I had the weirdest dreams ever last night. Er, this morning while I kept hitting snooze. They were seriously crazy, and I woke up feeling very strange and out of sorts. I wish I could remember more than vague snippets and the feeling I woke up with.
I love my clinic. (I was going to write doctors office, but I didn't know if it should be doctors or doctor's or doctors' and after a good 45 seconds of debating, I erased it and went with clinic. And then told you all about my dilemma anyway.) You can always get an appointment that day if you really need one and you call in the morning. I scheduled my physical a week and a half ago, and had it today, with my regular doctor. I never have to plan months ahead to try to get in for an appointment. And I was only in the waiting room for about a minute before they called my name. My Dr-Lady is very nice and sweet, and we talked about the fact that I did not move to Arizona as planned and that my wedding was called off and she asked how I was coping, and she always encourages me to call her office anytime I might have a question or concern or anything, and her hair is adorable. She's very gentle with the lady-part-invading, and I've just been very pleased with her. Even though I have stubborn veins and they had to call in someone special from the lab to take my blood, and even though they keep telling me I'm only 64 inches even though I always say I'm 5'5", I really just love my clinic.
The last time they did blood tests, I had high cholesterol. Was it a fluke? Is it genetics? Was I just eating far, far too much McDonald's? We'll know in a couple of days, because they've stolen my blood for testing again. I hope I pass this time. I've really been trying.
Speaking of McDonald's, I've once again given it up for Lent. And bacon.
I like to eat Subway at the airport if I have a lot of downtime between flights. I usually get a BLT. What will I get at Subway for the next month and a half? And how will I survive the fact that the bar I sit at faces McDonald's?!
Why do I even love McDonald's so much, anyway? One of these days, I'll finally realize how disgusting it is and give it up for good. One of these days.
I'm either very brave or exceedingly stupid. This thought occurred to me earlier, as I drove through the inches of new and still-falling snow just to satisfy my NEED to shop. More recently, it occurred to me that this statement is valid in more than one area of my life.
I mean, look at my job. I'll wait. ............ Seriously, I must be crazy! Who subjects themselves to being thrown into the air with 50 other people in a tiny metal tube over and over and over again? Who does that?!
I do love it, though.
Also, I did a very good job at satisfying my shopping craving for the next couple of months. It's been months (since April or May) since I bought a new pair of jeans. I've gotten some sweaters, but really, I just really wanted to wander around a store for awhile. I tried earlier today, but the snow scared me into going home. But this evening, when I was pretty confident the plows were going through, and visibility had vastly improved, I tried again. What can I say, I'm a trooper. I meant to hang out with my cat, actually, but I stopped at Kohl's, and got stuck there for HOURS browsing and trying things on. Then I went to Target, the one right by my sister's house, and thus right by my cat. But then I came home. I still miss my little furball. But I guess I'll have to wait a few more days to see her.
Anyway, I think my point was, I bought two pairs of jeans, four sweaters, the awesomest headband ever, five pairs of socks, a pair of underwear, a magazine, some just-add-water foodstuffs, a season of Friends, and maybe even some other things I'm forgetting, for under a hundred bucks. God I'm the best bargain shopper ever.
I have to leave my house at 5.30 in the morning. I guess I should probably go to bed.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Crazy Cat Lady.
I hope to never actually become the crazy cat lady (though it is a distinct possibility), but tonight, I'm here to tell you that I was once the crazy cat girl.
I have always, for as long as I can remember, loved cats. LOVED. But my mom is allergic, and I never could convince her to take allergy meds for me, so I was never able to have a real one. (Except that one time when Tiger lived on our porch in Texas [and sometimes snuck into mom's sewing room] for six months because when we got home one night he was curled up in our driveway and mom said "D don't run over the cat!" and then we couldn't not feed him and give him milk and love him and play with him, until mom got too overwhelmed and miserable and we gave him to our neighbors Roy and Lorraine instead, who always had red hots that I could eat whenever we went over to their house.)
Anyway.
I loved cats. And you know, when you have a friend or family member who loves a certain thing, or collects a certain thing, you buy that thing for them, right? So people bought me cats. Figurines and statuettes and stuffed animals and posters and shirts, oh my. I bought myself posters from book sales at school, and books and calendars and anything else cat-related that struck my fancy.
In fourth grade, my teacher had a cat-a-day calendar. Whoever said the pledge of allegiance that day got to have the cat picture. Almost everybody gave me their pictures. And I kept them all. In a little box. Next to my books of pictures of cats, next to my ceramic cat with kittens, next to my cat music box that played "My Favorite Things," next to the cat candle holder, next to the hollow cat curled up in a basket that I put potpourri in.
