Jumpseat- A Tale of Twisted Fate

by E E Valenciana

  “I'm going through a lot of shit.”

  “Why don't you get some help?” We both understood that he meant psychological. Just then we were joined by the captain and fortunately, I found myself to be in the company of a very dignified man.

  “What's happening, son?” I told him about the nightmares, the flashbacks and even touched on the lawsuits as I realized that each day brought me closer to the time I would have to testify in the court cases.

  “Damn it, Captain, I'm tired of all this crap and I want it to stop.” I fell silent with fatigue as he listened and sympathized.

  “Captain, here is the new unit to be replaced.” Suddenly, a company mechanic appeared in his red jumpsuit and held a new replacement part. With a nod from the commander he headed for the cockpit.

  “Why don't you get some help?” the gentle captain asked. The obvious theme arose once more.

  “I'm trying to make things happen,” I replied, realizing that any effort to rectify these difficulties was going to be met by extremely troublesome obstacles. The Captain gestured for me to re-board his aircraft. As I did I was greeted by the stares of all the seated passengers. The shame and dishonor I suffered at the hands of my own stupidity was soothed by compassion I was shown by the agent and the captain.

  The captain came on the intercom to announce that the delay was due to having to replace a vital instrument in the cockpit but now we were ready for departure. After take-off and once settled in at a cruising altitude, the focus on the idiot in the first-class cabin diminished. I imagined the incident would sure make for some good small talk amongst the cabin crew during the six hour flight. Once the meal service was over and the cabin was secure, I decided to go mid galley and face the music. The HNL crew-members were all silent on the issue, which I was grateful. I turned to one of the male F/A's, Fred, with whom I was antiquated with. I threw my arms up and twisted my face in confusion.

  “Tell me the truth about what just happened,” I requested. He adjusted his body and retreated into deep thought, then said,

  “You know at first I said 'what a jerk, why in the hell is he doing something like that? Then I thought longer.” I listened intently. He shifted his body once again. “I said I have no idea what he went through down there in Mexico and if it happened to me how do I know I wouldn't be doing the same?” He chuckled just slightly, a reaction that relieved the burden of my anxiety. He presented me with a sliver of hope for my future. I was on this mad ride by myself and no one was going to make all the madness just disappear. I had brought shame to my chosen profession and I swore that it would not happen again. I began to wonder if there truly had been a need for an instrument change in the cockpit or was it merely a ruse to mask my bad behavior? Either way I was grateful for the effort.

  I would remain an object of curiosity to the restless passengers around me who were forced to share the limited space allotted us while we blazed across the skies. Assisted by the winds we would eventually shorten my flight of shame by twenty minutes. I settled into my seat trying to discard the previous vision of Muerto at the controls of the jumbo jet. My actions had made me wish I could die but I was wise enough to know that Death never comes to he who asks for it.

  Once on the ground at LAX I was actually surprised to find no company supervisor waiting to greet me at the gate. I crept through the flight lounge like a child walking on eggshells, aware of my misdeeds, expecting my punishment from a disappointed parent.

  “Surely they had to know by now.” I was referring to the powers that be- Ackley, Barry Lane and most probably Mario Reddick. I was sure that my company's golden boy image was greatly tarnished. This dishonor grew like a cancer, deep down, and became new fodder for the demons tearing at my soul.

  “Certainly none of the other crew-members of 2605 would have behaved in such a manner if they had survived. You are worthless.” The fallen angels' voices played havoc with my escapades. Yet, the greatest wound evoked by these risky ventures awaited me when I arrived home where a company logo envelope awaited. The formal letter was from my supervisor, Shana James, informing me that due to my succession of canceled availability I was in danger of possible suspension and/or termination. Although Shana's signature was at the bottom of the document I wondered if it was Ackley who was pulling the strings. I sat stunned on my bed, and looked at the stoic image of the Holy Virgin. I was truly lost.

