SIX EXITS

The lovely Tina has tagged moi with seven random things. Since I've already done one about myself, I thought that I would do seven randoms about being a flight attendant. Drumroll puleeze!!!!!

1. The rumors are true. Some flight attendants have a guy in every city OR due to the wonders of the Internet they can whip one up in 5 minutes on a ground stop in Philly. I know. Gross. The divorce rate in airlines crews is astronomical. Its pretty sad....


2. We hate it when you ring your flight attendant call button to hand us "emergency" trash or get you that pillow when we're doing our safety demo. If your flight attendant is doing a mad dash down the aisle or carrying 25 drinks just be patient for a couple of minutes and then signal us. We'll take care of it and not be super-annoyed. This will ensure you spit free drinks the rest of the flight. Just kidding. Kindof.
   


3. Unless you ate bad cheese in Mexico please do not get up when the seat belt sign is on. We are required by law to inform every passenger that "it is not safe to be up right now, the fasten seatbelt sign is still illuminated", after telling the 80th person this spiel we may not be wearing our happy face anymore. Not to mention that we don't want you falling on us when turbulence hit and poking us is the eye while simultaneously knocking out our contact lense. It's happened.


4. Airlines crews are drinkers! Just head to your nearest 3 star hotel by the airport and sit in the bar for a few minutes. The two older gentlemen semi-tacky clothing with the pretty twenty year olds and middle aged gay men are flight attendants and pilots and they can put your wildest college buddies to shame. With discounts such as 1-2-3 ($1 beer, $2 wine, $3 mixed drinks) some tend do be a bit wild. I, on the other hand, am mocked relentlessly when I order my one glass of wine and go to bed by 10pm. What can I say? I love my liver.


5. Flight attendants are extraordinarily vain. I've met more people (ladies AND men) who've had plastic surgery in the airlines then I did living in Los Angeles. I KNOW, weird right? Why is this? I have a few theories. One is that we are in the public eye alot, doing our little demo's, making speeches and sashaying up and down the aisle. The funny thing is that the passengers probably don't remember what their flight attendants looked like 10 minutes after they deplane. The second theory is the amount of magazines we read. I find a treasure trove of Intouch, People, InStyle, Cosmo, Glamour, Star and everything else under the sun after each flight. Ask me if J.Lo is having twins, Katie Holmes cut her hair or what Vogue says about wearing vests this season and I will know the answer off the top of my head. Its a sickness.
   
   
6. We love to complain and we're not picky about the topic. It could be the man in 7C who ordered five drinks, the temperature in Phoenix, the pilots, the other flight attendants, the hotel, the bed, the gym, the sandwich is Austin or our new uniforms. You name it and someones complained about it. Not to say that we have bad attitudes, be we just looove our complaining!
7. Flight attendants and their supervisors mix like oil and water. The damage done by a small number of fa supervisors has created a huge distrust among the two groups. A lot of people have told me that they avoid being in the same room as their supervisor. Of course, there are still the few with the constant brown smudge caked on their nose. The perpetual teachers pets...
   
   

*Disclaimer: I only have one guy in one city and (surprise!) I'm married to him. I do hate "emergency trash" but I'll never spit in your drink. It wasn't my contact that got knocked out. I drink about 4 times a month. I'm not the person to party with. I am vain. I will embrace botox later in life. I complain. I hate that I complain. My nose is definitely not brown. Not all of the opinions above reflect the personal beliefs of this blogger. So there.*

Which one of these don't belong? I have a shameful secret to tell you dear Internet. I try to forget about it but everytime I walk up the stairs in my house it hits me full in the face. The stench. Lets start at the beginning.
It's not surprising for a 100 year old home to have mice. Lots of homes get the occasional mouse during the winter months and we thought our home was no different. When my sister Kaitlen
was visiting last spring and saw two mice skittering across our hardwood floor we decided something had to be done. After naming them Freddy and Fredericka I went out and bought two live traps. I lovingly set them up and placed the choicest peanut butter at the end. We would release them at our favorite park. Weeks went by. Months went by. Still no mice. Oh sure, we'd seen them parading around our living room at night and multiplying by the hordes, but they were as stealthy at evading the traps as Amy Winehouse going to rehab.The straw that broke the mouses back (soon to be literal) was finding a one in my travel food bag chowing down on a packet of oatmeal while pooping on my good pen. I screamed. Joel ran upstairs and then promptly to the store to buy traps. The real kind. I cried. I felt horrible at the thought of killing Freddy and his beloved family. But? They were ruining my life.... and appetite.

