Crash Position

TWO

  I expected something to go wrong. First days are supposed to be like that, so I had double-checked everything. On the bus to the terminal, I sat like a wallflower, silent, listening to the crew gossip.

  “Oh my God, babes! Did you hear about that Mumbai flight?” said a thin, pretty faced flight attendant to another.

  “No…?”

  “Oh, they had food poisoning or something onboard. Some passengers even passed out. And then the aircraft went unserviceable because it was such a mess. The company was trying to brush it off of course,” she giggled sarcastically, “it was on the news the other night.”

  “Oh my God, honey, that’s crazy! But what about the crew? Were they sick too?”

  “Well, I haven’t heard anything about the crew. They must have been lucky.”

  “Yeh, that is lucky.”

  I pictured the chaos on that flight out of India, the scene causing even those who were perfectly well, to lose their lunch. I hoped this was not a usual day at the office.

  Please don’t let that happen on my first flight.

  Fearful I would lose my way, I followed the two chatty flight attendants up to the crew room. Lateness was an unforgiveable sin and could result in instant dismissal. The labor laws were brutal in this country and worker rights and protections were unheard of.

  Elhalia’s hub was a modern glass and steel extravaganza. User friendly and built with a future traffic projection that envisioned an extra five million passengers per year for the next fifteen years, the airport had smashed many Guinness world records. They even invented some of their own, like the world’s only indoor airport skiing facility­– for the passenger who cannot live without skiing while in transit. For the compulsive hiker, The Walk of the Five Continents: twice the size of a football field that passengers could stroll through, depicting the fauna of every corner of the world, complete with waterfalls, sand dunes, and of course more snow. News crews and travel reporters seemed to be more interested than the passengers, confirming what many had suspected–the extravaganzas had been built for city prestige and pride, rather than for any practical purpose.

  Golden lettering six feet tall, which spelt out the airline’s name welcomed me to the bizarre nerve centre that was the Elhalia crew room. The fluorescent lighting gave the room a sterile hospital-like feeling, while the hard linoleum floor gave every footstep an echo. It was the room of excited squeals and air kisses. Names didn’t seem to matter. ‘Babes,’ ‘Hun,’ and ‘Darls’ were suitable substitutes. Fortunately for those worried about corporate image, the room was accessible only by swipe card. Crew lay around on couches and chatted on phones, rearranging their hair. Some walked around bare foot as they changed their shoes and applied make up. One, sitting on a couch staring at a TV screen, inelegantly shoveled down mouthfuls of salad. Some talked loudly to other crew about what one might normally consider to be private matters. As I stood reading a company newsletter stapled to a notice board, I heard the words ‘my bankruptcy,’ ‘ex-husbands affair’ and ‘that man you were sleeping with’ thrown around as one might discuss the weather. It was a room where flight attendants did everything they were famous for not doing. Here, they were themselves.

  A heavy mass impacted my side. It was a young woman in uniform, my age I guessed, with tears streaming down her face. Her mascara was running, destroying the rest of her make up.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she said wiping at her eyes.

  “Ah, no problem,” I said, trying to hide the pain of the surprise attack, “are you okay?”

  “Yeh,” she said, sniffing in an attempt to compose herself, “oh babes, I can’t believe it. She offloaded me. The cabin leader offloaded me!” Her tone and the way she put her hand on my arm made it feel like we were friends who had known each other for years. I was a shoulder to cry on, despite having met only nine seconds ago. I looked at her name badge: ‘Jess.’

  ‘Offloaded?’ What the hell does that mean?

  I had a mental picture of a big yellow excavator with a bucket on the front lifting her up and throwing her on a pile of dirt.

  “She’s taken me off the trip because of my acne.”

  “What?” I said, genuinely alarmed. I looked over her face and could just make out the subtlest of blemishes, well concealed under foundation. Had she not said anything about it, I would not have noticed.

  Her tone turned sarcastic and angry, “Yeh, apparently I don’t fit the ‘look policy.’ ”

  “Oh my God,” I said, unsure what was professional or even nice to say at a time like this. I was still trying to comprehend the intense reality of the strict ‘look policy.’

  She wiped her face and leant forward towards my ear. We had never met but suddenly we were sharing secrets.

  “You know what,” she whispered, “I never wanted to fly with the bitch anyway.”

  Now I really had no idea what to say. She forced a smile and breathed in deeply as if to compose her self.

  “Well, at least I’ll have a few days off now.” She walked off with her roller bag to the doors.

  “Liz?”

