Showing posts with label Stories to make your hair curl.. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stories to make your hair curl.. Show all posts

Part Two: Being nice.....

March 5, 2008
So here I was with my new set of shiny cahones (can I even say that on the Internet?) ready to STAND the heck up for myself. When Joel and I were seated at a crappy table in Chili's I asked the waitress if we could move. Score one for Ashlie! When I knew the interest rate on my credit card should be lower I called good 'ol Bank of America and asked, nay, demanded that this LOYAL customer be receiving a better rate. Ask and you shall receive. What started out innocently enough snowballed into something greater. With fangs and possible demonic possession. This culminated into the events which happened last week. They shall now on be referred to as The Days of Reckoning.

Day number one: The Refi Meltdown.
Last Wednesday was a cold, windy day in Baltimore. It also happened to be the day Joel and I needed to sign loan documents for our home refinance. We drove to the massive office building where our title company was located and ran for the door. I, as usual, was not dressed in "weather appropriate attire" and was freezing. I hopped up the stairs and gripped the handle. It was locked. I was surprised to see a middle aged woman standing behind the door. I smiled and motioned. She smirked and shrugged. Five minutes later after Joel and I had ran around the ENTIRE building looking for another door (which there was none) we arrived back to see a business man standing next to the woman. He opened to door for us. As I stepped in the walkway I started berating her for not opening the door. She shot back. It got ugly. Joel, once again, stared at me like I had three heads. I was FURIOUS. She had pissed off the wrong cold, hungry camper.

Day Two: The Computer Collision.

Friday I had an overnight in Florida. My main goal for those 18 hours was to blog and tan. Both of which had been sorely overlooked this winter. After arriving in the business center to find the computers occupied I left to run. I returned an hour later to find the SAME man glued to his myspace/facebook/eharmony page. He refused to get off the computer. Verbal sparring ensued. He suggested that I call the police if I wanted him removed. I barely had the common sense to leave before I suggested what I thought he should do with himself....

Day Three: The Bacon Incident.

Another day in Florida. My crew member and I met for breakfast in the hotel restaurant. I, being vegetarian, ordered a veggie omelet. Half way throughI tasted something familiar. What the heck? I spit a red colored fleshy blob into my hand (mmmmnnn) and realized that I was chewing on bacon. I peeled apart my omelet and sat the dime size chunks on the side of my plate. The waitress came by and I explained the situation. Two seconds later the cook stomped over to our table told me that it WAS NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE BACON. I explained to him, that yes, infact it was bacon as I had CHEWED. This went back and forth until I told Mr. Cook to get thee heck over to my table and look at the blobs. My crewmate later told me that she had never expected that reaction from me because I was so sweet on the airplane.

Day 4: Old-Man Toothpaste Aisle Smackdown/Is God Testing Me?

Home again. Joel and I decided to make a quick run to Target for a few (who are we kidding?) items. I ended up in the toothpaste aisle while Joel returned a shirt. I picked up two boxes of tooth whitening gel to compare and in the process I knocked one on the flooe. I kicked it out of way to avoid anyone tripping and to pick it up. Did I pick it up at that instant? No. I was still guessing which product would make my teeth glow in the dark. Thats when a little old man bent over and picked up the box. Before I could reply with a hearty thanks, he turned and glared at me and said "What? You can't bend over or something?!?!" which was followed by an even worse glare and a loud sigh/spit. As he walked away I immediately went to follow him. There was NO WAY this mean old man was getting the last word. What happened next will hopefully change me for the better. My husband. My dear sweet husband walked over. He could tell that I was fuming and asked what was wrong. I told him about the injustice of it all and my plot to humiliate the old man. Feign pregnancy? Back injury? Something.... Joel stopped and looked at me shaking his head. He looked me straight in the eye and said "Let. It. Go." Let it go? But I was embarrassed. It wasn't fair. Grudgingly I told Joel that I wasn't going to hunt him down.