By now they were everywhere. We could hear them in our ceiling running around like their tails were on fire and gnawing on our walls in the bedroom waking us up at 4am. They chewed through our bags of dried fruit in the pantry and took poops on our sugar and rice. The situation was dire. We set up 3 traps to start with. I told Joel to check them everyday because I sure as heck didn't want to reach into the closet and grab a dead, squished mouse. Over the next month we caught eight....EIGHT....mice. Joel told me with glee one morning that he had caught two mice on one trap in the pantry. Our ceilings became quiet once more and our food seemed safe. Until the stench.

We knew what it was immediately. Our noses had endured this kind of torture before. We (Joel) searched the room and came up with nada. No mouse anywhere. After a few days it became unbearable. We started burning our industrial strength "guaranteed to overpower any smell within 100 feet" Yankee candle for hours a day. Who cares if our house burns down? At least we wouldn't have the stench. I would like to update you to let you know that we found the mouse and have disposed of it properly, but I can't. The mouse is in the wall. The stench is in the wall. Connected to our bedroom. How it died is still a mystery, but all I know is that I've never been happier to spend the night in 18 degree Denver as I am tonight. Sorry sweetie, you can always use the couch..... as long as the sound of mice running in the ceiling doesn't keep you up. Their baaaaacccck!

After that dreary picture I painted of Thanksgiving I must clarify a few things. First, yes Claude, the potatoes were gummy. And runny. It was a real treat. Now that you got to hear the worst of it all, let me tell you the best. It was so nice having company over! Especially a friend from ye olden days of Ashlie and Joel. He brought his charming girlfriend with him and we had a blast. By Friday we were all well acquainted and the food poisoning had settled enough that it wasn't putting a damper on his day. So? We went to the Cheesecake Factory, did a little shopping and watched Beowulf in 3-D. Dress any movie up with "3-D" and I'm a complete sucker. Saturday I didn't have to work until 8pm (thank you sweet baby Jesus!) so we hung out around the house for a more leisurely day. Willy helped Joel put the hardtop on our Jeep and Amy helped me bathe Winnie dog after she ran chest deep into 3 ft of mud at our local park. The mud was followed up by burrs which I had to cut out with my sewing scissors. For that I'd like to say: Thanks Amy for not minding smelling like a wet dog! You are a real trouper....

Here's a little something that made me laugh. You may or may not have read it before. A little late for Thanksgiving perhaps, but right on time for Christmas.

There was a young turkey named Fred

Who was forced to live in a shed.

‘Twas quite all right, for six dark nights

‘Til he realized someone wanted him dead.

~

Fred sat on his bed, all alone in his shed

Pondering his own demise.

Innocent was he, til suddenly

He learned of a recipe.

~

Through the swinging door

Flounced a woman, bound for the store.

Her list noted sherry, butter, onions, and spread

With which to baste poor, succulent Fred.

~

Fred gobbled in horror, and shook with dread.

Visions of mayhem danced in his head.

“Bread crumbs will be stuffed,

Where no bread crumbs belong!”

His turkey heart stopped,

At thoughts of the prong.

~

“I’ll be roasted til warm!

My tender carcass torn,

By murderous hordes, with mouths all agape…

Unless I contrive to escape.”

~

Fred bemoaned not his fate,

Nor the loss of his mate.

(She fled to Mexico, Tuesday last.)

Just stroked his waddle and strategized cunning bait.

