”
“What do you have in mind?” I had piqued his curiosity. I asked the Senior F/A if it was okay if we deplaned for a bit as it would be another hour before the passengers would start to board. Permission was granted and we hurried down the outside stairs of the jetway onto the tarmac.
“Where the hell we going?” Russ inquired.
“I want to see what is left of the crash site.” The words seem to give my unsuspecting friend a chill.
I was not sure what I was looking for or what I would find. I supposed that the site would have been swept clean of everything related to the incident. I was sure that any burned-out wreckage or structure material would be long gone, after all it had been several months since the crash. Hastily moving through a variety of airport structures and dodging vehicles, we anxiously zigzagged through all obstacles during the busy moments at the airport. I steadily continued on in the direction I was sure the final impact had occurred. I kept a look-out for the foundation of the maintenance building we had struck and the large depression that was created across the street. I imagined a large blemish of black integrated into the tarmac and concrete, a result of the tremendous heat from the flames.
I suddenly came to a stop. What came into sight was completely unexpected and shocking. A large pile existed on the concrete beside the crumbled foundation of a what had been a concrete building the DC-10 had struck with such great force. Various pieces of aircraft wreckage had been removed but a huge pile of “leftover” material remained in the ashes. I would later discover that the precious metal that had once made up the glistening beauty of my elegant jet plane had been hauled off to be sold as scrap. The sale of the element had even created a financial benefit for the airline which was explained to the stockholders through the year-end receipts as due to “an involuntary adaptation of aircraft DC-10 NW903.” At that moment I wished I had perished along with my crew. If I had, perhaps a fitting inscription on my tombstone would be that I had died as a result of an involuntary adaptation.
Trailing behind, Russ now came to a complete halt. There in front of us, among other things were burned out passenger seats from 2605. Once again, like a child approaching an animal he has never been warned against, I ventured forward. I squatted down at the edge of the fired rubble. I picked up a plastic airline passenger information card with the proud company logo showing through the soot that covered it. There was a mangled tray table sticking out of the pile. I estimated the mound to be about 35' in diameter and approximately 9' at its peak. Not a word was said. We were both hypnotized by the debris. Russ walked around one side while I circled the other gazing at the remnants which told the story of that awful morning.
“Que paso?” The words of the werewolf'-masked figure from October 31 flashed through my head. I spotted a child's shoe wedged in the debris. Whose? In my mind's eye all I saw was Javier. Then again, the tattered shoe could have easily belonged to anyone. It may have been that of one who crossed the airport lines that morning desperately searching for loved ones. Perhaps a frantic mother, dragging along her child, running through the inferno.
Cabin interior material from the shattered craft filled the mound. I spotted cabin seats, carpet, window shades, seat belts, galley panels, meal carts, the company in-flight magazine, all in a state of destruction. There were great amounts of crushed and broken concrete mixed into the heap, coated in black smut. Then the unthinkable hit me. More than likely there were probably some minute traces of human remains in this pile. I immediately flashed back to the three young “chavalitos” making a hideous game of catch with the severed human hand. I gazed down at my own blackened hands and began to shake as I quickly backed away from Death's trash pile.
“I don't think you should stick around here, Eddy.” It was Russ who had caught the panic in my face and his words made sense. I looked up at my friend with my blackened hands still held high.
“Let's get out of here.” We left and I did not look back.
“Four months.” I said out loud. “They have left that shit sitting out there for four months.” Russ could see that I was pissed.
“Are you going to be okay?” I nodded my head but inside I had my doubts as I frantically struggled to clean the carbon grunge off my soiled hands. Russ offered me a clean handkerchief as he kept a close eye on me the whole way back to our awaiting airship. There was still another leg we had to work and my good friend would be there for me if the need arose.
The experience was just another cruel joke bestowed upon me by Muerto, allowed by the stillness of this all powerful God in which Reina had put so much faith. As Russ and I climbed the steel stairs on the exterior of the jetway, I reminded the Almighty that there was still nothing that happened this day to indicate a divine presence or a sliver of hope.
Upon entering the jetway at door 2L I was met by a group of individuals huddled, talking and turning in great surprise.
“There he is.” The Senior gal of our crew directed the attention of the others. Several company gate agents approached and offered the traditional abrazo as an act of respect then the bodies parted revealing a shy, hesitant figure.
“Look Eduardo, it's Penelope.” There standing very uncomfortably, was the lovely young lady I had eyed boarding Flight 2605 the n
ight of October 30th at LAX. The vivid memory returned at once as I recalled her walking aft down the left aisle to take her window seat. This was the same young lady whose mother had desperately asked me for help once I was in the operations room at Benito Juarez Airport. I flashed back.
“She is nineteen years old.”
“Yes, I remember her, she was in the rear section, she had a better chance of making it out.” I replied.
“Thank God you are alive.” The words of a gracious woman. Now, here standing before me was that precious daughter Penelope Anderson and in the midst of my cynical skepticism I was given a gift, another survivor.
Penelope seemed overwhelmed with acute anxiety. This was to be her first flight since the morning she had miraculously escaped Muerto's grasp. Just as I was reluctant to enter the aircraft when it came my turn to leave the Mexican capital, Penelope seemed to back away from the metal giant during her pre-boarding process. She was well aware who I was and the role I played in our shared ordeal. What she did not know was that this was my first assignment back on duty since the two of us had escaped that fiery pit. What were the chances, I wondered? I was assigned a random flight back to Mexico City and on the other end Penelope was allotted the same flight for her return to California. I approached her and gently clasped her hand and urged her forward as we re-entered the belly of the beast together.
“Thank you,” the lovely lady stated.
The unique situation was explained to my Senior F/A and since the load was light for the return to LAX I was allowed to sit beside Pandora in the cabin once we were in the air and the craft leveled off. We mostly just stared at each other. Finally, I asked what everyone else had avoided bringing up.
“What do you remember Penelope?” The lovely lady stared forward for some time then spoke.
“There was a massive jolt then the ceiling fell on top of me.” Her beautiful dark eyes grew wide as she drifted back in time. “There was so much stuff on top of me, I'm not sure exactly what or even who.” I listened with complete understanding and compassion. “There was fire everywhere and then someone grabbed me and dragged me out.” Her recollection seemed somewhat limited. She was put in a vehicle and whisked away, and the next thing she recalled was that she was in the hospital.
Jumpseat- A Tale of Twisted Fate Page 37