Fasten Your Seatbelts: A Flight Attendant's Adventures 36,000 Feet and Below (12 page)

long time ago, I was working on a 727 aircraft as the coach galley flight attendant. Our airplane was boarding, and I was busy setting up my cart when someone caught my attention. I looked up and a face appeared in the little window of the aft door. He had a big, brown mustache and dark, curly hair. He flashed a big friendly smile and waved to me. I waved back and thought to myself, “
I could have some fun with him
.”

I walked maybe four to five steps to the window. Some aircrafts can be entered from the rear, a 727 is one of those aircrafts. When I peered into the window, no one was there. In fact, it was pitch black and the stairs were not lowered. It would have taken him eight to ten steps to get down the stairs even if they were lowered. I called the pilots and asked if they had raised the stairs to the back of the aircraft. They said no.

I was puzzled. The captain asked us to prepare for departure. After my duties were all done, I sat down on my jumpseat
and to my surprise a little note was attached to my side of the seat. “To Chris,” it said. I opened it up to find a little message saying something to the effect of beware of the riches and materialistic things in life. I asked the flight attendant next to me if she placed it there. She hadn’t. I asked if she told anyone else my name on that flight. Again she said no. Was it an angel or perhaps my guardian angel? I’d like to think so.

tephanie and I liked to take short getaway vacations on our days off. One of those trips led us to the island of St. Croix. We stayed for a total of four days at the hotel where the crewmembers usually stay during layovers. We knew the pilots working the airplane to St. Croix and asked if they would like to join us on our adventures for the first day. The first officer said absolutely, but the captain wasn’t up for it. We all agreed it was better to have a man with us. Little did we know how much we were going to need a man for this adventure!

We rented a tiny two door car and drove to the opposite side of the island searching for just the right place to eat dinner. We settled on the only place we could find. The food wasn’t great, but the rum punches were delicious. Man, were they potent. We stumbled into the car and started singing. We tried to think of all the theme songs to old TV sitcoms.
The Brady Bunch, The Addams Family, The Partridge Family
— just to
name a few. We began reminiscing of our younger days. The first officer shared the story of his first sexual experience. It wasn’t a warm apple pie like in the movie
American Pie
. It was actually between two seat cushions on the couch. I’m sure he was mortified the next morning for telling us his secret.

Meanwhile, on the way to the hotel, we saw and heard something that sounded like a good time. After parking the car, the three of us casually walked over to where the sparkling lights and action were taking place. When we got closer, we realized all eyes were on us as we accidentally intruded on a genuine Rastafarian party. No other Americans were there. It was too late to turn around, so we agreed to have one rum punch and leave.

A nice looking guy with a thick, long braid kept staring at us. He later made his move. “Which one of you is with him?” he asked. Both of us clung to the first officer. The Rastie took my hand with a smile and walked me out to the dirt dance floor that was surrounded by twinkling lights. I tried to make the best of the situation, so I moved my feet to the reggae music. Actually, I was starting to have a good time when my partner shifted a little too close and began dirty dancing. His body swayed to the left then to the right with his ‘you know what’ on my leg. All eyes turned on us as the other dancers began to laugh!

Stephanie was trying to help me, but they bumped her away. My sense of panic was igniting when my hero came to the rescue. The first officer grabbed my hand and yanked me off the dance floor. The three of us took off sprinting toward the beach. We ran as fast as we could. As I was running, I could see strange mounds on the sand in the distance. Because it was nighttime, I couldn’t be certain. As we approached, we realized the mounds were actually people making out. We couldn’t wait to get out of there. After climbing into the car, all three of us sat speechless on the way to the hotel.

The next day the first officer went to work, so Stephanie and I were on our own. We thought we better stay close to the hotel. (I can’t imagine why.) While we were doing some duty-free shopping, we noticed an advertisement for parasailing. Neither one of us had ever gone, so we signed up.

We walked to the rickety pier and saw the name of our boat with the captain waving to us. It looked safe enough. I watched parasailing done before where participants stood on the sand as the boat took off, lifting them in the air. Here, the boat did all the work for you. The cables gracefully lifted you up and down. The captain was a jolly soul. He prided himself on having the best boat that could sail a person the highest.

At first it was fun riding the waves as the water splashed our faces. But as the boat rocked back and forth in the deepening
ocean waves, my nervousness was trumped by fear. I’m not a very good swimmer, so the thought of flying above the ocean scared me.