~

Devoid of malice, Fred hoisted a ballast,

Trimmed with feathers from his own tasty back.

With any luck, it’s the fake that would bake

On the family’s turkey rack.

(Fred hoped it would taste of old, moldy tack.)

~

Decoy in place, Fred waddled for space

In the Underground Turkey Base.

(A halfway house,

For Turkeys in Need Due to Thanksgiving Greed.)

~

Fred’s tender haunches swaying,

The nasty basset hound began braying,

Alerting the cook to the dash,

Of her prized turkey stash.

~

Fred danced through the yard,

As the woman in her rage knocked a bucket of lard.

Fred weaved from post to tree,

The cook weeping and waving her brie.

~

“Stop him!” she cried,

“Our dinner must be trussed and tied!”

So brawny farm boys tore out,

To save for their dinner Fred’s broad juicy stout.

~

Large hands closing in,

Fred’s gobbling made quite a din.

As he braced his round quarters to be

Dunked in sherry, butter, and tea.

~

“Hark! What’s that ringing?

Are those angels singing?”

Thought poor Fred,

Quite distraught at the thought of being dead.

~

Shrill blaring, brought blank staring

From farm boys unfamiliar with advancements like the phone.

“It’s the President!” yelled the woman

Who to screeching and cheese-waving was prone.

~

“That damn Bush! He’s pardoned our dinner!”

Screamed the woman, brandishing for emphasis her salad spinner.

~

“Thank the Great Fowl above!”

Gibbered Fred, suddenly filled with boundless love.

As he said a prayer for Bush

Witless savior of his tush.

~

The farm boys ate spam

While Fred boarded a tram

Bound for parts unknown,

Filled with relief that his cavities remain unsewn.

~

The End

~

Somewhere Martha Stewart is laughing at me. Thanksgiving didn't quite turn out as planned. Don't get me wrong. The decor was really gorgeous and the smells were channelling Rachel Ray but the whole shebang was a mess. To top it off I don't even have a camera to show you the "good" bits. One of us lost our camera and it wasn't me. Of course Joel said it wasn't him either. Anyway, back to Thanksgiving.
Our company arrived early (an hour before I got home from work) which means that I ran around the house trying to get the airplane smell out of my hair, touch up my makeup, bake the biscuits and worry about being a poor hostess at the same time. Multi-tasking at its finest. That in itself was not that big of deal. The real issues are as follows.... One of our guests had food poisoning and couldn't eat a thing let alone barely hold himself up at the table. I had managed to *sip* two glasses of Riesling by 5pm and my cooking skills went downhill from there. I decided that measuring cups were for sissys and I eyeballed all the contents of my green bean casserole and biscuits. It went something like this "Tra lala, I loves me some wine but now I must make some green bean casserole. What is green bean casserole anyway? Have I ever even eaten it? Would a large bag of frozen green beans equal two cans of green beans? I'm going to say yes. YES TO THE FROZEN GREEN BEANS. YEESSSS!" and later "Hmm... I don't have a potato masher. What shall I do? I know! Lets put the potatoes in the food processor! Weeee!". You get the point. I was a hot mess. If I was to make a recipe for my Thankgiving it would have looked something like this.....

1. First, take one guy and give him food poisoning at The Hard Rock Cafe.
2. Douse with Riesling.
3. Add some more Riesling.
4. Add to much garlic to your potatoes and then put in a food processor for "pureed" rustic potatoes instead of "mashed".
5. Throw some Bisquick in a bowl. Add what you think may be one cup of milk. Or was it two? The Riesling no longer cares.
6. Make something that resembles this mythic green bean casserole. Do not worry about the actual amount of green beans put in. The fried onions will save.
7. Top with Riesling.
8. Pour butternut soup into roasted acorn squash bowls. Laugh when it spills over. Throw some sage on top even though you are pretty sure its supposed to be Thyme.
9. Set cold soup on table.
10. Light candles.
11. Move centerpiece 'cause it is WAY to tall.
12. Call guests to dinner. Even the one puking in the bathroom.
13. Warm up pies. Pies can do no wrong.
14. Nervously watch people eat.
15. Make sure sick guy doesn't puke on table.
16. Offer to bring out pies. No one wants pies.
17. Crawl into bed with bottle of Riesling.

