Prologue
I wish I could tell every passenger who complains about the seats in coach that they should try these jump seats we flight attendents have to sit on (not in, trust me). Of course we don't have to sit on them long. As soon as we reach ten thousand feet we'll be climbing up the asile (the plane is still cliimbing at quite an angle you know) to help everyone who's pressed their little "ping" button. For now though I'm at peace in my jump seat next to Jazeman Holder and Maurice Jones my two fellow attendents here in the rear of the A320.
Don't get the idea I don't love my job. I do. While I blindly followed my best friend in the world, Lacy Marks into this crazy profession. I do love it and can't think of anything I'd rather do. Our flight today is the second and final leg that began at zero dark thirty this morning in Charlotte, North Carolina. Actually I got up at 4:00am and reported to work at five thirty. The flight left Charlotte at six thirtyish almost on time. After landing in Fort Worth, Texas we vacated the plane (after cleaning our areas) and a cleaning crew did a hurried once over of the whole cabin. Our time off was short and soon we were back prepping things for a mid-day take off back to Charlotte. On the flight out we served breakfast to those who wished to purchase it. This flight will have a lunch for those typical airline prices the passengers complain about. Peanuts, cookies and pop for the rest. Yum. Then of course there are those who have to have an alcoholic beverage whenever they're on a plane regardless of the time of day. Like the rather large woman in 21C. She's been wanting one since before we taxied. Yep, she's already hit her "ping" button.
Another of the lesser perks of the jump seat is no window. The one in the door is tiny and distorted. I love to look out of the windows of an airplane. Even after doing this for three years it just never gets old. The clouds, the landscape far below, and when we're taking off or landing and you can really see the city below I'm just fasinated. That's why I always try to get the aisle jump seat. At least I can catch a peak out of the windows in front of me on either side.
Savanna Butcher's voice breaks my day dreaming spell on the intercom. "Ten thousand folks." She's the head Flight Attendent on our flight. She and Glenn Mitchell are on the front jump seats and handle mostly First Class. Today our flight is full; I think there may be one empty first class seat. We'll have our work cut out for us on today's two hour and twenty five minute flight.
I flick off my seat belt and harness and get up along with my two compadres. Jazeman asks, "Is the lady in 21C still wanting that drink?
"I think so. She's pinged us." I reply.
"Alright, I'll go see what she wants. I can't believe they didn't make her buy two seats. She is one big mama!" Jazeman can be funny. She of course says the last part under her breath.
As she starts climbing toward 21C Maurice chimes in, "She's not kidding, the poor guy next to her couldn't even put down the arm rest between the seats. She'd too big and he's getting squished."
I had been in the forward part of the cabin during loading so I hadn't paid a lot of attention to that particular seat aside from noticing she was large. "Maybe we could move one of them? I think there's maybe one free seat in first class."
"I'll ask Savanna." He turns to the intercom. Maurice is gay although he doesn't act gay like some guys. In fact had he not told me I'd never have guessed. He's really nice and has been a Flight Attendent only a year or so longer than me.
It appears that Jazeman has spoken to all of the pingers in coach so I stay put. I can see she's dealing with 21C at the moment. I busy myself getting the food cart prepped and out of its secure spot. I notice the plane has leveled out a bit and the captain makes his you may get up to go to the restrooms but keep your seat belts on speech. A number of folks begin to make their way to the restrooms just in front of our area in the rear.
Jazeman appears. "I need to make her a drink. I almost told her no becasue she smells of alcohol."
"Really? This early."
"Child she is something else. Complain, complain, complain."
Thirty-five minutes after takeoff we are at cruising altitude and we're ready to begin serving snacks and meals. 21C has continued to be an annoyance to all of us. If Maurice or Jazeman deal with her, they are discrminating against her because she's Muslim. Honestly if she hadn't told us, how would we have known. Where's her berka thing anyway? With me it's even worse; it's because she's black and Muslim.
We finally managed to get the poor gentleman in 21B (the center seat in her row of three) moved to first class but that caused even more controversy. She wouldn't move to let him out because she overheard us say that there was one free seat in first class. She decided she should be the one moved there. Savanna wouldn't agree to that because the lady was so loud and unruley. This brought on another string of epitaphes. He finally actually had to jump over her to go to the restroom and we moved him then including his carry on in the bin above her.
Her language is harrassing and getting worse. She continues to be loud and now as we begin to move the food carts she is cursing at us. She wants another drink and doesn't want to wait until we get to her.