Somewhere between the shoes and dvds something changed. The anger that had been coursing through my veins was melting and the frown softened. I began to smile. I begin to feel good about myself like I had done the right thing and been the bigger person. That was two days ago and since then its really been all I can think about. The person I was becoming was not the person I want to be. What happened to the girl who used to wear her W.W.J.D. bracelet and actually try to "turn the other cheek"? It seems that as my empathy for animals and the environment has grown the compassion and kindness for people has waned. I'm always polite on the plane, its my job, but corner me when I'm not working and BAM. You can see what happens. And? I don't like it. I can't blame it on people being idiots, not eating for six hours or lack of sleep. Factors like this will always come into play. I can't choose how people are going to act, I can only choose my actions. And? I want to choose to be kind, generous, caring and empathetic. I think if I keep heading down the same path I've been on the only person I'm going to hurt will be me.

So? Wish me the best of luck, 'cause I'm sure this isn't the easy road I'm taking....



P is for Pilot.

October 18, 2007

I could write a lot about pilots, good and bad, but before I get started I would like say that 90% of the pilots I fly with are really great guys. Another 8% I'm going to let go for having a 'bad' day, but the last 2% have no excuse. Ahhh, those wicked last 2%.

As a brand spankin' new flight attendant I wasn't sure what to expect with crew interactions. I was gullible and perhaps a tad naive (who me???). I learned very quickly. My first month online I was doing a cabin safety inspection before the plane boarded. It was early in the morning and since the plane was empty the pilots were sitting in the front row eating breakfast. Every time I walked by their row they would whisper something and wink at eachother. About four times into this little "game" the captain grabbed me by the waist and pulled me onto his lap. Poor little 23 year old Ashlie was stunned and incapable of moving. He then proceeded to tell me that the company was requiring all new flight attendants to get physicals and wasn't it my lucky day 'cause he could give me one. I was so disgusted it was all I could do to not run off the plane and take a shower.

With those wicked last 2% you can usually expect it to sound like a high school locker room in the cockpit. Most of them have been married multiple times. Most of them wear socks with sandals. Some of them buy you drinks or dinner to get in your pants and some are just being nice. It's really a mixed bag. I could tell you more hair raising tales, but I'll save those for a rainy day, instead let me finish off on a positive note. Last Thanksgiving I had to work, which is always a bummer and everyone know it. The captain brought us gift bags as a token of his appreciation for "showing up and doing a great job." He had included bandaids, Airborne, mints, Tide pens, Aspirin (for when the passengers give us headaches), $10 in ones for van driver tips and a $25 dollar Starbucks giftcard. I had to pinch him to see if he was real.

All in all airline crews are a lot like fruit. Some are sweet, some are bananas, and some are just rotten....

Welcome back to the land of the living, Ashlie.

October 10, 2007
The hardest part (physically) of my job is the odd hours. When you work an AM trip you are typically up and at work between 5-7am. PM trips can start anytime between 12-8pm, which is both a blessing and a curse. On Sunday, for example, my PM trip didn't have to check-in until 6 o'clock. That meant that I was able to go to church, make lunch and be a lazy bum for the majority of the day. It also meant that my head didn't hit a pillow until 2am. Rinse and repeat for day two. My plane didn't even land until 11:15 am last night and by the time I got home it was midnight. Joel crawled up the stairs to bed and I plopped on the couch. Figured that I needed to "wind down" a bit. So I wound down with 3 hours of staring at the computer screen. Very productive, I know. When I crawled into bed at 3am I was whooped. Consequently I woke up at 11am this morning. I will spend the rest of the day "recouping" from my trip and try to reset my body clock by drinking a glass of Riesling, taking a meletonin and going to bed before 11pm. We'll see.....
Anywho, my trip was great even with the really later nights. Here's a summary (new format!):

Tripa-palooza!

  • Overnights: First night was SLC (Salt Lake City), the second was LAS (Las Vegas).
  • Legs (see Flight Attendant Lingo 101 sidebar for definition): The first day was pretty nice with only 2 legs. The second day made up for the first with a jarring 5 legs. The last day only had 3 legs, but they were all pretty long....
  • Hotels: No bed bugs around for all 15 hours in SLC. Even Circus Circus and its crazy, loud, smoky, seizure inducing atmosphere didn't do me in....