Okay. Number 17 may not have happened but you get the picture. I'll fill you in on more of the festivities tomorrow.....

Love,

The Hostess without the Mostess....

Yes. That means I've been working a lot.
No. I'm not calling myself a witch.
Unless you cut me off in traffic.

I've worked six days this week and am looking forward to going home tonight. Of course when I get there I will be greeted with a house to clean and Thanksgiving dinner to prep for. Lucky me. Its unfortunate that I came from a home with a creative mother who could give Martha Stewart a run for her money. Top that off with my erring towards perfectionism and you have an anal retentive O.C.D. mess. My home must look like a pottery barn magazine on crack and smell like Rachel Rays kitchen after seven 30 minute meals or I just won't be happy. I'm trying to unclench I swear..... Trying. Hard. To. Relax. ACK! Not working....

I'll show you pictures of the carnage later this week. In the meantime for a male flight attendants point of view enjoy Gregs *new* blog!

It looks like were hitting one travel tip a month. I had wanted to do a bunch more, considering that I am an untapped fountain of travel knowledge (ha), but one a month will do for now. At least my readers will be fit and bed-bug free by the time I'm finished this month. That is all I ask..
Keeping fit on the road can be very difficult. The lack of good hotel facilities, eating out and knockin back a glass or two every night can lead to some definite problems. Who here likes bloat (aka jet belly)? How about gaining 5 lbs? How about being so jet-lagged you can barely keep your eyes open let alone enjoy your surroundings? I'm guessing very few of you. If you do like to be bloated please don't tell me. Cause.....ew.
The best way to avoid these things is through a little physical exercise. If your hotel has a decent gym, by all means use it! Just getting in 30 minutes of cardio will work wonders. The more likely scenario is the lack of good equipment. That's where my trusty "gym in a bag" trick comes in handy. To get a full body workout that will keep you in tip-top shape you only need a few things.

1. Exercise Bands/Tubes: These puppies come in multiple resistance levels. They are also small, light and can be used anywhere. Most even come with a book or DVD explaining the moves in detail so even the most clueless person can get a great workout.


2. Jump Rope: Yep, this old school wonder strikes again. Remember the days of double dutch and who could jump the fastest? This one tool can burn a wicked amount of calories while you reminisce about your second grade crush. The only problem with this is sometimes the ceilings aren't tall enough and its frigid outside. But don't worry my friends! Pink JumpSnap has created a ropeless jump rope just for that problem. I have yet to try it, but it looks promising and it also donates money to The Breast Cancer Foundation. Now that's what I call a two-fer!


3. Tunes: Music = motivation. I can't tell you how many times I've been able to push out that last mile on the treadmill because of Jay-Z or JT or some other rockin' song. I've had my IPOD for two years now and absolutely love it. Any music player will do, but I specifically love IPOD for the podcast downloads. This has been my favorite podcast so far. There are also other sites like ITRAIN and PumpOne where you can purchase pre-made workouts for your IPODS.


4. Yoga Paws (optional): 'Cause who really wants to schlep around a yoga mat?


5. FitDeck (optional): Created by a Navy Seal to give you a complete workout in your hotel room or at home. Basically its a set of flashcards with exercises for your upper, lower and core sections. You can mix and match, shuffle or do the prescribed workout. Best of all- no equipment needed. I haven't bought these yet but I'm tempted. There are only so many push ups you can do before it get veeerrrry boring.


6. Towel: Last but not least. Peeps, if you plan on working out on the floor pleeeaase use the hotel bath towel as a barrier against germs almighty. That is all.

Hello Internet, meet Ashlie's big gray rear.

If you wonder where I gleaned my knowledge for today's post I'll fill you in on a little "Ashlie History." I used to work as a personal trainer and I taught yoga and aerobics during college.

