As most of my east coast lovin' pals know today was an icy, snowy mess resulting in 50 car pileups and endless flight delays. I, fortunately, was not in a car. Instead I was stuck in the Providence airport biding my time until our massively delayed flight arrived. Since breakfast had come and gone about 5 hours earlier my stomach told me it was time to forage. Food choices were meager at best, basically consisting of two options..... Mexican or T.G.I. Fridays, neither of which are very veggie friendly. Anyway, I finally spotted something edible in the form of clam chowder (yes, I eat bivalves). I asked the cashier if the chowder was beef based and/or made with bacon. She replied no, that it was actually made with chicken. Come again? I glanced over at the flight attendant I was working with and we exchanged puzzled looks. "Chicken? Clam chowder with chicken??" I asked. She looked at me and said "Well it sure don't have any bacon and the things floatin' in there taste like chicken." Then she chomped down on her gum and shot me a look that said I will cut you if you dare disagree.
I walked away laughing at the sheer stupidity of the whole situation. And then my stomach punched my liver and told me to shut up and find some food already. Which I was unable to do because apparently everything has chicken in it. Who knew?
Open mouth, insert foot. Repeat.
Sometimes I say really stupid things. Sometimes I may just be plain (gasp!) stupid. Its like my brain takes a leave of absence without letting anyone know. Hello brain? Get it together, like yesterday, please....
On Sunday I was flying from Orlando with three thousand families and forty hundred screaming children. One of the families happened to be little. A family of little people. Four wee children and two wee parents. All very nice. The youngest was a year old and cute as a button, with curly red hair and a lop sided grin that revealed two teeth. She giggled and cooed the entire flight and was the only child that kept me from reaching in a plucking out my ovaries right in the back galley. After we landed I went back and asked if they needed any help with their multiple car seats and bags. They reassured me they were fine. So, as I usually do with cute infants, I bent down and patted the baby on the head. Then I opened my mouth and in an adoring tone stated that she was "the cutest little munchkin I've ever seen!". GAH!!!! What was I thinking! I mean, I call all kids munckins as a term of endearment but I CANNOT believe I said that. I'm not even sure if the parents heard me, but I KNOW the people behind them did by the look of horror on their faces.
That is one of the stupidest things I've done in a long time. Okay, maybe not a LONG time, but close to it. Here are a few other "you're an idiot!" moments I'd like to forget....
- The time I ran over a business mans foot with my drink cart and yelled (why did I yell?) "Sorry dude!!". Who says that? He glared.
- When I very sweetly asked the lady in row six "Ma'am, what would you like to drink tonight?" only to realize that the ma'am was a man. A very ugly man.
- Back in my sorority days I walked into a room to find a couple of my sisters talking to a pre-pubescent teenage boy who I assumed was one of their siblings since it was family week. After repeated fawnings of "You are so cute!" and asking the girls who's brother it was I got the hint. Or should I say the wide-eyed stare of disbelief. I, being obliviously stupid, trotted out of the room and asked my friend who's brother that was. She gave me a weird look and told me that there were no boys in that room. Only a lesbian. Oy!
Feel free to lighten my load and share your horrifying moments with me. I beg of you.
Its official! My first REAL medical emergency....
After a chat with my beautiful SIL (sister-in-law whom birthed the most amazing niece in the world) I was reminded that I need to blog more. And? Quit with the cliff hangers already! Oy! So, I thought that I would (FINALLY) fill you in on the heart attack story. Which at this point will be very anti-climactic, but thats okay with me. Because, I, Ashlie, am finishing something I started. Now I just need to tackle that plaid jumper I began sewing back in '93.....
We were in our initial descent when a flight attendant call light dinged in my section. I went over to find a woman grasping her chest and telling me that she couldn't breathe. I immediately went and called the other flight attendants and the captain to let them know the situation. When I went back to her seat the woman was ashen and sweating profusely. The lady next to her said that she was a doctor, started taking her pulse and told me to go grab some aspirin. Now, here's the deal. Both women were foreign and I was having a huge problem understanding them. The lady with the medical problem was Armenian and the doctor was from India. Communication was not at its finest. Anyway, I ran back to her seat with water and aspirin (properly banging myself on every shoe, armrest and elbow down the aisle. I must have looked like a human pinball machine....). When I reached her row, I knew that the situation had gone from poor to worse. The doctor looked up at me and said "I can't find her pulse!" and the woman had turned a shade of grey I've never seen on the living. At that point I noticed that her eyes were rolled in the back of her head and her lips were blue. Now, I don't swear unless there's a hammer and a thumb involved but at this point my first thoughts were something along the line of "shitty, shit, shit, shit..." and other proper four letter words. I grabbed the woman by her shoulders and started shaking her and yelling "Ma'am are you okay? Ma'am are YOU OKAY?". No response. I looked at the doctor for help. She looked at me. I shook and yelled again. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity the lady came to. This lasted for about a good 20 seconds before she lost consciousness again. And came to. And lost consciousness. It seemed like I was on the verge of CPR every 30 seconds. I kept on repeating the CPR compression/breath ratio in my head like it was Brad Pitts phone number. At that point I glanced outside and realized that we were moments from landing, where an artillery of paramedics would be meeting the plane. The woman was conscious and looked like she was doing better and the doctor assured me that she would hit the call button if the situation changed. So I ping-ponged my was up to my jumpseat and buckled myself in. I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins almost like a living thing. My mind was clear, my body was focused and my heart was racing.