  “Yeah, Ed, sequence 174.” The following day I tossed aside the desire for commiseration and once again vowed to renew my efforts to pay for my latest sins. I resolved to be the best flight attendant the company had as I boarded the Boeing 737 at LAX, for an excursion on the “prairie patrol.” This was a journey through the western deserts, mountains and grasslands of our nation ending up with a layover in Idaho Falls. My confidence was boosted when I discovered that the master in command was Captain Dwayne Foster.

  “Eddy boy, you look great, still hitting the gym?” His jovial attitude brought a wide smile to my face, something that had been dearly lacking in recent times. I wanted to tell the experienced aviator that my slim physique was due partly from starving, since I was receiving minimum pay. I bit my tongue.

  The hot air rising over the desert created the perfect atmosphere for a rolling ride in the small twin engine jet as we headed for LAS, our designated first stop.

  “Can I offer you something to drink?” I exhibited sincere courteousness to the half-sickened passengers as they held on for dear life. The metal bird rose, only to drop in an instant with the unstable air. One fellow crew-members had to endure the process in high heels, clinging to the beverage cart as we swayed in all directions. In an unusual reaction, I felt elated with the turbulence for it presented me with another opportunity to thumb my nose at Death. I silently dared him to intervene. “Kiss my ass, Muerto,” I thought as I passed out a lot of ginger ale to the ailing passengers. My defiance was strengthened by the belief that my life was in good hands with Dwayne Foster at the helm.

  Once back home my valued time in the gym refreshed me. My body had healed and with a little more money coming in I evolved from my usual tuna in freshwater cuisine. I kept in touch with Father Riley whose manner of ministry refreshed me. My relationship with my parents had been mended, especially with my mother who heard through Sister Inez that I was continuing my visits with Timothy Cardinal Manning. I had a few more successful flight assignments under my belt and thought perhaps the worst was behind me. Whoever trusts in his own mind is a fool.

  “I have a flight for you, Ed,” the pleasant voice of the scheduler informed me as I held the Flight Attendant Bid Sheet as reference.

  “Ah, sequence 190.” I froze with dread. There was no need to reference the bid sheet. I was all too well aware of that sequence, LAX-MEX-LAX, the all-nighter.

  “Excuse me, I'm sorry, I really am sorry.” I fumbled the words as I began to shake. “Ah, I don't do the Mexico City all-nighter.” I was sure there was a mistake. Certainly with my recent behavior they were not about to send a perceived madman back on the journey that instigated his madness?

  “I'm sorry, Ed, I have my instructions.” It became very clear. This was the supposed tough love action of Daisy Ackley. The scheduler continued on. “If you refuse the assignment I am directed to pull you off the reserve list.”

  “Your beloved airline just stabbed you in the back.” The fallen angels laughed and gloated. I could not speak. Had I not proven my devotion to my company, my profession? Yes, I was having difficulties, but wouldn't anyone who had to endure the impediments this demented accident had presented? The voices became relentless, “None of the other crew-members would have such dysfunctional behavior if they had survived.” The ignominy grew but I took little notice for it was overshadowed by the rabid anger that filled my entire being.

  That night I sat stoically on the long, green sofa, one of several in the flight lounge. I was dressed immaculately in my pristine uniform, nicely pressed, shoes stunningly polished. My rage bolstered my stubbornness and the
assignment jolted my focus. Any feelings of believing that the worst might be over were completely shattered and what took hold was an overpowering desire to survive, even if it required retribution. The institution could no longer be trusted. I would never deny that there were still good people in the company, individuals with clout. Jack McKay certainly was a man I still admired, but the ugly taste of this assignment assured that I would no longer be forthcoming with anyone in a position of power.

  “Hey, Eddy, how are you doing?” My good friend Michael Lottergan spoke up as he spotted me in my inhibited state. Filled with a zeal for life, the upbeat F/A and union rep took a seat beside me. “Where you off to?” he inquired.

  “Mexico City.” The words popped out as I turned to see his merriment vanish. His jaw dropped a bit as he hesitated to ask the next question.