If you have any tips or tricks for travel fitness please let us know!!!

I wonder where I get my "witty" sense of humor from? Apparently the dive resort forgot to advertise its killer coconuts.

Then we drove down to Key West. Stopping only to use the filthiest bathroom in the world.

My dad wanted to see how his cigars were made so we stopped at this little shop and watched the lady make Joel a couple of cigars. Raspberry and apple. They are now in the freezer. I think Joel just likes knowing that he has a couple of Cubans on standby.

This is the Hemingway House. As you can tell by the bars it was closed. My dad refused to hoist me over the top to see the mutant cats. I suggested a stakeout complete with cat nip but once again he refused. Bah.

Day Two, Pie Count: 3

We set sail for our snorkeling trip early afternoon. The weather was warm and the breeze was calm as we made our way out to the Molasses Reef. My dad and I, being the only uncool snorkelers, kept mostly to ourselves. Once a diver found out we were snorkeling they would usually say "oh, you're snorkeling..." followed by a sniff and a subtle turn to start a conversation with another diver. The segregation was almost comical. Even the crew who was so focused on the divers forgot to tell us to stay within 100 feet of the boat as to not get HIT by other boats. At one point as I was following a couple of barracudas only to look up and see a huge glass bottom boat within spitting distance. The passengers were about to see a new species below their feet....bloody snorkeler.

Aftermath: My dad and I have decided to get dive certified for next year. Once I realized that I couldn't pee on the divers below me snorkeling lost most of its charm.

I love this picture! My dad taking the big leap off the boat. I used the ladder. I am a wuss.

Why are all these people so pensive looking? Are they contemplating what to do when they meet the local Nurse Shark, Lucy?

This is the windblown look. Complements of sea water, sunshine and uh... wind.

If I was a super hero I'd be Wetsuit Woman. My powers would be squeezing into tight Lycra outfits and making pouty faces. My arch Nemesis would be bloat and botox.

Day Three, Pie Count: 4

Before we made the sojourn home we decided to check out Key Largo and Islamorada a little more. Of course we ate more pie. God bless Key limes and the pie they live in.

We got a complete demonstration on glassblowing. And a headache. I don't know how these people can stare at that flame for hours on end.

One of my favorite stops was at the Wild Bird Rehabilitation Center in Key Largo. This little old woman rehabilitates all kinds of local birds who have been injured or abandoned. She does it purely through donations. The picture below is Pickles, an 80 year old parrot with a big mouth. Apparently he will talk your ear off around closing time. Since it was 2 o'clock we only got a very good impression of a wide-load truck backing up. Or maybe it was a siren. Either way it was amusing coming from an ancient parrot.

What have I learned from this trip? Four pieces of pie in three days is too much. Coconuts can kill. Dads can be friends as well as parents. Diving is the way to go. Doggy paddling can save your life. Wet suits are NEVER flattering. Sharks aren't as scary if they have names like Lucy. Glass blowers will eventually end up blind, and parrots will always bite your finger if they get the chance.

I can't remember the last time I went somewhere with my dad. Without my mom or four siblings. I think I may have had a perm and was probably wearing a Hypercolor tee shirt... Ah, the 80's. So last spring when I suggested taking a vacation, just him and me, he jumped at the idea. We decided on going somewhere warm to do a little snorkeling. Eight months later, here we are packing for our vacation to the Florida Keys. He arrived from Washington yesterday with his signature farmers tan and a look that cried "I NEED A VACATION NOW". Don't worry dad. We'll have your tan evened and that stress melted away faster than you can say "Barracuda at twelve o'clock!"....

Part of the mission of this blog (I have a mission! Wheeee!!!) is informing people about my career as a flight attendant. Whether they're thinking about becoming one or just like reading the plights of us super-stews I'm hoping everyone leaves with a little bit more knowledge. Which is why I've decided to give you a monthly review, sort of like how I review my individual trips. This will give you an idea of how much I work vs. how much I play (and crochet).