Our normal procedure is for Savanna and Glenn to take care of first class, and then Glenn joins Jazeman at the forward coach cart. Maurice and I then bring our cart up midway and then we begin serving snacks and occasional meals to coach. Both carts moving toward the rear.
As we were pushing our cart foward we began to get compaints from other passengers about 21C. We've identified her as Ahkella Robatu, 24 of Charlotte. I'm still going to think of her as 21C. Savanna has alerted Captain Plaser that we have an unruley passenger. If she gets worse he'll probably have to come back and deal with her. In three years, I've never been on a flight requiring the Captain to intervein with a passenger.
"Hey bitch, I want my Whisky Sour...now!" Jeez will she just shut up? I'm pushing the cart, Maurice is pulling it past her.
"Ma'am, I'll be back in just a bit. Will you please keep your voice down. You are desturbing the other passengers." Not to mention pissing me and everyone else off!
"Fuck that. I want my damn drink." I feel the hackels on the back of my neck rising. I could throw her out the door. Cool down Sam it's only words...Breath.
At last we reach the center of coach seating and begin to offer snacks and meals. Everyone is just wonderful. "Dear, I am so sorry you are having to put up with that horrible woman," One elderly lady tells me.
"I've got a suggestion ma'am." Says a twenty something guy with a black beard. "Duct tape!" I have to smile and agree but only by nodding. Maurice is getting helpful suggestions too.
I can hear the pinger going off constantly. She's pushing it over and over. "Bitch?" She calls down the asile. I'm guessing she means me since I'm the only attendent between the food carts and her. Oh joy, here I go.
"Maurice, I'll make her drink." I pull out the fixings and the little whisky bottle and make her drink quickly. "Be right back." He nods understandingly. I don't know what else to do.
I reach her seat and hand her the drink in a plastic cup. I've even eased up on the ice to give her more. "'Bout damn time bitch." She admonishes me. "What's you name? I'm gonna complain about the service on this plane. It sucks."
I squat down to her level in the asile. "I'm Samantha Evans. Ma'am, you are going to have to stop cursing and quiet down. You are disturbing everone around you. You have your drink now...Please." I want to read her the riot act, but I've been as PC as I can be. I try to remember all of our training on how to deal with unruley passengers; getting down to their level is one.
"Fine now you get me moved up to first class like you did that man that was next to me." orders in a hateful tone.
"Ma'am, there are no more seats anywhere. Please just enjoy your drink and we'll have the food cart here in just a few minutes." Like you need any more food. I admonish myself for thnking that, but damn I need release too.
"You ain't gonna move me up there and move that pussy white guy back here?"
"No ma'am, I can't.
"Well fuck you then." She tosses her drink in my face.
For a second, no more than two I squat there in disbelief. She has thrown her drink in my face. It was full and is dripping down on my blouse. Hell an ice cube is in my bra. I rise up and slap her right in the face...hard.
It's like the whole world around me goes into slow motion. I can sort of hear the passengers who've witnessed this take in their breaths, and then a few actully clap and cheer. I'm aware that Maurice is climbng over the food cart on the arms of nearby seats to get to me. 21C is as stunned as I am I think. I can't believe what I've done. A part of me knows the woman deserved it, but another part of me knows I have just broken the unbreakable rule. I've just struck passenger. I'm gone.
In the blur that follows Maurice helps me back to our area behind the restrooms and has me sit on a jump seat. "Just wait here Sam, I've gotta move the cart." He leaves me to my misery.
Oh god what have I done? I hit a passenger. Yes she deserved it but it's my life I ruined. Damn, Damn! I look up and can see Maurice pulling our cart down the asile. Beyond him Jazeman and Glenn are pulling their's to the side at the center door area. I see Savanna heading my way. Oh shit.
"What did you do Samantha?" She asks as she whisks into the rear galley.
I'm crying now. Shit, I hate feeling weak. I hate crying like a girl. "I slapped her. I'm sorry." I slobber. "She threw her drink in my face...I lost it I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
She doesn't seem mad, more resigned I suppose. She knows what this means for me. "Get yourself together Sam. We still need you to get this flight finished. We'll take you up front and I'll come back her with our problem."
At that moment Captain Plaser sticks his head in the galley. "You all okay?" He asks.
"All okay." Savanna replies. "Or as okay as we're gonna be." She adds, I suspect for my benefit.
As I try to compose myself I can see the Captain hovering over 21C. He's above her and speaking quite stearnly. While I can't hear what he's saying I can imagine the threat of police meeting the plane in Charlotte is in there somewhere.