  “The all-nighter?' I nodded retaining my unemotional demeanor. Michael thought for a moment. “Is this your choice?” I simply shook my head. “What happens if you refuse?” My friend's mind began to problem-solve. I rose and simply drew my hand across my throat in a mime indicating my termination. I walked briskly away as it was time to board my aircraft. “You need to call Reva,” were the last words I heard. Michael was right, he always made good sense when faced with a sticky situation but his wise advice came too late to prevent the specific obstacle now before me.

  If my fellow associates had any misgivings about flying with me, they disguised them well. At the crew briefing I chose 4R as my working position. Why not? Certainly I was well aware that there was not going to be a repeat of the Halloween disaster. It just made common sense to pick that space. While storing my belongings by my station, I was approached by William, a tall, handsome associate who had selected to work right across the fuselage from me at 4L.

  “You know, Eddy, I have no problem working this flight. The way I figure it, you are probably the safest guy to fly with. It's not going to happen to you again.” He broke into a chuckle, grabbed my arm and gently slapped me on the back. I turned slowly and looked at his smiling face.

  “Well, if it does happen pray you don't make it out.” His smile quickly vanished as he hesitantly walked back to 4L.

  I sat unemotional, strapped to my jumpseat. Once in the air my attention to my duties was flawless. I chose to remain isolated for most of the all-night journey across the Bay of Cortez to the Mexican capital. Like before, the majority of the passengers slept and I sensed no peril lurking inside the cabin. Even if there had been an eerie occurrence, my mind and soul were overwhelmed with contempt for the despicable action taken on the part of my airline. I recalled how devastated Diego had been when he discovered he had been lied to regarding the runway lights. My fellow crew-mates respected my isolation during both legs of the trip.

  Upon arrival at LAX I was still fuming. I decided to go hit the gym even though I had been up for over twenty hours. The adrenaline flowed aggressively through my veins as I rode the company tram to the parking facility. Perhaps I should just get as far away from the airport as I could but then my disease had other plans.

  “Oh dear God,” I gasped as soon as I reach my vehicle. I fell into a seizure of convulsions and vomiting that paralyzed me on the concrete floor of the third level.

  “You worthless piece of shit.” The voices clamored for my submission. I lay injured physically and mentally, unable to gather my emotions or my strength to lift myself out of my vomit and try to regain my dignity. All at once the wrath inside was discharged.

  “No. No. No. I will not allow this to happen again.” I scolded myself. I picked myself off the pavement, tossed my flight gear into my vehicle, cleaned the excrement from my uniform as best I could and walked off in the direction of the Executive Offices.

  “I am going to see Barry Lane no matter where he is or what he is doing at the moment.” I spoke to myself. My resolve would not waiver. “I keep hearing how he is the one executive who lends his ear to the common employee. Well, I hope he has a big one because I have a hell of a lot to get off my chest,” I stormed up the stairs and rapidly made my way across the marble floors. I stormed in to the waiting area of the office of the Vice President of Inflight Services and was greeted by Barry Lane's secretary, Grace, who was caught by surprise with my arrival. She rose and showed empathy for my obvious state of panic.

  “I want to see Mr. Lane,” I blurted out as I rushed to take a seat raising my hands to my face as I began to break down. Grace came to my side and put her hands gently upon my shoulders.

  “I'm sorry, Ed, but Mr. Lane is currently in Salt Lake City.” Her words crushed whatever hope I had gathered to alleviate some of my immediate pain. Suddenly, from inside Barry Lane's office, another person appeared seeking the source of the ruckus. I glanced up from my despair and saw the imposing figure of Robert Eldrich, Executive Vice President. Up to this time I had not had any personal dealings with Mr. Eldrich. The finely dressed administrator immediately invited me into Barry Lane's office making it very clear from the start that he was available to listen, console and assist me in whatever way I needed at that time and in that place.

