SIX EXITS

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.*

Somewhere around Thanksgiving people tend to lose their "cheer" and start behaving badly. Fingers fly while driving, voodoo dolls are taken out of the closet and flight attendants become verbal punching bags. Even the most cheerful, laid back person may buckle under pressure. Last week I did. Instead of sighing and shaking my head I reacted. A well dressed couple had left a gigantic mess on their seat and floor after deplaning. We're talking ground cheerios, the New York Times, empty bottles and one delectable smeared burrito kinda mess. And since we were only on a short stop I would have to clean it. I confronted them, nicely of course, but I told them in not so many words how rude it was. I walked around the next hour just shaking my head in amazement at the audacity of some people until something happened that would change my view for a long, long time.....

His name was Noah. He boarded the plane and practically bounced down the aisle. When I said hello he looked up at me and gave me a wide, shaky grin from ear to ear. From the bottom of his sneakers all the way up to his Harry Potter glasses he radiated happiness and warmth. After his mom led him to a row in the back I continued greeting the passengers and in general forgot about him until the flight attendant working with me leaned over while pouring drinks and said "The little boy in my section is a Make A Wish Child, isn't that sad?" My heart sank. I knew that it was Noah.

I finished my service quickly and began making a "crown" out of peanuts and putting together a care package which consisted of some playing cards, wings and a couple other small tokens. After taking a few deep breaths I went over to his row. Noah looked up at me with his big, shy eyes and slowly took my gifts. His mom smiled softly and thanked me. Then we started talking.

Noah is seven years old and was flying to go see Santa Claus for what will more than likely be his last Christmas. Along with his winning smile he has a rare disease that doesn't even have a name but will take his life. But he's not scared. He's a happy, bright little boy who loves Santa, his family and his cat. He also wants to go skydiving. His mom has found a jumper who will take a terminally ill child in Hawaii. That's his last wish. He's only seven and he has a last wish. Why should we be so lucky to even get the chance to complain about trivial problems when this little boy won't get to see his 8th birthday?

Sometimes humanity shines brightest under inhumane conditions and as I walked away from his row I realized that my attitude was all wrong. Please remember Noah as you go about your day. Pray for the doctors to diagnose this illness and find a cure in the small amount of time he has left. I'm praying that my attitude and heart will change to be a little bit more like this amazing boy who loves life and lives each day to its fullest....

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!

• Overnights: First night we stayed in the ever humid city of Tampa, Fl. My overnight was only 12 hours so I didn't get much of a chance to enjoy the hotel pool. Sad. The second night was in NY.

• Legs (number of flights in one day): The first day consisted of 4 legs. This was after sitting FIVE hours of airport standby. I arrived at the airport on Sunday at 10am and didn't get to Tampa until 11pm. Major sucktitude. Did I mention each leg was full? Bah. The second and third days weren't as bad. I even had to dead head (ride non-working flight to get me to my next trip) the 2nd day.


• Hotels: I saw a cockroach in Tampa a few months ago, so I've been leery ever since. Fortunately it was bug-free this time. Not that I would have noticed, 'cause I slept like the dead. The hotel in NY was awesome. A really nice Hyatt with super comfy beds and even an IPOD alarm clock. Tres chic!
  
• Crew: I'm going to keep it short and sweet. Positives: They were good flight attendants and the customers liked them. Negatives: One of them liked to hear her own voice and would hop on the PA system about every 3 seconds. Even when we only had 11 pax. The other was a clone of Michel Gerard, the french receptionist on Gilmore Girls. Since my name is not Lorelai Gilmore I had issues dealing. Many, many issues...

• Customers: During boarding I had to stand smack in the middle of the airplane and greet the customers. Also known as the "sandwiched" flight attendant position. Anyway, I had my most charming smile in place and was handing out hello's with abandon when one gentleman sneered at me. Not just a normal sneer, like, an Elvis sneer. Twice. It's hard to explain but it was one of the most bizarre things I've ever seen. The flight right after that another guy chirped at me when I asked how his day was going. An actual bird chirp. Even the pax around me look bewildered. The craziest thing about this was that both these guys were straitlaced businessmen. Suits and all.


• Stories: The pilots this trip were really nice, so the second day I decided to visit them up front. Okay... maybe I did this for my own sanity to get away from the other 139 people in the plane. Anyway, the captain told this funny story about another pilot we'll call Bob. Bob lived in Nashville and was notorious for calling in sick every time his plane went through the city. If he had only flown 2 hours of a 4 day day trip but it went though Nashville he would call in sick. Apparently he was making such a habit of it that one day after checking in for a trip the chief pilot (head-honcho pilot) called Bob into his office. He explained to Bob that they were on to him and he needed to knock it off. Bob nodded his head, picked up the chief pilot's phone and called in sick. He then turned to the chief and said "I can't fly when I feel bad, and you're making me feel bad". Needless to say he retired a few months later.

Pictures:

This is my favorite spot on all my overnights. Isn't it pretty? Tampa has such nice weather, so you can sit on the swing and watch the ducks all day long. Um...not that I could watch ducks all day long. I am so lame.

