Free Flying by the Seat of My Pants: Flight Attendant Adventures on a Wing and a Prayer by Marsha Marks
Authors: Marsha Marks
woman in the front row, finally looked up as Jan approached and then leaned over and pulled out a tiny personal fan, which she pointed in the direction of the hot towels. When the smoke parted, the woman grabbed a hot towel, saying, “Delighted, I’m sure.”
After that I hid the dry ice from Jan.
C HAPTER 29
Dreams of Sleeping in the Ice Bucket
I t seemed like a good trip in the beginning. The reason I chose to work it is that the first night’s layover included twenty hours at Daytona Beach, Florida, in a hotel right on the beach. My husband agreed to drive the four-hour trip from our home in Savannah, Georgia, with our seven-year-old daughter, Mandy. We would all stay in a fine hotel, eat at fine restaurants, and play at the beach.
Everything went as planned. Tom, Mandy, and I had agreat twenty hours at the beach making a memorable home movie. Mandy later said it was the best movie she ever saw.
The second day of the trip looked easier than the first. I would simply fly two easy legs: Daytona to Atlanta, then Atlanta to Newark, New Jersey. What could go wrong?
The first thing that went wrong was that after a night and all day at the beach with my family, I was tired. On the Daytona Beach to Atlanta trip, we flew in the early evening, and I had difficulty staying awake. Next, my allergies were acting up. When I couldn’t find my allergy medicine, in desperation (I mean I can’t work with a drippy nose) I took an over-the-counter sleeping pill that contained an antihistamine, thinking I’d be in the hotel room in Newark in less than two hours before the I’m-drugged-and-can’t-stay-awake feeling hit me.
I took the tablet at 9:30 p.m. Our flight was due to take off at 9:43 p.m.
Our pilots were late arriving in Atlanta, delaying our takeoff a bit. Then, just as the pilots announced we were ready for pushback, a flash of lightning lit the sky near our aircraft. All takeoff times were delayed, and an hour later, the airport was shut down. Here I was—barely conscious—on the airplane with all the passengers, sitting at the gate for two hours. Finally at 11:30 p.m., we took off. I have very little memory of that flight. My coworker said she couldn’t believe how awake I seemed. And that I appeared to function normally.
But in reality, I faked staying awake. For weeks after that trip, I had a recurring nightmare in which I was draped over one end of the beverage cart with my face down in the ice: my eyes were open, but I was sound asleep. In my dream, my coworker pushed me along, saying the passengers, “Beverages? Beverages? Oh, don’t mind the sleeping flight attendant. We’ll use a different bucket of ice for your drink. Beverages? Beverages?”
I have never again substituted over-the-counter sleep aids for allergy medicine. You just never know when the flight will be delayed several hours and you’ll be tempted to use an ice bucket for a pillow.
C HAPTER 30
Sleeping in the Closet
I was on my way from Seattle, Washington, to Atlanta, Georgia, and there were no seats on the airplane. So I had to fly “jump seat.” Jump-seat riding is what flight attendants do when there are no passenger seats but they want to travel so bad they are willing to sit on a hard little seat that is virtually unpadded and meant to harness crew for takeoffs and landings.
Only trained flight crew are allowed to fly jump seat. It is not comfortable, but it does get you where you are going. We can be in street clothes on the jump seat, but we have to have our IDs out and available. On this trip, the captain turned offthe seat-belt sign and left it off. As soon as the sign went off, I talked to the flight attendant in charge, whom I knew, and mentioned how tired I was. I told her about flying all night the night before and spending the day running around visiting friends. And how difficult it was going to be sitting up on a jump seat all night. “Well,” she said, jokingly, “there is no one in the
After that I hid the dry ice from Jan.
C HAPTER 29
Dreams of Sleeping in the Ice Bucket
I t seemed like a good trip in the beginning. The reason I chose to work it is that the first night’s layover included twenty hours at Daytona Beach, Florida, in a hotel right on the beach. My husband agreed to drive the four-hour trip from our home in Savannah, Georgia, with our seven-year-old daughter, Mandy. We would all stay in a fine hotel, eat at fine restaurants, and play at the beach.
Everything went as planned. Tom, Mandy, and I had agreat twenty hours at the beach making a memorable home movie. Mandy later said it was the best movie she ever saw.
The second day of the trip looked easier than the first. I would simply fly two easy legs: Daytona to Atlanta, then Atlanta to Newark, New Jersey. What could go wrong?
The first thing that went wrong was that after a night and all day at the beach with my family, I was tired. On the Daytona Beach to Atlanta trip, we flew in the early evening, and I had difficulty staying awake. Next, my allergies were acting up. When I couldn’t find my allergy medicine, in desperation (I mean I can’t work with a drippy nose) I took an over-the-counter sleeping pill that contained an antihistamine, thinking I’d be in the hotel room in Newark in less than two hours before the I’m-drugged-and-can’t-stay-awake feeling hit me.
I took the tablet at 9:30 p.m. Our flight was due to take off at 9:43 p.m.
Our pilots were late arriving in Atlanta, delaying our takeoff a bit. Then, just as the pilots announced we were ready for pushback, a flash of lightning lit the sky near our aircraft. All takeoff times were delayed, and an hour later, the airport was shut down. Here I was—barely conscious—on the airplane with all the passengers, sitting at the gate for two hours. Finally at 11:30 p.m., we took off. I have very little memory of that flight. My coworker said she couldn’t believe how awake I seemed. And that I appeared to function normally.
But in reality, I faked staying awake. For weeks after that trip, I had a recurring nightmare in which I was draped over one end of the beverage cart with my face down in the ice: my eyes were open, but I was sound asleep. In my dream, my coworker pushed me along, saying the passengers, “Beverages? Beverages? Oh, don’t mind the sleeping flight attendant. We’ll use a different bucket of ice for your drink. Beverages? Beverages?”
I have never again substituted over-the-counter sleep aids for allergy medicine. You just never know when the flight will be delayed several hours and you’ll be tempted to use an ice bucket for a pillow.
C HAPTER 30
Sleeping in the Closet
I was on my way from Seattle, Washington, to Atlanta, Georgia, and there were no seats on the airplane. So I had to fly “jump seat.” Jump-seat riding is what flight attendants do when there are no passenger seats but they want to travel so bad they are willing to sit on a hard little seat that is virtually unpadded and meant to harness crew for takeoffs and landings.
Only trained flight crew are allowed to fly jump seat. It is not comfortable, but it does get you where you are going. We can be in street clothes on the jump seat, but we have to have our IDs out and available. On this trip, the captain turned offthe seat-belt sign and left it off. As soon as the sign went off, I talked to the flight attendant in charge, whom I knew, and mentioned how tired I was. I told her about flying all night the night before and spending the day running around visiting friends. And how difficult it was going to be sitting up on a jump seat all night. “Well,” she said, jokingly, “there is no one in the
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