  I turned to see a blonde man with a flashy white smile. His terracotta tan was just a shade below comical. He looked strong, as if he put a lot of time into his figure. He oozed vanity.

  “Yes, that’s me.”

  “Good. My name’s Simon. It’s nice to meet you. I’m your inflight trainer.”

  Our eyes both crinkled as we shook hands.

  “So, welcome to Elhalia. How was your training?” His voice seemed to rise at the end of every sentence.

  “Fine thanks, a little tiring, but fun. Glad its over though.” I finished with a nervous giggle.

  “Yes, it can be draining on some people.” He looked at me with pitiful eyes.

  “Guess so.”

  “So, let me show you around. We have a few minutes to spare.” He led the way around the harshly lit room, stepping along with the pride of a show horse. He pointed out the obvious such as the coffee station, the clearly labeled crew bag storage, the couches and well-worn magazines.

  “So what made you want to fly for us?” He turned, looking into my eyes.

  I had thought about the question many times before, and could never come up with an insightful, interesting answer. The only thing that came to my head was an expression used by one of my professors back at university to describe seemingly irrational behavior.

  “Well, I always wanted to do it. Why though? Only our psychiatrists can tell us why we do the things we do.”

  Simon paused, his face unamused by what I thought might be a witty remark.

  “Right. Ok,” he finally said, in a slow voice bordering on sarcastic. He probably wanted to roll his eyes, but his attention was taken by a squealing colleague.

  “Oh my god babes, how are you? It’s been forever!” said the skinny excited blonde, leaping onto Simon for an air kiss.

  “I know, lovely, it’s been so long! How are you?” he said baring his white teeth.

  “Good babes, I’d better go, or I’ll be late for the briefing.”

  “Where are you off to?”

  “Manchester.” She rolled her eyes. Simon gave a sympathetic nod.

  She strutted out through a glass door to an adjoining room.

  “Who was that?” I asked Simon.

  “I have no idea.”

  “What?” I looked up at Simon’s face.

  “Well that’s what this job is all about. Greeting people, you don’t really know or really even care about. I must have flown with her once or twice, but I don’t really remember her. That’s what we do all the time. It’ll happen to you too. You’ll soon be excited to come across someone in the network, who you barely know, and do the whole catch up in six seconds before continuing down the terminal.”

  “Wow.”

  “Anyway, let’s get to the briefing room. Tanya hates lateness, and you’ll want to make a good impression for her.”

  I followed S
imon’s lead, and pushed my roller bag against the wall. There must have been morgues with better ambience, I thought, At the head of the white table sat a thin brunette with her hair tightly pulled back into a bun. Her posture was unnaturally severe and her face was stern. I felt I should introduce myself.

  “Hi Tanya, I’m Liz.” I smiled awkwardly, hoping her temperament and personality would be warmer than her appearance.

  “It’s Taahnya. And you will be at doors three with Simon.”

  My smile vanished.

  The rest of the crew came through the doorway, their laughter stopping abruptly when Tanya lifted her head. Like a judge calling a court to order, Tanya began the briefing, laying out her expectations of conduct and reminding us of recent procedural changes.

  “Ladies, you will have your hats on from the time we leave the crew room until the aircraft door is closed.” There were nods of compliance from the female crew.

  “You will make sure your jackets are done up when we leave the crew room for the terminal.” There were nods from everyone.

  “I don’t want to hear noise coming from the galley.”

  Tanya did an effective job of setting the tone that she wanted. Everyone’s expression was a little more serious, almost nervous.

  Tanya opened up a file before her and read from the latest bulletin.

  “Our aircraft has had a problem with call bells going off uncommanded, which we will need to be mindful of.”

  A crew member at the other end of table tried to lighten the mood. “Oh well, we just won’t answer any call bells then.” She chuckled.

  Tanya’s head jolted up and over to the voice that was obviously unfamiliar with the personality in charge. “I will be the judge of that!”

  The crew member’s face dropped and her shoulders shrunk.

  The painfully awkward briefing came to end, and we headed to the elevator.

  Two waiting pilots turned around as the sound of roller bags crept up on them.

  “Hello Tanya. Six hours, five to Lagos. Weather’s fine.”

  “Thank you.”

  The two pilots raised their eyebrows and exchanged glances.

  After a silent elevator ride, we began our trek to the aircraft via the crew bag drop. The captain and first officer led the way, followed by Tanya. I walked alongside Simon behind the other eight cabin crew, allowing him the opportunity to share his advice.

