The Road to Providence

Just ending a lengthy travel day: Denver to Charlotte to Providence. I don't mind. It's exciting and nothing beats people watching at airports. After nearly forgetting my itinerary, wedding rings and watch (have to keep on a schedule)I headed to the airport. Checking in was a breeze. The breakfast stop at TCBY was not. It's never a good morning when you dump your coffee on the floor before you've even had a chance to give it a stir.

Luckily, the flights went smoothly. And by smoothly, I mean enough overhead room for my roller bag and upgrades to economy-plus. Score! Even more heartening was the older gentleman who voluntarily held and calmed an infant while his mother got situated a few rows in front of me. Thank you, kind Samaritan.

Connecting through Charlotte was a pleasant experience. The Providence gate was right next door, I had time for a bite to eat and once again had room for my roller bag overhead. Double score!

The gentleman behind me told his life story to a perfect stranger twice during the hour and a half flight to Providence. Again, I don't mind. I could check in and out of the story as I pleased, and when I'd had enough I could focus on the sound the woman next to me emitted from somewhere near her esophagus as she caught a few winks.

Traveling can be quite strenuous. But what an adventure.

Bad News Passengers

Yes, airline passengers really are misbehaved sometimes. And for flight attendants there's no escape until the jet bridge is attached and someone opens the door from the outside. No wonder a bag of chocolates from the occasional passenger can mean so much -- take note, frequent flyers.

The Six Worst Airplane Passengers of 2009 (so far)

Madame Booger

Working a flight back from Milwaukee last week I had the pleasure to chat with a lady who ran her own day care. (Why she immediately offered this information is beyond me.) It was her lucky day. We weren't completely full so she was able to move into the bulkhead row and enjoy the luxurious foot room all to herself.

She proceeded to explain that on her last flight, she was stuck in a row behind someone who pushed his seat all the way back leaving her trapped and feeling extremely claustrophobic. "I just kept coughing on him."

"That should teach him a lesson," I said. "Get him sick as punishment for causing your discomfort."

"I know," she continued. "I have a day care and I've seen at least seen different kinds of boogers. There's orange ones, and yellow-greenish runny ones..."

At this point I was thanking the flying lady gods that she trailed off before she managed to run down her entire list of booger characteristics. Ironically enough, for someone so sensitive to the physical properties and powers of boogers, she was continuously blowing her nose and placing the used tissue, ever so daintily, into the pocket that holds the safety card and entertainment guide.

Another request to all airline patrons...Please do not place your "used service items" in these pockets. They are not trash receptacles! Someone, whose snot is not on those tissues, inevitably will have to reach their hand blindly into that pocket to retrieve all the nastiness that people leave behind. No matter what your boogers look like, they all belong in the same place...the trash bin.

Thank you. I'll get off my booger-free soap box.

First Officers' Club

Flying has begun to slow down again after the holidays, which is a nice respite but does not provide much fodder for travel tales. Over the last few trips I've been on though, it has seemed like the first officers were the ones providing the most material for interesting character sketches.

Two weeks after New Years, for example, I was on a trip to D.C. with a first officer called Dusty. He's the type that is so cute you'd want to make a Ken doll out of him, but one sideways look told you he could do some serious damage to your face with one hand tied behind his back given the right motivation. The best part about him was instead of bolting out the cockpit door in an attempt to beat the passengers out of the airport, he would thank each passenger as they exited and then...wait for it...he would walk to the back of the plane and pull down each of the flight attendants' bags for them. Anytime a pilot walks past, oh say, the emergency exit row of the cabin, my little "this is unusual" hairs go up on the back of my neck. Now I purposely pack light to save my limbs and back the strain of lugging my suitcase so I'm more than capable of hefting it in and out of the storage bins, but thank you Dusty. That simple act earned you a spot on my all time favorite to fly with list.

Next comes the female first officer who started out as a flight attendant and happened to be four months pregnant during our trip to Las Vegas. I managed to ask Donna the right lead-in question and she told me her whole history from college through today in about three minutes. Her dad is a retired United pilot and her sister is a current United pilot. Donna started as a flight attendant for United, but soon realized that she was getting much too impatient with the passengers and much too interested in what was going on in the flight deck to stay on that side of the cockpit door. So, thanks to her private tutors, she made it through flight school and is in her current position today. I feel like this is something that almost never happens, which is too bad. If the pilots had to experience our job duties and interactions with the passenger first hand, I think they would have a greater appreciation for flight attendants as a whole, as well as a greater appreciation for their own career where they are allowed to sit behind a locked door and not interact with the passengers if they don't want to.

And last, but not least, is first officer Travis. You might remember him from an earlier post. We flew to Portland together a couple of months ago and he usually referred to himself as "the fat kid." When I was flying the couch at the airport last Monday, the other reserves and I were watching Knocked Up on a TV in the corner of the crew lounge (their cinematic choice, not mine). Travis was sitting on a couch behind us and would titter at all the inappropriate or unnecessarily graphic parts, but otherwise not acknowledge or engage us. As a self-described redneck hillbilly from the South, this behavior painted such a classic picture you'd have to be there to fully appreciate it.

I'll be flying the couch again tomorrow, which will make it nearly two weeks since I've been at cruising altitude. Disappointing, but airports are such great venues for people watching, you never know what you'll witness.

Now That's Refreshing

Am I capable of opening a door for myself? Yes. Is it nice when someone opens a door for me on occasion? Yes. In a world that is seemingly more introverted and/or self-absorbed, even little common courtesies go a long way. Seriously, peek into the local coffee shop. How many people are staring at a screen or sitting there with ear phones jammed in their ears? Now how many are actually sitting with at least one other person engaged in conversation?

My refreshing moment came as I was leaving Norlin Library this morning and someone actually looked over their shoulder as they were opening the door, saw someone approaching, and stepped aside to let them through the door first. Granted, nice door holder dude had the tell-tale white cord that traveled from his pocket and terminated at the ear buds in his ears, but it's encouraging. Right?