As soon as we landed the medics came and got her off the plane. I gave her a hug and helped her with her items. It was quite the ordeal. I've seen many people faint (two days ago, I caught a fainter) and lots of anxiety attacks, but this was NOTHING like those. Those feel like a mere blip on the emergency radar while this felt like a four alarm fire. Whether or not it was a heart attack it scared the crap out of me. But? I handled it, and since I plan on flying until I wither up and die in the aft galley, I know that this situation will more than likely strike again. And when it does I will be ready. You can bet your life on that....
*Parts of this ordeal have been ommited due to privacy and time (no-one wants to read a twelve page manifesto on the different shades of blue one persons lips can turn....). Rules were followed to a "T" and a proper IR was submitted ASAP. So there.*
We were in our initial descent when a flight attendant call light dinged in my section. I went over to find a woman grasping her chest and telling me that she couldn't breathe. I immediately went and called the other flight attendants and the captain to let them know the situation. When I went back to her seat the woman was ashen and sweating profusely. The lady next to her said that she was a doctor, started taking her pulse and told me to go grab some aspirin. Now, here's the deal. Both women were foreign and I was having a huge problem understanding them. The lady with the medical problem was Armenian and the doctor was from India. Communication was not at its finest. Anyway, I ran back to her seat with water and aspirin (properly banging myself on every shoe, armrest and elbow down the aisle. I must have looked like a human pinball machine....). When I reached her row, I knew that the situation had gone from poor to worse. The doctor looked up at me and said "I can't find her pulse!" and the woman had turned a shade of grey I've never seen on the living. At that point I noticed that her eyes were rolled in the back of her head and her lips were blue. Now, I don't swear unless there's a hammer and a thumb involved but at this point my first thoughts were something along the line of "shitty, shit, shit, shit..." and other proper four letter words. I grabbed the woman by her shoulders and started shaking her and yelling "Ma'am are you okay? Ma'am are YOU OKAY?". No response. I looked at the doctor for help. She looked at me. I shook and yelled again. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity the lady came to. This lasted for about a good 20 seconds before she lost consciousness again. And came to. And lost consciousness. It seemed like I was on the verge of CPR every 30 seconds. I kept on repeating the CPR compression/breath ratio in my head like it was Brad Pitts phone number. At that point I glanced outside and realized that we were moments from landing, where an artillery of paramedics would be meeting the plane. The woman was conscious and looked like she was doing better and the doctor assured me that she would hit the call button if the situation changed. So I ping-ponged my was up to my jumpseat and buckled myself in. I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins almost like a living thing. My mind was clear, my body was focused and my heart was racing.
As soon as we landed the medics came and got her off the plane. I gave her a hug and helped her with her items. It was quite the ordeal. I've seen many people faint (two days ago, I caught a fainter) and lots of anxiety attacks, but this was NOTHING like those. Those feel like a mere blip on the emergency radar while this felt like a four alarm fire. Whether or not it was a heart attack it scared the crap out of me. But? I handled it, and since I plan on flying until I wither up and die in the aft galley, I know that this situation will more than likely strike again. And when it does I will be ready. You can bet your life on that....
*Parts of this ordeal have been ommited due to privacy and time (no-one wants to read a twelve page manifesto on the different shades of blue one persons lips can turn....). Rules were followed to a "T" and a proper IR was submitted ASAP. So there.*
Ewwww, followed by Argh.
Hey folks! I'm writing to you from Providence, wine glass in hand, white chocholate chip cookie in belly. Today was an easy two legger with the last flight only booked to 84 people. The problem was that at least 83 of them smelled like various forms of decay. The front of the plane reeked of b.o., not just any b.o. but a super-duper pungent version which (this may be the wine talking) had undertones of uncleaned body parts with just a hint of tuna and a rotton fruit topnote. It was delightful. I almost threw up. Soooo, I moved to the back of the plane to try my luck there. About two minutes in the scent of flatulence wafted through the recycled air. Mmmmm. Farts. It was bad enough to wake up a passenger in the back row and prompt him to ring his flight attendant call button just to ask if we (FOR THE LOVE OF GOD) had some air freshner. We did. A minute later it smelled like a raspberry fart. Mmmm....