  “You see how we’re walking. The captain must be at the front. Never walk in front of him. Behind him will be the first officer and the cabin leader, and then everyone else. It’s a company image thing. I’m sure you read it in the guide.”

  “Yes, I remember seeing that in there. No problem.”

  “Good. And pick your battles here. Because, chances are, you will lose.”

  “I’m not here to fight.”

  He smirked, as we continued our march through the airport.

  “Make sure you manage your fatigue too. It will drive you crazy otherwise. You will lose your mind and you will end up doing something stupid. Trust me, people have lost it here!”

  “Ok, sure.”

  “And remember, drink as much water as you can. Use a rehydration formula with it, because after a while, plain old water will just run right through you.” His tone was urgent.

  I nodded, as we passed through a crowded retail area.

  “Now look at the people around you. Remember you are always on show. Whenever you have that uniform on, people will watch you. You’re a fantasy for some dirty old man, and an aspiration for some little girl. The terminal is the catwalk!”

  He was right. Heads turned as we glided through the terminal. Simon flashed his confident grin that seemed to satisfy his desire to be admired for his physical gifts. Eyes looked at me up and down. Some onlookers were discreet, while others were brazenly obvious. Two frat boys stood with their luggage looking at an information board. One caught a glimpse of our flock and nudged the other with his elbow. A cheeky smile crept out on my face. I felt like a celebrity. I liked it, and so did the audience.

  Our aircraft was abuzz, as an army of cleaners scurried around fixing the mess left by the passengers from the previous flight. Caterers heaved heavy carts down the aisles and slammed them into their galley positions.

  “Bang ! Crash! That’s how you load meals for three hundred people in three minutes.” Said Ella, who was now more up beat than she had been in the crew room. Tanya was now out of sight, at the front of the aircraft scrutinizing some poor caterer over something trivial.

  “Here’s some water for you, sweetness,” she said holding out a tub of water bottles for me to take from, “remember to drink, even if you don’t feel thirsty. And eat, I beg you eat, whenever you get a spare second!”

  “I’ll try. Thanks.”

  The army of cleaners, caterers, and engineers, all dressed in high visibility vests, moved around like bees in a hive. They moved quickly and fluently, slamming metal boxes onto shelves and cleaning row after row of seats in a matter of seconds. I felt out of place and in the way, not knowing where to stand without getting in the way.

  “Sorry… Sorry…Sorry.” I felt the need to apologise to everyone who passed me.

  I caught a glimpse of Tanya and Simon in the business class cabin. I could see only lips moving. Tanya was speaking and Simon was nodding his head. All the doors on left hand side of the aircraft were open, letting in fumes of burning engine oil, jet fuel and leaking hydraulic fluid. The story about a class actions against airlines and aircraft manufacturers by veteran airline crews around the world suddenly came to mind. I had read about pilots who had suffered permanent neurological damage from fumes vented through air-conditioning, and flight attendants who had chronic headaches and respiratory problems attributed to the toxic cabin air. I held my breath as a wave of something noxious hit me.

  The army of high-visibility bees slowly dissipated and Simon met me further down in the cabin at my assigned door.

  “So was that crazy or what?!”

  “Yeh. I cant believe how quick they all work and how they can get the aircraft turned around so fast.”

  He giggled at how easily impressed I was. He turned his head towards the front of the aircraft.

  “Ok they’re coming!” He jumped across the aisle to his door and buttoned up his jacket. Another flight attendant thundered down the aisle rushing to her door at the rear of the aircraft, fiddling with her hat as she galloped.

  The need for airline crew to quickly form friendships was immediately obvious. As we sat in the galley eating leftover satay rice from economy, no subject was taboo during my rapid fire ‘get to know you session.’

  “So what did you do before this?”

  “Why are you here?”

  “Are you single?”

  “Are you straight, gay or bi?”

  “So you’ve never done anything with another girl?”

  “How long were you with your last boyfriend?”

  “Why did you break up?”

  “How was your sex life?”

  “Did you ever cheat on him?”

  “Did he ever cheat on you?”

  The girls were curious and leant in as I tried to answer. Simon stood in the background, listening carefully, as he fiddled with his food.

  “Umm, let me think.” Was the best I managed before another question was fired off.

  “Sorry, I hope you don’t think we’re being too personal. There’s not a whole lot else to talk about up here. Anyway, we’re all friends here,” said Ella.