• Days I was scheduled to be on reserve: 16
• Days of reserve I picked up for extra $: 4
• Regular trips I picked up for extra $: 1 (picked up a 3 hour turn for $100 from another flight attendant who was desperate to get rid of it.)
• Days of airport standby (a.p.s.b.) I sat: 5
• Hours of airport standby I sat/watched tv/crocheted/read: 23
• Total hours I was attached to my cell phone "waiting" for a call: 240
• Actual days of reserve I worked (not including airport standby): 8
• Total nights spent away from my snoring, sweet husband: 5
• Places I spent the night in the month of October: Columbus, Salt Lake City, Vegas, Tampa and New York.
• Total days I worked in the month of October including a.p.s.b.: 13
• Total days I was paid for in the month of October: 19

Alright folks, lets sum this up. Ashlie was paid for working 19 days last month but she actually only worked 13 of them. But she was paid for 19. Which is nice to be paid for not working and all. And she only had to spend 5 actual nights away from my home. Not too shabby, eh?

Now before all of you apply, I've got to be honest and say that it's not always this easy. There have been some occasions I've been away from my home for 6 nights in a row. Granted, its usually due to my greed. There's been a few moments of "Squeee! Someone put $200 cash on this 3 day trip! I must pick it up right away!" only to look at my screen and realize that I'll be working 2 weeks straight. Most of that is due to my stupidity. But sometimes it can be hard *shudders* work with long days, short nights, bad food and even worse company. I think you all have read in past posts. But really? My job rocks.

Quote of the Day: “Anyone who works is a fool. I don't work - I merely inflict myself upon the public.” - Robert Morley.

Here's what I've been working on all that airport standby time on. Pretty, pretty presents for babies, sisters, friends and grandmas. It's been surprisingly quick, considering I learned how to crochet about 3 weeks ago. Since none of my family and hardly any of my friends read my blog I'm sure my surprises will be safe. Gah. No one cares.... *walks away hanging head in shame*

This is a hat for my nieces first birthday. It took one day of airport standby (5 hours) and an episode of Private Practice to make. It was supposed to have a sock monkey face instead of a flower, but for the life of me I couldn't get past the lips and I kept putting the ears where the chin should be, which is NOT a good look.

This is my first attempt at crocheting a purse. Wait. I guess everything is a first attempt. Anyway, It's really more of a clutch then a purse I guess, since its only about 12x8. It might be my pride and joy at this moment. What you can't see in the picture is that it's lined and the piece of lace was sewn on by hand. It turned out pretty great if I do say so myself... It took one 3 day trip, a day of airport standby and and episode of Beauty and the Geek to complete (I blame the hand sewing).

This was the very first thing I made. It's not perfect. In fact, the perfectionist in me longs to rip it up and "start over" every time I see it. The problem is that I used bulky weight wool for a lighter wool project. Its supposed to be shorter with a slit so you can tuck it into itself. Good idea in theory. In practice I made one side longer than the other. I think I felt a compelling urge to use up all the green or something. Can you tell that's a flower on there? My husband told me it looked like a pink blob. Gah. It took two nights of NBC's fall lineup to make.

I made this little hat for another baby (boy). It was also supposed to have a sock monkey face, but I decided to go for a letter instead. His name starts with an R.
This took one half of the movie The Exorcist to make. Which is a good thing, because I was soooo intent on the hat I sadly missed most the really scary stuff.

If anyone is interested in learning how to crotchet (and I highly recommend it) I used Stich & Bitch Crochet: The Happy Hooker . Its cute, quirky and easy to learn from. Just follow the instructions and you will be a crocheting demon (shout out the the exorcist!) in no time....

p.s. After a hit with the spell checker I realize that I have been spelling CROTCH-ET the whole time. Bonus points if anyone can tell me what a crotch-ette is....

Question of the Day: Does anyone in here crochet? Any patterns, books or tips you'd like to share? Do we have any knitters aboard? Anyone sewing fiends perhaps? Anyone making their Christmas present this year? If you're a crafty lady let us know!