  • Crew: Really, really nice. The guy was an avid mountain biker, ex-MP and the girl was a fresh-faced green-card carrying Canadian. Lets just say that the sarcasm was flowing like wine. Very, very delicious wine that I haven't tasted in like 3.5 weeks.....
  • Customers: Not too crazy. Only had a couple weirdo's. I spent a good 10 minutes miming with one little old Asian woman trying to figure out what the heck she wanted. She made these crazy hand gestures at her seat and every time I guessed something she would shake her head vehemently. Pillow? Shakes head. Blanket? Shakes head. Is your seat dirty? Shakes head. She then proceeds to fold up her coat and sit on it. Booster seat? (I didn't actually say this one...) Finally I gave up and got her two pillows. Bingo. Pillows for booster seat. People around me started clapping.
  • Stories: G, my male flight attendant who's been doing the job 10 years, told me this great story. A lady handed him a bottle to warm up in the back. The guy that G was flying with swiped it out of his hands and squirted it into his coffee for a little bit of "creamer." G waited until he had drank half the glass before mentioning that it was breast milk. He said the look on his face was priceless.... Stealing milk from a baby! For shame!
  • "Incidents": After deplaning our 3rd flight of the day a supervisor came on board and asked me if we had just flown in from Ontario. We had. Apparently a *really, really, smart* man had forgotten to get off the plane when he was supposed to. He told her that he went to sleep next to a really heavy woman and woke up next to a hottie and was confused. I'd say so buddy, I'd say so.....
  • Map: Around the world in 3 days. Or at least most the United States. (Note: Pilots do not fly in straight lines....or even walk in them.)


What WERE they THINKING?

September 28, 2007
Flight attendants have the same eating style as most military boot camp trainees. We eat what we can, when we can and try not to complain about it. Okay. Maybe flight attendants complain. But basically we develop a pattern that goes something like this. Run off the airplane to grab a quick bite from the nearest artery clogging "restaurant" in the airport. Try to jam a couple fries in our mouth before the plane starts boarding and then frantically check our teeth for any remnants. Wait 1-2 hours to eat the aforementioned food which is now cold. Eat food standing over trash can crammed in the back of tiny airplane galley with a line of gassy passengers (some people should NOT eat peanuts!!!) waiting to use the lav. Top that off with every third passenger wanting to make conversation about the weather, our route, our lunch and just about everything else under the sun. And being good flight attendants we put down the cold yet life sustaining meal and ignore our stomach trying to climb up our esophagus to strangle us and listen to our bread and butter. You. The passenger.

All part of the job, right? It is. Except sometimes passengers go to far. I worked with a lady recently that told me she had purchased a sandwich, a very delicious sandwich she added bitterly, placed it on the back galley table to eat and went to the restroom to wash her hands. When she returned there was a man standing there cramming HER beloved sandwich in his face. She asked him, and I quote, "Why the hell are you eating my sandwich?" and the man replied "I thought no one was eating it." Well, duh. She then proceeded to remove the receipt for the infamous sandwich and ask the man to pay for it. He refused. She told him that he had precisely 5 minutes to whip out $7.59 (airport food is expensive!) for the meal before she called the captain and had the police arrest the man when they landed. He gave her $8 and was quiet the rest of the flight.

Moral of the story: Don't judge a book by its cover cause it could be plain crazy AND never leave your sandwich alone.

Another reason I'm not a cat person.

September 11, 2007
*Names have been changed to protect the innocent, especially Fluffy.....*

So I'm flying with this guy named Eric on a trans-con flight and he tells me this story I will never forget (but try really, really hard too). Let me set this up for you, Eric used to work on the ground as a customer service supervisor before coming inflight. Decipher? He used to take the tickets instead of handing out the cokes. Here's the scoop:

One day while Eric was boarding a packed flight a man walked up to him all nervous and explained that there was a "situation" someone needed to deal with. When Eric asked the man to explain the situation the man turned red and stammered that he just needed to follow him NOW. Weaving through the gathering line of passengers he made his way over to the seating area where the man feebly pointed to the "situation." Sitting facing the window in plain view to all around was a woman breast feeding. *At this point in the story I broke off to rant and rave about the lack of compassion for women who breastfeed and DON'T you know that its perfectly natural you are so insensitive kind of tirade.* After I calmed down Eric proceeded to tell me that the woman was breast feeding..... her cat.
The cat was a compassion animal who was obviously getting a little too much compassion from this lady. I never did figure out what happened. I was too busy snorting ginger ale through my nose and completely alarming the passengers in the front row.

Looking back on this incident I am totally embarassed to admit to the dear Internet that the first thing that popped into my mind was "Holy sandpaper tongue batman!! Her poor, poor nipple...."
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