Hey, it's been a while, but apparently which flight attendant crew works which flights or gets any time off at all during the busy part of the year is based on seniority, and I'm absolutely the lowest on the totem pole, so the past month in particular has just been crazy, especially considering things were kind of slow before that, although sort of frustrating because of how all this works.
I was kind of a nervous wreck that first day, because I'd never been on a plane before, and while I crammed all the manuals and stuff more than I had ever studied for a test in high school, this seemed like it would be really different. I tried to tell myself that I picked up how to work any piece of big equipment that got thrown at me on the farms pretty quickly, and it's not like I would be flying the plane, but I still feel kind of awkward walking around as Dunia on level, non-moving ground, and should probably consider myself fortunate that high heels aren't part of the uniform. Dunia likes her wedges, but I'm in sneakers or sandals most of the time.
I got to the airport early on the first day - in addition to never having been on a plane before, I hadn't used a bus since junior high and wanted to give myself enough time - feeling kind of ridiculous in my uniform with the little neck scarf and hat, afraid I'd suddenly turn back to myself and look ridiculous, or that I'd be stopped when I tried to use my employee ID to bypass the line for passengers. You'd think I'd give off some sort of wrong vibe, but apparently not.
Or maybe I do but people just assume it's for something else, like it just being your first day in a new job. There was a three-person cabin crew that first day and for most of the first month, because we were assigned to a fairly small plane doing shuttle flights between Miami and Atlanta, and when I got there, I was greeted by a Latina woman a few years older than me who introduced herself as Rosa and looked at me a little strange, but that was apparently because I wasn't wearing nearly as much makeup as she thought I should. "You're very pretty without it," she said, "but people expect a more visible effort, you know? Like, people get nervous flying, and want to see you looking like you're ready for anything. Especially you and me, you know?"
I didn't, but apparently a lot of Latina women go really heavy on the makeup, or at least that's the stereotype. I've been Dunia for nearly three months now and it seems like a lot of lines that seem very clear back home are blurry here. I'd brought some cosmetics in my bag - at the time I was just starting to figure them out, but at least grasped that I might have to fix something mid-air, before finding out what things cost in airport terminals - and Rosa knew exactly what to do, even with my darker skin. By the time she was done, I wasn't sure what I thought, because it was the kind of look that kind of works for me even though I always tell myself that I like girls who don't use a lot of makeup more, so I was kind of judging myself in a couple ways, but also thinking that, yeah, this is kind of what looks appropriate for someone in this kind of job, like, kind of fake, but in a way that says you're at work and trying to present yourself well and this maybe isn't who you are in the off hours.
It was pretty close to time to report to our gate when Lambert ran into the ladies' room right past us so he could puke in a stall. Rosa's eyes went wide - she later confessed that she was having flashbacks to someone at a different job who showed up hungover a lot - and I shooed her out, saying we'd spent the last few weeks together. Once I was pretty sure there were no actual girls in the room, I walked over. "You okay, dude?"
He looked down at a bit of his hair that had gotten in the way, thinking a bit before reaching for some toilet paper to wipe it off. "Man, I can't do this. I get so nauseous and half the time I take Nyquil or something before takeoff! I should just go in and quit!"
"Hey, don't leave me alone! Just think, I don't think Dunia would want this job so much if it wasn't a good one. Besides, you've got Alicia's stomach and inner ear or whatever, so you shouldn't get airsick, right? They've been doing this job for years."
He didn't look totally convinced, but didn't say anything. We got his hair cleaned up the best we could with hand soap and paper towels, and then got to work.
That first day was kind of strange in every way, but Lambert and I both did okay. Miami to Atlanta is a short enough flight that we barely have time to do anything between takeoff and landing, although some folks just absolutely need a coffee in midair, or more often one of those little bottles of alcohol to calm their nerves. Confidentially, I kind of think half of them are just looking to have one of us lean over a row of seats so that they can reach up and "accidentally" touch our boobs. I flinched pretty badly the first couple times, but after that I just sort of figured that's what guys were going to do. My butt was also a very tempting target, and I kind of like that even less. Boobs are just weird and don't belong on my body, so I don't really feel upset like I do at having my butt slapped by a man, which feels really inappropriate.
Lambert has bigger boobs than me, so he was more of a target for that, but he seemed to get over his fear of flying pretty quickly. Maybe It's just that Alicia/Harmon got used to it on a way that transferred over to him, but i think he just likes bossing people around more than he hates flying. Not that he can really boss the passengers around, but he can raise his voice when warranted, and he really puts on a good show of being senior to me and Rosa.
It's not so bad once you get used to the weird sensation of the plane moving. Apparently Harmon called it being "a glorified waitress", but I kind of prefer it to farm work. There are a lot of people who are kind of jerks either because they're nervous or just jerks - my mom is a waitress on the ground and she's got stories! - but you kind of get used to it.
The pays not really great, though, I guess because it's a job that a lot of people think would be fun for a while, but also because you don't really get paid while you're in the airport. I gather some airlines don't start paying you until the cabin doors close before takeoff or after they open on landing, even though dealing with people who act like what they were told about carry-on bags doesn't apply to them is maybe the most frustrating part of the job, but you definitely don't get paid for the time between working a flight from Miami to Atlanta and the one back. Even on days when you've got three round trips, that's not quite 8 hours of work even though you're out of the house early and back late, and before holiday travel started, we didn't have a lot of those full days. I don't find it a huge problem - farmers back home love to find ways to keep you off the clock and I don't have a lot of living expenses starting with Dunia's father - but it really pisses Lambert off, especially when we wind up sick in the Atlanta airport of a few hours and he's boxing about how this isn't helping pay the rent on Alicia's apartment.
Dunia kind of eats every detail about it up, though, demanding I fill her Instagram up with pictures from her first day and anything interesting that happened afterwards, and kind of loves cute selfies of me/her/us in the uniform. I joked about her being a pervy old man once and she seemed hurt, and I get it; she'll have all these first times in a few months but she'll have to act like they're old hat and wants to have some sort of record of the way she's going to feel. And it's not like I'm not kind of enjoying it. It's kind of nice to put on a uniform and have people kind of jealous of your job and get to help folks like you know what you're doing, and i do look kind of nice. I could do without folks slapping my ass as I walk by, but they're going to do that to Dunia as she walks to the grocery store.
I'll be kind of glad when the schedule gets a little less crazy in the new year, though, especially since Lambert and I will be resigned to a longer route.
- Toby
No comments:
Post a Comment