Ten minutes later Maurice escorts me to the front past our now quiet Jabba the Hut. I help Jazeman deliver snacks and meals to the front half of coach. Savanna found a spare shirt for me since mine was soaked. I changed in one of the restrooms. It doesn't fit but, it's dry. I try to keep my smile on. I feel like shit, but the show must go on. I guess I'll have plenty of time in the coming weeks to figure out the rest of my life.
Chapter 1
Two Months Later
“Good luck Sam.” Lacy’s words to me as she left the apartment early this morning echo in my mind as I park my car in the multi-level garage on South College near the BB&T Center. It’s time for another interview. This will be the third since my fall from grace two months ago. I’ve interviewed at two other airlines, both would have involved my moving to another city, but what choice do I have? Yep, I need all the luck I can muster. Both of the other airlines turned me down. Despite my good record it all came down to that one split second decision, no wait; it wasn’t a decision. I didn’t think; I just reacted spontaneously. Whatever, I’m without a job and this is probably my last shot at a flight attendant position. My savings are running out, and I’ll need to do something else if this doesn’t pan out.
Lacy and Parker Dodson, my other roommate have been so good about everything. They’ve encouraged me, helped me type resumes, you name it. Still it all comes down to this one. As I walk out into the street from the elevator I look up. Charlotte is a major city. Downtown, at least this part is all tall buildings, people and cars...everywhere. I’m looking for the Barkley Tower, another tall building near here. It’s named for the company I’m interviewing with, Barkley Architectural. It seems they have their own business jet and are looking for a flight attendant. I’d never considered cooperate aviation, but at this point I’ll take anything. It intrigues me that a small jet would even need an attendant, but these are high rollers I suppose.
I see it now. A large Brownish Red building rising into the clear February sky. The two blocks I have to walk make me wish I had worn slacks instead of this skirt. Hose don’t keep the cool wind off my legs very much. Still, I recognize I need to look my best. It’s actually not a bad day if you took away the wind it would be beautiful even. The upper fifties by this afternoon the forecast said. Finally I arrive and as I see myself in the reflection of the glass on the revolving door I realize I need to tidy up before I make my way to the twenty fifth floor. Barkley Architectural uses the top floors of their building for their headquarters. I head for the nearest restroom on the ground floor.
Jeez, my hair didn’t survive the wind walking here. I attempt to put it in order with a brush from my purse. It’s red and often has a mind of it’s own despite hair spray or other futile attempts I make to tame it. I wear it to my shoulders because when it’s right, it actually can look good. Most days a pony tail or some other means of attaching it back on my head will have to do. I find a couple of clamps and secure the mess to the side. Okay, maybe they’re not called clamps but I’ve always been a geek so that will have to do. If flight attendant school hadn’t had a grooming class and a wizard at the art of making raw material like me look acceptable I probably never would have set foot in an airplane. I would have scared the customers away.
There. Now I look more presentable. There’s a full length mirror in this up-scale restroom so I check everything before I go up. My skirt is straight, my hose have no visible holes (give me a few hours). The dark blue heels are not scuffed. They hurt my feet though after that hike. I remove my jacket and my dark red blouse is also intact still. I didn’t even miss a button. Wow. I put the black jacket back on. I think I look pretty darn good considering. A quick check of my lipstick and I’m off.
The elevator stops at the twenty fifth floor and the doors open into the most impressive lobby I’ve ever been in. Three sides are glass looking out over the Charlotte cityscape. Wow, I am impressed. From here I can even see Panther’s Stadium. I think you could watch a game from up here. Front and center is a reception desk with two absolutely beautiful blondes behind it. Their dresses are exceptional. I wouldn’t even know where to buy something like that...probably couldn’t afford it either.
“Hi, I’m Samantha Evans to see Logan Farthing. I have a ten o’clock appointment.”
“Ms Evans, of course. Have a seat over their and someone will out shortly to take you back.” Blond number one who speaks has one of those glorious southern accents that speak of sophistication and breeding.
“Thank you.” I reply and make my way over to the tastefully decorated sitting area. I note the sofas and chairs are placed so you can look one way out at the city or the other way to see if anyone is coming for you. Well thought out, but then this is an architectural firm. I understand they built this building not just as a headquarters but as a testament of the kind of work they do. I get this information from the handy little “What We’re All About pamphlet on the coffee table in front of me.
I’ve only been sitting a few moments when a lovely dark haired young lady arrives. “Ms Evans? I’m Becky Koontz, Mr. Farthing’s secretary. Won’t you follow me?”
“Thank you.” I reply and get up and follow. I love her red dress. All of the women here dress very nicely. Shortly we arrive at an office area and she takes me directly to Mr. Farthing’s door. She opens it. “Ms Evans is here sir.”
“Good, good. Send her in.” I hear from around the corner. I go in and shake hands with Mr. Farthing. He seems to be fortyish, an inch or two taller than my five seven. He has a bit of gray around his temples and has a mustache. “Welcome Ms. Evans, have a seat.”
“Please call me Sam...for Samantha, everyone does.”
“Sam then. So you’re the black balled flight attendant?” He says as he sits behind his desk.
My mouth kind of drops at his right out of the box assessment of me which confirms that he knows all about me. Not that I lied on my resume, but I didn’t say why I was looking for a new job either. “Okay...I see you’ve done your research.” I’m not sure I should have said that or said it that way, but that’s what comes out of my mouth.
“Don’t worry about that Sam. If we weren’t interested in you you wouldn’t be here.”
“Oh, okay, well thank you.” That’s a relief, I think.
“Tell me a little about yourself. How’d you decide to be a flight attendant?”
“Well, I grew up in Lynchburg, Virginia. My best friend from middle and high school and I both went to Central Virginia Community College because we didn’t have a clue what we wanted to do. We got to fly to Miami once and she fell in love with the idea of being a flight attendant. It looked like a cool job so we both applied and were accepted. We went to the school and then to work.”
“And she still works for the airline?”
“Oh yes, we’re roommates here in Charlotte.”
“No boyfriends or marriage plans in the works?”
“No, no boyfriend at all. We work, we sleep, we work some more. Haven’t met anyone interesting enough.”
“Sam, we’re a billion dollar family owned company. We have projects all over the country and few overseas. Our cooperate jet is busy all of the time and usually it’s our CEO riding in it to oversee all of these projects. He travels on it, he uses it as his office and he needs not just a flight attendant to see to the needs of the plane but to also be his secretary away from home so to speak. While you’ll be doing all of the things you were doing at the airline, albeit to a smaller group; you’ll also find yourself behind a computer handling correspondence from the plane while on the ground, even going out to have copies made. You’ll get to know Kinkos in numerous cities.”
I’m a little amazed. This sounds like more than I’ve imagined. “Okay, this sounds interesting.” I’m not sure what to say. It doesn’t sound like anything I can’t do, it’s just so much more than I’ve done before.
Perhaps sensing it’s a little more than I was expecting he continues. “Sam, I’m sure you had no idea what all this job entails, but I believe you can do it. I’ve looked at your resume, talked to CVCC up in Lynchburg. They were impressed with you. You did well there. I’ve spoken with the airline, you did well there too. Except for that one unfortunate incident you’d still be there. I think you’ll find that this is all that and more. I think you will come to really enjoy this job and most of all I think you’ll be good at it.”
“Whew. Well thank you. I mean I hope so. Yes I want it. It sounds wonderful.” My mind is processing it all. He sounds like he wants me and the added responsibilities make it a little scary. What if I can’t do all of that. I mean work with the CEO? Wow.
“Here’s what will happen. If you are hired you’ll be sent out to Wichita for a week. Cessna will train you on the Citation X. Show you all the safety features, give you the class. You pass that and you’re back here and going to work the next Monday. We have two pilots assigned to the jet, and if one of them is off, you’ll see me there flying it. You’ll report to this office. We’ll be on the phone a lot I’m sure. What do you say?”
“Yes.” I blurt out. I’d love to do it.” I’m ecstatic. This one looks really good.
“Okay. I have one other applicant to interview, this afternoon in fact. I can tell you I really like you for the job, but again this fellow has passed all of our screening too, so we’ll see. I should be in touch with you by then end of the week.”
“Oh that would be so wonderful. Thank you. Thank you so much.” I rise and gather my purse.
“I think I can assure you that you won’t have any customers who’ll throw drinks in your face here.” He says smiling.
“Good. I won’t have to whack’em then.” I smile back. I know that was probably not the thing to say, but I can tell he takes it as the joke it was meant to be.
As I leave his office I’m almost on cloud nine. There’s still the other applicant, a guy. I can cross my fingers, pray, everything. I need this position. I want this. This seems like such a cool company. At the elevator I’m joined by a guy, I guess in his thirties. He’s in gray slacks, a white shirt, the sleeves rolled up, no tie. Is he going up or down? He’s hot. Okay maybe I’m just in a good mood. I don’t usually notice guys, but this one is hot. I already thought that didn’t I?