Thank God Stephanie took her turn first. It looked as though she was having a good time. I waved to her as the crew carefully lowered her safely to the boat. In her words, it was purely awesome. That relieved my fear a bit. The Captain said no worries as he gave out a chuckle. I put my harness on and whoosh, up I went.

Slowly my fear diminished and I opened my eyes to take a peek.
Hey, this isn’t so bad
. I saw large sea turtles swimming beneath me. The clear, turquoise water was breathtakingly beautiful. I even saw a stingray gracefully floating. I was amazed at how you could see so perfectly through the depths of the ocean. I was now in my glory, thanking God for being able to see such tremendous beauty.

Soon, my bliss turned to sudden anguish. The boat was slowing down. Assuming the worst, I thought something happened to the captain’s ship. I was slowly falling. This didn’t happen to Stephanie.
What’s going on?
I descended lower and lower and was heading straight into the ocean. My feet hit the water first. It was freezing! The water touched my neck. I almost screamed out for help when my harness jerked and I was lifted up to the glorious sky. When the captain
reeled me in the boat, everyone was laughing at me. I didn’t find it so funny.

We later had a nice dinner and packed our clothes for the trip home. We spoke of where our next exciting adventure would take us. I assured her there would be no parasailing involved.

was known as an adventurous flight attendant who enjoyed each and every layover to the fullest. I had fun with the crewmembers, but never crossed the line. With the horrible experience and tragedy of my attempt at marriage, I had lost a piece of myself and missed having fun, so I kind of went through a wild and crazy phase for a short time. Okay, maybe a little more than
kind of
. (Family members, please skip this chapter).

I flew international in Miami after I left Raleigh. It was absolutely the most spectacular time of my flying career. The phrase I found myself repeating was, “I can’t believe I am getting paid for this.”

Taking the double-deck tour bus in London was awesome; cruising on a boat ride down the Seine River in Paris was breathtaking; viewing the northern lights while flying to Alaska was phenomenal; eating Wiener schnitzel in Frankfort
was scrumptious. But Rio de Janeiro was the most memorable — and where I got into the most trouble.

Let me describe the main reason for all the madness. There is a delicious drink called Caipiroska or Caipirinha. It is basically straight alcohol, sugar and lime. It tastes similar to lemonade, but after two drinks you are considered legally drunk. It makes you do things you normally would never do.

The most memorable layover in Rio started with our flight crew going to see a cabaret-like show. All twelve crewmembers sat down at a long table eagerly anticipating what was ahead. As I looked around, I noticed the audience dressed elegantly, as if in London seeing a play. I also noticed a mirrored wall with two scantily clad females dancing. Finally, the show began.

A mermaid was first to sing her sweet song, flashing her colorful fin. Next, exotic dancers wearing sparkly sequined costumes and feathered headdresses gyrated through a samba. After the show, most of the crewmembers wanted to turn in for the night, but the first officer and a male flight attendant wanted to continue on with the evening and dance the night away at a discotheque. No one else wanted to go, so I said I would.

We had a great time dancing and trying to communicate with the Brazilians. The guys kept giving me drinks, and I slurped them down. Finally, around 2:30 a.m., I told the guys
that I needed to return to the hotel; my head was spinning. A few minutes into the cab ride, I will shamefully admit, I threw up. What was especially awful was we had previously eaten at a churrascaria (a buffet-type place). I felt horrible for the cab driver. The last thing I remember was getting out of the cab. That was it. I totally blacked out!

I woke up the next morning on my side, naked. A man lay next to me with his arm around me, naked. I froze. Everything was hazy as I desperately struggled to remember what happened.
Oh my gosh, did a Brazilian follow me back to the hotel? Was it the male flight attendant? No, he was married
. I was hoping, under the circumstances, that it was the single, good-looking first officer. I slowly turned around and breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God, it was the first officer! “Good morning,” he said, and tried to kiss me. I was mortified and felt horrible. I was not exactly kissable at the moment. My hair was pasted to my face, and I was sure I looked hideous. I don’t know if anything happened that night (and he wasn’t sharing), but he was kind enough to wash out my pants and shirt in the tub and get me on my feet. You’d think I would have learned my lesson from this experience, but nooooo.