  “Yeh, no worries at all.” I said, hoping to take a break from the interview and eat my cold rice. I guessed that these type of question answer sessions were a form of therapy, or a coping mechanism for lost, homesick crew, desperate for the depth of friendship that usually only comes to most people on the ground after months or years of relationship building. Here in the sky, it had to be done in the spare few minutes between meal services and lavatory clean ups.

  A faint
bing bong rang through the air and Ella picked up the interphone.

  “Yes, Ella in the mid galley…” She was silent. She was listening intently to the voice from the flight deck. In training we were reminded of the reason of how important it was for passengers to hear the captain’s voice over the speakers during an emergency. It was the voice of ‘God.’

  “Yes, okay. Yes captain. We will.” Her face was serious. The grim situation was written all over her face.

  “The captain says we might have an aero-toxicity situation.”

  Simon and the other girl gasped.

  “You know what this means.” Ella said looking at Simon.

  I looked at Simon and saw devastation on his face.

  What the hell is aero-toxicity? Why don’t I remember this from training?

  It was not the time to be questioning anyone.

  “Okay, Simon, you begin your checks. I’ll call the others. Liz, the captain wants you to take a plastic bag, and go to the rear galley to get a sample of air.”

  “Huh?”

  “Yes, that’s right. Take this bag and go to the rear galley. Scoop in some air and bring it back. Maria’s down there and she’ll help you if you’re not sure what to do.”

  “Okay.” My hands shook as I took the white bag from Ella and turned away toward the galley curtain.

  “Oh, and remember,” Ella said, “stay calm and it will be okay. The passengers will be watching our reaction to the situation.”

  I nodded my head and walked down the economy cabin, my gaze focused straight ahead. Don’t let them see the fear, I thought. My heart was thumping as I reached the rear galley.

  “Okay Liz, just wave the bag in the air until it puffs up. You’re doing well.” Said Maria, her Italian accent somehow giving extra punch to her directions.

  “Like this?” I was desperate for reassurance and furious I had missed it in training.

  “Yes. Good job. Now tie it shut. The captain will need to test it. I just hope we’re going to be okay.”

  My eyes widened with alarm as my twitching fingers tried to tie a perfect seal around the air sample.

  I tried to focus and breath as I walked up the aircraft, carrying the ballooning bag, adrenalin shooting through to every extremity.

  The first officer was standing in the galley chatting to the crew. They stopped talking as I entered.

  “Ahh good, thanks, Liz.” The tall pilot said in his Tennessee drawl, taking the bag from my hand.

  He studied it.

  His face was solemn and focused on the emergency.

  He ripped open the top of the balloon-like, air-filled bag and brought it to his nose. He inhaled deeply. He brought the drooping bag back down and held it at his side. He stared into space. He was thinking.

  “Yes….,” he paused.

  The wait was excruciating.

  “Just as I feared.”

  The thumping echoed. My head felt lighter.

  “Catering has indeed been giving you road-kill to cook for the economy meals.”

  The group burst out laughing.

  “What?!” I asked, my mouth wide open.

  The first officer could no longer hold a straight face. The penny dropped.

  I smiled. I breathed. I was relieved we were not going to die a horrible death by asphyxiation.

  I laughed.

  “I can’t believe you all did that! I hate you all,” I said, my laugh contradicting my words.

  “Oh Liz, you poor thing. I’m sorry,” said Ella, trying to speak between bouts of laughter, “but, you know. They do it to everyone. We had to get you at least once.”

  “And you!” I looked at the pilot, who was dressed so respectfully. I poked him in the stomach.

  Not what one would usually take such a liberty to do, but he had broken a certain barrier between flight deck and crew with his prank. He laughed and flinched as I jabbed my index finger at him with each word.

  “I didn’t think you’d fall for it.” Said Simon, grinning with his big white teeth. “You seemed so clued on.”

  “I thought there was something not right about it,” I said, “but hey, who am I to question you on my first day..?”

  Ella leant out and put her hand on my shoulder in a gesture of sympathy. “You know when I was new, they got me so bad. They put dry ice under a rubber door seal so that the white steam effect you get came under the door as if it was coming from outside. I had to call the flight deck and tell them the clouds were coming in under the door. I’m still trying to earn back their respect!”

  We all exhaled in an audible sigh, satisfied with the prank.

  “Sorry Liz, but we had to,” said the smiling Southern pilot, “okay, I’d better go back before the boss demands to know what I’m doing down here.”

  “Who? The captain?” I asked.

  “No, the other boss.”

  We all knew exactly which boss he was talking about.

  “Thanks Daniel.” Said Ella.

  He left through the left side curtain as Tanya entered through the right.

  Party over.