Day 56 - More Flying

Image by mauren veras, via Flickr

I spent most of yesterday in airplanes or in airports waiting for my next airplane. So I saw a lot of people, inspiring stories of what brought these particular people together at that particular time and place. Lots of fodder for future 365 Project pieces.

But the person who left the biggest impression on me is someone with whom I spent the shortest length of time: the flight attendant on the 20-minute flight from Los Angeles to San Diego. I can't quite put my finger on it, but something about her just rubbed me the wrong way.

The first event that drew my attention to her was when the woman across the aisle asked for an extender. Now I will admit that I had no idea what she meant by the word, but then, I don't work for an airline. The flight attendant also looked at the woman as if she had just spoken to her in Greek, so the woman clarified that she wanted an extender to the seat belt so that she could hold her child on her lap during take-off. Now that the attendant seemed to understand. Her response: "Oh, no, we don't have such a thing. That is not allowed. That just isn't possible. The child will have to sit in his own seat." And she hurried away down the aisle.

That seemed funny. If there is no such thing as a seat belt extender, why would the woman ask for one? Maybe other airlines provide them? Or maybe they are available on larger model planes? The attendant's response didn't ring true.

Then we moved into that portion of the flight when the attendant rattles off what to do in the unlikely event of a water landing and so on. Usually I can sleep through those speeches, or recite along with the speaker. They are so predictable and boring, except on Southwest Airlines when they are stand-up comedian-worthy. But this attendant had a tone to her voice that came across condescending. I wanted to get up and punch her. I am not sure I could replicate her intonation pattern. It was a little sing-songy, with her intonation rising and falling in an exaggerated pattern, like a kindergarten teacher reading a fairy tale to her class. Really, really annoying,

The flight was so short, that we barely got off the ground before she was back on the public address system telling us to shut down all electronic appliances, bring our seat backs into the full and upright position and return the tray tables to their locked positions. And that is where she irritated me yet again. Apparently not everyone paid close enough attention. She was back on the system again in a few seconds to repeat herself after first stating that apparently not everyone had heard her the first time. This time the sing-songiness came with a slight giggle that she seemed to think softened the edge. It didn't.

I closed my eyes as the plane began its descent so I didn't see her when she came up behind me. I just heard her say to bring the seat back up. I turned around and told her I had never lowered my seat. She laughed, OK maybe it was a nervous giggle, as she pointed to the man in the seat next to me to say he was the one who hadn't returned his seat to the upright position. Now I hadn't talked over my impressions of Ms. Attendant with my seat mate; he seemed quite comfortable in his own bubble. His reaction to her appeared consistent with mine however. He said nothing. But his eyes did. Ms. Attendant did all the seat adjusting while reaching over me, giving me a more up-close look than I wanted.

By this time, I thought there was little more she could do to add to my impression of her. But I was wrong. The plane was on the ground. The captain had reminded us to keep our seat belts fastened until he had turned off the sign. Most of us were following directions well, just like well-behaved kindergarten children. But then I heard her voice once more over the loud speaker. "Keep that child in his seat." It wasn't a suggestion.