Rambling Ignorance About The Past and Future

I had a dream last night that I was back working at the airline. I kind of miss that job and I’ve been thinking a lot about it lately. Probably because I’m currently writing a piece on how I transitioned out of the airline world into my new career.

Perhaps it’s only in my memory, but I enjoyed the job. Sure, there were rough patches… things weren’t always amazing. But there are memories that I’ll keep until I hit Alzheimer’s.

I remember hanging out in Vegas bars sipping “the best martinis in the world.” I remember walking along the Persian Gulf watching as families, different in almost every way from my mine, played in the grass with their children. I remember the crowds at Oktoberfest. I remember the traffic in Beijing. I remember the drunken chaos of Rio streets at 3 in the morning…

There is nothing quite so deceptive as nostalgia. In many ways, it’s dangerous. When you’re caught looking backward for too long you can forget how to move forward. When you’re stuck trying to recreate the past, you can’t focus on how to create the future.

And what does that future hold? Is it bankruptcy and chaos and the collapse of Democracy? Is it world war and violence and a dog-eat-dog world?

Or is it picnics in the park and smiling children. Is it wealth and luxury and equality of all people?

I don’t know. And neither do you. And neither do the news outlets who are telling us what will happen tomorrow.

We look to the past: for certainty. But the only certain thing is that the future won’t be like the past. So it’s time to get my head out of the clouds.

It may be because I’m young, and naive and don’t know that everything is going to be worse tomorrow than it was yesterday because that's the way it always is.

But if we’re going to get through today, we have to decide what to create for tomorrow.

Hotel Drama

I was just reminded that I haven't posted anything here in almost a month.  Woops.  Sorry.  I'm sure you've all been itching in anticipation.  

The reminder came from another flight attendant, Blondie, who blogs at My View From 30,000 Feet.  She's also on Twitter.  If you're cool enough to be there, too, she's worth the follow.

Alright, I cave.  When flight attendants start whining about flight attendants not blogging it's time to do something about it.  

Last night I layed over in Chicago, at our usual airport hotel.  Have you ever been unfortunate enough to be stuck in a hotel that uses "sleep number" beds?  They're glorified air mattresses. Seriously, who thought that one up?  

Ok.  Enough of my griping.  Here's the point.  We checked in late- like, really late.  It was after midnight by the time we got to the hotel.  I always worry about walking into hotel rooms that late because I've heard stories... the kind of stories that are great as long as they happen to someone else 

This is one of those stories.

A 737 first officer told me this on the hotel shuttle in Portland a few months ago.  I'll try to retell it in his words.  Please forgive me for knowingly manufacturing these quotes.

"So it was one of those hellish days when we work 4 or 5 legs with short sits in between.  By the third leg I really had to go... you know.  Number 2." I think his actual words might have been a little more descriptive.  

"I never use the airplane bathrooms.  I mean, I'd rather go into the terminal and risk sitting next to Larry Craig than use one of our 37 lavs." I made up the Larry Craig part but I think it adds something.  "But with our crazy schedule, I didn't even have time to do that.  I had to either give in and use the plane toilet or hold it 'til we got to the hotel.   I held it and I'm damn proud of it,

"But I gotta tell you.  By the time I made it to my room, I was hurtin'.  Like, serious lower intestinal pain.  But I made it and that's what matters." To be fair, not all Pilots are this gross... or funny.  

"Anyway, I bust in my room and pretty much just rip my pants off and hop onto the john.  Wow.  I don't know what I ate but it was coming out with gusto." ...no misquoting there.  "Anyway, I was only sitting there for a couple of minutes when somebody started banging on my door,

"You know how frustrating it is to be disturbed in the middle of a good..." have I lost my squimish readers?  "So, I get up and answer the door.  It's a big, bald, angry looking hotel-security guy."

"'Can I help you?" I ask him."

"'Can I help you?" he asks back."

"When someone asks you a question like that you look around to see what you're missing, right?  You do it sarcastically to show him how stupid he is.  Unless you happen to see what it is that you were missing- like a man and a woman standing behind you and looking a little freaked out,

"Apparently, my room was already occupied.  'You'll have to come with me, sir,' the big bald guy said to me,

"'Alright,' I told him.  'Can I flush first?'"

That's the story that was running through my mind as I walked into my pitch black hotel room at 1 in the morning last night.  Luckily, there was no one in my bed.  Still, I always check before I use the bathroom.

Somethings just aren't worth rushing.

 

Plane Lands In the Hudson

You've probably heard by now that a plane ran into a flock of geese which shut it's engines down and caused it to crash into the Hudson.  There were no fatalities.

For those of you outside the aviation industry, you're probably thinking, "I'm glad that no one died."  For those of us who have been forced to watch hours of plane crashes, we're sitting around thinking, "That has to be the best pilot ever."  

As far as I know, this is the first water ditching with no fatalities in the history of aviation.  The pilot had to do absolutely everything perfectly and it turns out he or she did.  

I'd just like to congratulate the Pilots, Flight Attendants, and rescue workers for an outstanding performance today.  They're all heros in my book.  Somebody give them a medal.  

The Glory Days

Sometimes I wonder what made me want to become a flight attendant.  Actually, I'm forced to wonder that since the first small talk topic between older flight attendants and relatively new flight attendants (those of us with less than 7 years) is, "What made you want to become a flight attendant?"

I have to tell them something.  

"Well, I majored in Fiction Writing."

Sometimes that's enough and the conversation moves on.  Or they press further.

"Well how did you end up here?"

The truth is I just kind of fell into it.  I was surfing around on Monster.com about 2 weeks before graduation thinking, "now would be a good time to find employment."  I saw a job opening for "Flight Attendant" and clicked on the link for more info.

It took me to a welcome screen and asked me to take a pre-qualifying online test. Sounded good.  I waste half my time taking pointless tests on the internet anyway.  One more wouldn't hurt.  

I took the test and answered such difficult questions as

•  "Is stealing from your employer wrong?"
  
• "Should you help a customer even if it's outside of your job description"
• "5+5+5=?"
• "Is it acceptable to be a few minutes late for work if your employer doesn't notice?"

Surprisingly I passed the test.  Even more of a surprise was the screen that I was taken to that said, "When can we fly you to Chicago for an Interview?"

Uhh... two week sounds good.  

After a series of mind-numbing interviews I was offered the job.  

Sure, what the heck.  I have nothing better to do for the next two years.

That's essentially how I fell into this gig.  

But now it's almost 2 years later.  My friends have moved on to real jobs with real salaries and here I am, making less than $20,000 a year from the airline.  

It's easy for me to get frustrated.  Where's my big paycheck?  What am I doing here?  Why didn't I pick a more practical college major?  I should have listened to the guidance councilors and majored in business.

These little mental hissy-fits usually only last an hour.  Then I remind myself that last month I was eating in a little restaurant in Zurich Switzerland.  The month before that I was in Kuwait City watching the sun set over the Persian Gulf as the Mosque called out the evening prayer.  The month before that I was walking through a Buddhist temple in Narita Japan and before that I was standing on the Beach in Rio De Janeiro.  

Why would I regret those experiences because I'm not making enough money?

What's the purpose of money if all you can do is work?  

I look at my education the same way.  It's not useful because of the money I can make from having a degree, it's useful because it positions me to be successful with my goals.  

I'll keep improving my experiences and soon enough the money will come.  I just see a few options and follow my gut.  It's worked out for me so far.