My room was covered in posters of cats hanging tough and having sweet dreams or just playing around with a ball of yarn.
Like I said, crazy cat girl.
I have since gotten rid of most of these things. Not all. But most. I still have a few posters folded up somewhere, and some of the more meaningful figurines. I have one stuffed animal in particular, Whiskers, who I will never, ever get rid of. And seriously, somewhere I may or may not still have that little box full of calendar pages.
But now, ladies and gentlemen, now I have a cat. My very own cat, with fur and claws and angry ears and the cutest little nose. She's so soft, and so purriful, and so cuddly, and she's amazing. For a short while, I had two lovely little cats all my own, but let's not go there right now. The point is, I have a cat, and I love her so much it's ridiculous and makes me think that my heart may actually explode when/if I ever have actual babies of my own and she is my pride and my joy and I miss her every day that I'm away (which is most of them, seeing as how I'm often at hotels, and seeing as how even when I'm not at hotels, she lives with my sister, and I do not).
She was totally worth the years of being the crazy cat girl.
Yep, totally worth the wait.
I have always, for as long as I can remember, loved cats. LOVED. But my mom is allergic, and I never could convince her to take allergy meds for me, so I was never able to have a real one. (Except that one time when Tiger lived on our porch in Texas [and sometimes snuck into mom's sewing room] for six months because when we got home one night he was curled up in our driveway and mom said "D don't run over the cat!" and then we couldn't not feed him and give him milk and love him and play with him, until mom got too overwhelmed and miserable and we gave him to our neighbors Roy and Lorraine instead, who always had red hots that I could eat whenever we went over to their house.)
Anyway.
I loved cats. And you know, when you have a friend or family member who loves a certain thing, or collects a certain thing, you buy that thing for them, right? So people bought me cats. Figurines and statuettes and stuffed animals and posters and shirts, oh my. I bought myself posters from book sales at school, and books and calendars and anything else cat-related that struck my fancy.
In fourth grade, my teacher had a cat-a-day calendar. Whoever said the pledge of allegiance that day got to have the cat picture. Almost everybody gave me their pictures. And I kept them all. In a little box. Next to my books of pictures of cats, next to my ceramic cat with kittens, next to my cat music box that played "My Favorite Things," next to the cat candle holder, next to the hollow cat curled up in a basket that I put potpourri in.
My room was covered in posters of cats hanging tough and having sweet dreams or just playing around with a ball of yarn.
Like I said, crazy cat girl.
I have since gotten rid of most of these things. Not all. But most. I still have a few posters folded up somewhere, and some of the more meaningful figurines. I have one stuffed animal in particular, Whiskers, who I will never, ever get rid of. And seriously, somewhere I may or may not still have that little box full of calendar pages.
But now, ladies and gentlemen, now I have a cat. My very own cat, with fur and claws and angry ears and the cutest little nose. She's so soft, and so purriful, and so cuddly, and she's amazing. For a short while, I had two lovely little cats all my own, but let's not go there right now. The point is, I have a cat, and I love her so much it's ridiculous and makes me think that my heart may actually explode when/if I ever have actual babies of my own and she is my pride and my joy and I miss her every day that I'm away (which is most of them, seeing as how I'm often at hotels, and seeing as how even when I'm not at hotels, she lives with my sister, and I do not).
She was totally worth the years of being the crazy cat girl.
Yep, totally worth the wait.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Can you say deja vu?
I'm currently stuck in Rochester, New York with the EXACT SAME PROBLEM as yesterday. "Engine oil. Engine oil. Engine oil."
I seriously thought (or maybe just hoped) that my pilots were playing a joke on me when I heard that this morning. And then I had a passenger get up to use the lav.
I just hope it doesn't take me as long to get to my overnight tonight. I am exhausted.
Though on the plus side, I did get to eat a McDonalds breakfast burrito this morning. So I guess that's something.
I seriously thought (or maybe just hoped) that my pilots were playing a joke on me when I heard that this morning. And then I had a passenger get up to use the lav.
I just hope it doesn't take me as long to get to my overnight tonight. I am exhausted.
Though on the plus side, I did get to eat a McDonalds breakfast burrito this morning. So I guess that's something.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Seriously.
Remember at the end of my post yesterday when I said, and I quote, "5:00am shuttle to the airport. Ugh. But only two legs, should be in for our overnight at noon. