Fasten Your Seatbelts: A Flight Attendant's Adventures 36,000 Feet and Below (16 page)

As I stepped into the aircraft that morning, I smelled a strong fuel odor. Making my way to the back of the aircraft, I noticed it was still there. It was like raw fuel, not fumes we smell from other aircrafts. I called the captain to come back and get his opinion. He said he smelled it but didn’t think it was anything abnormal. Over time it did seem to dissipate.

We boarded the airplane and took off. The flight was uneventful until we landed in Chicago. Quickly, the situation deteriorated.

In the middle of chatting with the flight attendant sitting next to me on the front jumpseat, I stopped the conversation.

“Do you smell something?”

“Yeah, I do” she said. I glanced in the cabin and saw the passengers reaching for their personal air control vents to get some fresh air.

I immediately called the captain and asked, “Do you smell anything up there?”

He said, “Yes, it’s up here, too.”

The cockpit did not seem overly concerned so I resumed my casual conversation with my fellow flight attendant. This time we were interrupted by the chimes of flight attendant call
buttons. I looked into the aisle and this time I saw gray, hazy smoke in the cabin.

I felt the flushing sensation of adrenalin surging through my body. I immediately went into emergency mode. Scared but calm, I grabbed my cockpit key, turned the lock and poked my head into the cockpit while sitting on the jumpseat.

“Captain,” I said. “There is smoke in the cabin — what do you want to do?”

I looked ahead through the cockpit window and saw that we were no longer on a runway but our arrival gate was only about 50 feet away. We were in the middle of the Chicago airport ramp area. The captain decided since the smoke was not dense and there was no evidence of flames, to advance toward the gate and have a speedy deplaning.

The gate agent opened the forward door to allow the passengers to exit the aircraft. As passengers stepped out, many were holding their mouths and coughing. The first officer was obviously shaken. She accidentally left the PA button on and all passengers deplaning could hear, “You mean we are still smoking?” she asked ground personnel in a panicked voice.

I never saw passengers move so fast.

We had a fuel leak and the right engine was smoking. As the passengers were trying to get some air by turning on their vents, the smoke was filtering into the cabin. I do not think at
the time we knew the severity of our situation. Our procedure for smoke in the cabin is to immediately evacuate the aircraft. The captain had to make a judgment call to either proceed to the gate or give the command to evacuate the aircraft where it was. Popping the slides in the middle of the airport with catering trucks, baggage carriers and fuel tankers would be extremely dangerous for passengers as well as ground personnel. On the other hand, a fuel leak could trigger a catastrophic explosion.

Later the captain hugged me for the longest time. “Do you know how close that was?” he asked. We were very lucky to have landed when we did, had that fuel leak occurred mid-flight it could have been extremely dangerous with a vastly different outcome.

On this flight we were the eyes, ears and
nose
of the aircraft.

e have a lot of time to share stories in the back of the aircraft and we often reminisce about growing up and our lives before we were flight attendants. It is another one of the reasons I enjoy flying so much. One trip we were all looking back at our college days, the flight attendants were remembering how much fun they had. I am so envious when they talk about their sorority, what events they attended, or which degree they have. My college experience was not that great, but nonetheless, I do have a few stories to share about it.

My dad wanted one of his children to attend a Bible college. I was the youngest of five; no one before me had gone, so I was the “lucky” one. I had no aspirations of becoming a preacher; I already knew that I wanted to be a flight attendant.

It was a fairly new college campus at the time. There wasn’t any grass; only a bunch of contemporary brick buildings
scattered on clay soil. My mom and dad hated to leave me there. It seemed so cold and uninviting.

The rooms were cramped yet large enough to hold two bunk beds. I was anxious to see who my roommates were going to be. We weren’t allowed to have a TV in our room. Only one television was to be watched. It was placed strategically in a room where what was showing could be closely monitored.

My first roommate knocked on the door. I opened it to find one of the prettiest girls I had ever seen. Her name was Robin. She smiled timidly and walked in. We clicked and I liked her immediately! Later, our other roommate arrived. She was the complete opposite of Robin. She introduced herself and began reading her book. She wanted nothing to do with us, so I was glad Robin and I had each other.

Rules and regulations dictated our lives. We weren’t allowed to go out on a date by ourselves: we either had to have a chaperone or double date. No public displays of affection such as holding hands were allowed, and girls could only wear dresses to school. I often wondered why, because it seemed dresses were more flattering to the opposite sex than pants. But that was the rule.

I met a young man in one of my classes who happened to be the captain of the baseball team. He was very handsome with his deep, dark tan, and had a slight European accent. He
asked me out on a date, but of course we had to have a chaper-one. Luckily, a friend of mine met someone, so we were able to double date (with permission that is!)

We had a great time getting away from the campus. At the end of the date, he kissed me so I kissed him back. Where I came from, kissing was no big deal. I guess here it was. The next day I heard rumors that I was easy because I kissed on the first date.
Oh brother. It was just a kiss
. Needless to say, that was it for him.

Robin and I were chosen to be on the pom-pom squad. The one thing that was missing from this school was some excitement and adventure, so we decided to make some of our own.

The boy’s dormitory was right across from the girls. Our roommate was going to be out of town for the weekend, so we told some of the guys to look out their window around 9 p.m.; “You’ll see a show.” We were desperate for some fun. I gave Robin a frilly outfit, and I put on another. They really weren’t anything revealing; just some baby doll pajamas.

We turned on some music and did our little pom-pom routine for the guys across the way, enjoying their applause and appreciation. However, our giggles turned to anguish when someone knocked loudly on the door. We closed the shades, quickly changed into our pajamas, and slipped under the covers. The banging on the door continued.

I gingerly got up and opened the door while wiping my sleepy eyes.

“Yes,” I said. It was the dean of men!

“I saw you girls from the other dorm,” he said in his deep, commanding voice. “I am going to have to suspend you from all activities this weekend.”

I explained it was very innocent; we were just having fun. He didn’t want to hear any of it. If we were dancing erotically, I could understand, but all this fuss was over an innocent pompom routine.

The school required students take a minimum number of religious courses along with other academic studies. I was nearly overloaded with 21 credits. Among those were Christian Science, Theology, and Evangelism. Every day we had to attend chapel. We piled into a bus that took us to church. During that time, our room-mother would come by to check to see if our rooms were tidy. If they weren’t perfect, we would receive a note saying specifically why it wasn’t. If it passed inspection, the note simply said “great job” with a smiley face on it.

With all the homework and studying to do, chapel became a nuisance for Robin and me. I don’t know which one of us came up with our next brainy scheme, but it was probably me. We had a drop ceiling in our room made of large, square pieces
of tile that could be moved. We thought if we moved one of the large squares to the side, we could crawl up into the ceiling, take our flashlights with us, and do some studying during chapel.

That is exactly what we did. When it was time for chapel, we jumped on top of our bunk bed, crawled through the hole and sat on top of a steel support beam. We stayed there studying with our flashlights until we heard our room-mother come in and leave. This worked great for a couple of times. Unfortunately, as our room-mother was checking for tidiness, she saw there were remnants of ceiling chalk on the top of the bunk bed.

All of a sudden there was a loud knock underneath us. Our room-mother was thumping the ceiling with the hard end of a broomstick. Our hearts were beating harder than the broom. We were busted again. Humbly, we climbed down from the ceiling. Our room-mother vocalized how disappointed she was and sent us to the dean of women.

Each one of us took turns in the interrogation process. Robin went first. She left sobbing.
This couldn’t be good
. The dean looked at me with coldness and without a word I followed her in. I explained how innocent it was and we were only studying.

“I swear to God that is all it was,” I said.

“You swear,” she barked. “You are never to use the Lord’s name in vain.”

But I wasn’t taking the Lord’s name in vain
. It was of no use. I had to sit there and listen to her lecture. The result was once again suspension for the weekend with no activities or television.

This school was getting old, really fast. I wanted to get out of there. I ran track in high school, so I thought I might try running. Maybe that would keep me out of trouble. At this point though, I wanted out. This was no place for me. I got so desperate I prayed,
“Please God, get me out of here.”

A miracle did happen that day. I was running around the track when my side began to hurt. I remember sitting next to a tree in terrible pain and sobbing. Not one person stopped to ask what was wrong. Not that I wanted them to either. I ate dinner and still felt the pain on the lower side of my abdomen. I walked up some steps and collapsed. An ambulance rushed me to the hospital.

The doctor said my white blood cell count was extremely high and that my appendix needed to come out. He called my parents and said he could not wait for a signature and needed to operate immediately.

One thing I do believe in, is the power of prayer. I can’t tell you how many times in my life where I prayed from the depths
of my soul and my prayers were answered. My prayer to get me out of that school was no exception. After a week of healing from a successful appendectomy, I packed my things and never went back.
Hallelujah
!

loved living in Atlanta! The seasons are mild and spectacular, especially the spring and fall with lingering color that lasts for several months. The negative part of living there is the traffic and commuting to work.