Read Online Flying by the Seat of My Pants: Flight Attendant Adventures on a Wing and a Prayer by Marsha Marks - Free Book Online
Authors: Marsha Marks
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started to throw a fit. “First, you mess up my whole day!” he said. “And now you want me to sit in the middle seat? Well…
you can just forget it. I’m sitting here!
” He pointed to the aisle seat that was occupied by Mr. Nice Passenger.
It was time to depart. Everyone else had boarded. Mr. Mean Passenger would not sit down, and I didn’t want to delay the flight and inconvenience all the other passengers. Even taking the time to go out and get the agent could cause us to lose our takeoff time. I simply didn’t know what to do. Then Mr. Nice Passenger spoke up. “Hey, you know, it’s no big deal. I’ll take the middle seat.”
Although I had never seen Mr. Nice Passenger before, in that moment I loved him and asked Peaches to not charge him for any extras.
Now, standing at the beverage cart, Peaches asked Mr. Mean Passenger what he wanted to drink. He answered andthen got angry with Peaches because we didn’t carry the type of beverage he wanted. Peaches said, “Sir, I would like you to know that I am a former Miss—”
I jumped in. “Peaches, perhaps Mr. Mean Passenger would like this,” and I showed him a new beverage we had just started carrying. Fortunately, that worked and Peaches moved on to get Mr. Nice Passenger, sitting in the middle, his diet beverage with a lime garnish. Only she forgot the lime. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her suddenly stab a lime and reach over Mr. Mean Passenger’s head to put the lime in Mr. Nice Passenger’s drink.
Except Peaches dropped the lime right smack on top of Mr. Mean Passenger’s head. It just fell off the stir stick. Quicker than you can say peaches or berries, I saw a disaster brewing. Peaches—who knew proper etiquette required never touching a lime with her fingers—grabbed a bunch of napkins, reached for the lime, and grabbed it good. So good, in fact, she ripped up not only the lime but the entire toupee that had been glued to Mr. Mean Passenger’s hairless head.
For a minute time stood still as Peaches looked at the bald head beneath her and the toupee in her hand. Then she simply dropped the toupee right down into the open briefcase on Mr. Mean Passenger’s lap. And turned to the next person. “Beverage? Sir? Would you like a beverage?”
There was not a sound around us as all eyes went to Mr.Mean Passenger. Then we heard a hissing. Mr. Mean Passenger looked up at Peaches and said between clenched teeth, “I’ll have your job.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” said Peaches. “You see, I just noticed your name tag, and you work for my daddy’s corporation. And sir, I am quitting today, and I think my daddy would want to hear about your behavior.”
And that was the last flight Peaches ever worked.
And an amazing flight it was, too.
C HAPTER 26
The Job Gets Difficult
A ll my company asked me to do was show up on time, be groomed, and be kind.
I couldn’t do it. It was too much pressure.
I mean, I could do some of those things, you know, some of the time. But never, it seemed, all three in conjunction with one another. Some days I could be groomed. But not on the days I was on time. And most days I could be kind. In fact, some days I could be kind to everyone I met, every minute of being with every person—and then come home and have a kindness meltdown.
This happened to my normally quiet and soft-spoken girlfriend Karen.
Karen had just finished a three-day trip, serving hundreds of people an hour for seventeen hours of flight time. As she trudged up her front steps, using every ounce of her 105 pounds to pull her thirty-six-pound suitcase to the front door of her home, all she could think about was getting herself something to eat and drink and sitting down.
Her husband, a former football linebacker, was watching television in the living room when she came in the front door. As she walked past him to the kitchen, she heard him say, “Honey, would you bring me a drink and a—”
“The rest of his question
you can just forget it. I’m sitting here!
” He pointed to the aisle seat that was occupied by Mr. Nice Passenger.
It was time to depart. Everyone else had boarded. Mr. Mean Passenger would not sit down, and I didn’t want to delay the flight and inconvenience all the other passengers. Even taking the time to go out and get the agent could cause us to lose our takeoff time. I simply didn’t know what to do. Then Mr. Nice Passenger spoke up. “Hey, you know, it’s no big deal. I’ll take the middle seat.”
Although I had never seen Mr. Nice Passenger before, in that moment I loved him and asked Peaches to not charge him for any extras.
Now, standing at the beverage cart, Peaches asked Mr. Mean Passenger what he wanted to drink. He answered andthen got angry with Peaches because we didn’t carry the type of beverage he wanted. Peaches said, “Sir, I would like you to know that I am a former Miss—”
I jumped in. “Peaches, perhaps Mr. Mean Passenger would like this,” and I showed him a new beverage we had just started carrying. Fortunately, that worked and Peaches moved on to get Mr. Nice Passenger, sitting in the middle, his diet beverage with a lime garnish. Only she forgot the lime. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her suddenly stab a lime and reach over Mr. Mean Passenger’s head to put the lime in Mr. Nice Passenger’s drink.
Except Peaches dropped the lime right smack on top of Mr. Mean Passenger’s head. It just fell off the stir stick. Quicker than you can say peaches or berries, I saw a disaster brewing. Peaches—who knew proper etiquette required never touching a lime with her fingers—grabbed a bunch of napkins, reached for the lime, and grabbed it good. So good, in fact, she ripped up not only the lime but the entire toupee that had been glued to Mr. Mean Passenger’s hairless head.
For a minute time stood still as Peaches looked at the bald head beneath her and the toupee in her hand. Then she simply dropped the toupee right down into the open briefcase on Mr. Mean Passenger’s lap. And turned to the next person. “Beverage? Sir? Would you like a beverage?”
There was not a sound around us as all eyes went to Mr.Mean Passenger. Then we heard a hissing. Mr. Mean Passenger looked up at Peaches and said between clenched teeth, “I’ll have your job.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” said Peaches. “You see, I just noticed your name tag, and you work for my daddy’s corporation. And sir, I am quitting today, and I think my daddy would want to hear about your behavior.”
And that was the last flight Peaches ever worked.
And an amazing flight it was, too.
C HAPTER 26
The Job Gets Difficult
A ll my company asked me to do was show up on time, be groomed, and be kind.
I couldn’t do it. It was too much pressure.
I mean, I could do some of those things, you know, some of the time. But never, it seemed, all three in conjunction with one another. Some days I could be groomed. But not on the days I was on time. And most days I could be kind. In fact, some days I could be kind to everyone I met, every minute of being with every person—and then come home and have a kindness meltdown.
This happened to my normally quiet and soft-spoken girlfriend Karen.
Karen had just finished a three-day trip, serving hundreds of people an hour for seventeen hours of flight time. As she trudged up her front steps, using every ounce of her 105 pounds to pull her thirty-six-pound suitcase to the front door of her home, all she could think about was getting herself something to eat and drink and sitting down.
Her husband, a former football linebacker, was watching television in the living room when she came in the front door. As she walked past him to the kitchen, she heard him say, “Honey, would you bring me a drink and a—”
“The rest of his question
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