Moving on to a less smelly subject. I was mentally compiling a list today of the top ways to annoy a flight attendant and I thought that I'd share. It may (and will) be added onto later.
Moving on to a less smelly subject. I was mentally compiling a list today of the top ways to annoy a flight attendant and I thought that I'd share. It may (and will) be added onto later.
Top Ten Ways to Piss off your Flight Attendant!
- Poke them when you need something. Aim for the ribs. They really like that.
- Leave your bag/handle/strap/foot in the aisle so they trip. Try to do it when they are balancing something precariously. Like? A couple glasses of red wine.
- Fall asleep when they take drink orders. Wake up when they're passing them out. Act very, very offended that they didn't wake you up to take your order for 6 ounces of Coke.
- Decide that your Starbucks coffee cup NEEDS to be thrown away RIGHT now or else gravity will stop and the earth will fall of its axis. Extra points if its during the saftey briefing.
- When handed snack look at offending package like flight attendant may be offering free MALARIA and not peanuts and crackers.
- Take at least 30 seconds to decide that peanuts are malaria free and then and ONLY THEN accept tenatively. Add glare for effect.
- Forget to wash your body parts for say, a year. Or two.
- Leave door open after eating ungodly amounts of bean burritos at the airport and unloading them in plane lav. Make sure flight attendant is eating his/her lunch within a 3 foot distance.
- Take out all rage for delays/death/weight gain/balding/mother-in-laws on flight attendants. Its their fault right? Duh.
- Point and stare at flight attendant. Then talk in foreign language. Point again for added drama.
Hahahaha. Laughing. People really aren't this rude right? Hahahahaha. Each and every one of these things happened to me today. In a span of 5 hours of flying.
If I didn't love my job.....
p.s. Spell check isn't working. And I've had a glass of wine. Yipes! I'm afrreid to reed itt tommoraw. I hav bad spelin aniway. Boo.
This about sums it up.
Who: All of America.
When: The last 20 seconds of the Super Bowl.
Why: Ummmmm.... hello?
Your welcome.
When: The last 20 seconds of the Super Bowl.
Why: Ummmmm.... hello?
Your welcome.
I had a dream....
Today I was sick. I slept and slept and then (you guessed it) ate ice cream. What? You thought I was going to say that I slept some more? Okay, I did. During the Super Bowl to be exact. I fell asleep half way through the second quarter and woke up with 4 minutes left on the clock, which was precisely enough time to see Mr. Manning throw a steller pass to Plaxico in the end zone. Go Giants! We heart you!
Sidenote: Who the heck names there kid Plaxico? I can only guess that there was heavy drug usage involved.
*UPDATE. Sidenote numero dos: Apparently Plaxico was not involved in the "last pass". It was Tyree. I can only blame heavy drug use and the blinding desire to mock the name Plaxico for this confusion. Cold meds. Bah.*
Anyway, I have decided that I may have prophetic abilities because during the game I dreamt that Eli made a winning pass and the Giants won by a small margin. I won't go into the part where I may or may not have caught the ball and made out with the QB. Don't judge me, I was all hopped up on cold meds.
The moral of the story is: Never hide your natural talents! I will now be offering my athletic prophetic services (it even has a ring!) for baseball season. Win bets and look cool in front of your friends with my help!
Disclaimer: Services are $50 per game, extra for overtime. Must provide with proper napping facilities and cold medication. Results not guaranteed.
Sidenote: Who the heck names there kid Plaxico? I can only guess that there was heavy drug usage involved.
*UPDATE. Sidenote numero dos: Apparently Plaxico was not involved in the "last pass". It was Tyree. I can only blame heavy drug use and the blinding desire to mock the name Plaxico for this confusion. Cold meds. Bah.*
Anyway, I have decided that I may have prophetic abilities because during the game I dreamt that Eli made a winning pass and the Giants won by a small margin. I won't go into the part where I may or may not have caught the ball and made out with the QB. Don't judge me, I was all hopped up on cold meds.
The moral of the story is: Never hide your natural talents! I will now be offering my athletic prophetic services (it even has a ring!) for baseball season. Win bets and look cool in front of your friends with my help!
Disclaimer: Services are $50 per game, extra for overtime. Must provide with proper napping facilities and cold medication. Results not guaranteed.
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