  “I just got off the all-nighter from Mexico,” I began, holding back the rage. Mr, Eldrich was dumbfounded. His head jerked back and his eyes widened. “Look Bob, I can't do what they expect. I am trying to get it together but it has only been a few months since I had to see my flight, my crew, all die in the flames.”

  “No, Ed, you shouldn't push yourself. These things take years to resolve.” His words flowed so freely from his mouth yet I had a hard time accepting what he was saying. I immediately became calm and the voices of my mind fell silent. If he was swayed by what seemed logical to both of us the only problem that remained was to eliminate the hassles from Shana and Daisy.

  I removed the court summons I had been served with and presented it to Mr. Eldrich. He was quite surprised I was being singled out in the lawsuits against the airline.

  “I am sorry all this has happened to you, Ed. I will contact Mr. Lane and inform him of the dilemmas you are facing. I also assure you that this airline will stand with you regarding the court situation. We are all proud of the actions taken by you during this horrible event in Mexico City. Rest easy and give us a little time. You know, Ed, this whole process is all very new to us, also.” With that being said, I thanked Mr. Eldrich and Grace, and calmly walked out with a sliver of hope. I went home and slept for the next sixteen hours.

  My next assignment sent me across the southwest desert to PHX, ending up in DEN for the night. The final leg of the second day brought our Boeing 727 into SLC where I learned we were to board special passengers. In amazement I discovered that Barry Lane and his wife entered the coach cabin selecting to dismiss the first class treatment. My anxiety grew as I was unsure if he knew of my meeting with Bob Eldrich. He did not hesitate to inform me that he had spoken to Bob.

  “Please be patient, Ed. A fair solution addressing these issues is in the works. You will soon be advised of a meeting.” He gave me a nod and shook my hand. I admired his straightforwardness and was content to wait and see what my superior would do.

  It was just a matter of days before I found myself heading to the executive offices once again. Upon entering the meeting room I encountered both Shana James and Daisy Ackley seated at a large table. While Daisy smiled and welcomed me I sensed that her feelings were only partially sincere. Perhaps my behavior had resulted in an intervention by the powers that be, a scenario indicating an inability to keep her own house in order. I personally was not at odds with Daisy. I had only the greatest respect for her as my superior. I was one of the few people that witnessed the ordeal she endured in assuming the task of morgue duty in Mexico City. The sight of mangled body parts could not be dismissed so easily from one's memory.

  Shana, on the other hand, had paid little attention to my presence, seemingly engrossed in a large file of papers that she ruffled through stopping at times to examine specifics on each sheet. I hoped that the large file was not mi
ne, a detailed reflection of my recent flight cancellations. I was certain that if there was to be an evaluation of my recent behavior Shana was confident that she had the ammunition to shoot down the insubordinate fly-boy. I envisioned her standing and reading straight from the Flight Attendant Manual.

  “Regulation section 1.2.8. Maintaining acceptable attendance is an important aspect of your job as a Flight Attendant. Please be aware that failure to improve and maintain a satisfactory record could result in stronger disciplinary action up to and including termination.” The daydream gave me shivers.

  I did not arrive empty handed. Along with a series of commendations I received from civic and private institutions corresponding to my actions on October 31, I also brought along a letter from Mario Reddick. He applauded the performance of my flight attendant obligations during the entire ordeal concluding with the following remark:

  “This airline can always use bright individuals as yourself in our future.” I was a firm believer that Barry Lane did not arrange this meeting so we could butt heads. This was not his style. The Vice President and Grace, his secretary, arrived with two other individuals who I recognized as being from both the Legal Department and Public Relations.

  “This airline and you, Eduardo, have a responsibility to each other.” Mr. Lane made it clear that was going to be the focus regarding the resolution of our differences. I was very pleased to hear those words for I wanted nothing less. Although I believed Shana held a desire to inform those in attendance of my indiscretions, I was pretty sure that Mr. Lane was well aware of my mischievous conduct and did not need Shana to refresh his memory.

  “Would you like to inform us of what you have been experiencing, Ed?” I slowly rose and decided to let go of the anger.