This is one of the cushiest hotels in the system. Here's the IPOD alarm clock. I tried jamming it in my suitcase but it wouldn't fit.

p.s. I don't steal. 'Specially from hotels 'cause they will get you. Oh, and karma would come and hunt me down, just like Earl.

Yes. I am writing you from a closet at my hotel. Okay, the hotel calls it a "computer room" but with one computer in a small dark, damp 6x8 room I call it a closet. In fact, I've had bigger closets in my lifetime. Much bigger. To top that off, the keyboard is sticky and I have to POUND it to get half of the letters to work. GAH!

This trip has been a 8 on the trip suckky scale (10 being complete nervous breakdown material). My crew, um... my mom said not to say anything if you can't be nice and that about sums it up. Also, I got hit in the head with a bag. I was threatened with a lawsuit. I forgot to give a pax $16 change which resulted in more "crew" issues... I'll give you the complete rundown of suck-titude tomorrow. When I have a keyboard that doesn't give my forearm cramps.

On the plus side I got to catch a show on National Geographic this morning called "Crash in the Mountains". A thrilling tale about an AA flight that crashes, you guessed it, into the mountains. Oh joy. At least I'm not flying over any mountain ranges today.....

Hopefully your week has started better than mine.

Question of the Day: Have any of you started Christmas shopping yet? I'm feeling guilty for not starting. Then again, I am not normal.

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....

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.)

I'm not very good at gambling, never have been, when I win money I get all sweaty at the thought of losing it so I slowly back away from the table and try not to look guilty. My thought process runs something like this: I just won $5 of their money. They will be coming for me soon. Must walk quickly and with a purpose. The most I've ever won was $75 in the first 5 minutes of gambling with Julie while waiting for Carmen Electra to show at our local casino. She never showed. It was a very boring night walking around with my free coke and $75 in my pocket staring at the shiny buttons.

Sometimes my job also requires some gambling. If I get in late will my trip get pulled tomorrow? If I bid Sunday-Tuesday reserve will I get used? If Thanksgiving is on a Thursday does that mean I'll get to hold the weekends off? The most recent being how many days of reserve can I pick up without working? The precise answer is 2. Now I'm stuck with a crappy 3 day trip to SLC (Salt Lake City, bed bug USA) and LAS (Vegas). This time I'll try to practice what I preach and keep itchy welt free. Hopefully. My 11 hours in Vegas will be charming I'm sure.

Tomorrow- #6 and 7, promise.

Right now I'm sitting in an overly airconditioned room in Fort Meyers, Florida planning the best way to murder the computer I'm working on. This has to be the most frusterating post EVER. First, my key didn't work for the business center. Then I had to wait 30 minutes for maitnence to come and unlock the door and after all that the freakin computer wouldn't even turn on. When it finally did it made a sound like a 737 taking off in Orange County (noise abatement procedures = crazy takeoff and screaming pax's). Not a pretty site. As I proceed to try and look at anything it's virtually impossible because I have to refresh about 20x just for the site to actually work. Top that off with an "ergonomic" keyboard so I keep on typing "u" instead of "o" and end up with something like this: huw are yuo> I amn not fine. freaking suun of a !$#*!^ cumpoter! I'm guing tu kill yuo and maim yuor babiez.

It's best that I leave now to take my aggressions out on the treadmill. And follow that with a heavy dose of laying by the pool reading People magazine. I will post tomorrow with pics of my overnight. Have a guud day and keep me in yuor prayers.

Well, I'm sitting here chilling in my friends nursery. Hmm? Wha? Yes, I non-reved (*see flight attendant lingo 101 for definition *) to Ohio on Monday to visit/help/gossip with my very, very pregnant best friend Julie. She's due with her 2nd child early next week and her husband is out of the country on a mandatory business trip. Ashlie to the rescue! Kind of. I'm not very sure how good I would be if she actually went into labor. I HATE hospitals, blood, needles and all things smelling of antiseptic. Who am I kidding? I'd be a mess. On that note I'd like to thank baby Laila for staying in the womb a few days longer. I will buy you an extra pretty Christmas present this year!

It has been really fun visiting Julie. I learned how to put a 16 month old down for a nap (and did it myself today!), tasted Nana's special spaghetti sauce, painted a rocking chair and watched more Big Love episodes than necessary. Fun, fun times. I'm going home tomorrow. But not for long. 'Cause Ashlie has to work the next 5 days in a row.

Here's the part of my job that I like the least. I go to work. I come home and leave the next morning to Ohio. I get home from Ohio on Thursday and I work again early Friday morning. This time I work for 5 days straight. Ugh! Unlike you 9-5ers who get to jaunt home for dinner every night, I am either working and far, far away from home or I'm at home 24/7 on a random Tuesday picking my nails. Feast or famine. Feast or famine. I miss my husband. I miss my dogs. I miss not having to wear flip flops in the bathroom and throwing back the covers hoping not to see the vilest thing ever. A curly hair or a suspicious stain.

So when you walk in your door Friday at 5:30pm please think of me. I will be the one stuck in some Midwest hotel pining for my family and home which I will not see again until Tuesday. Bah.

Is it worth it?

Yes. Over and over again.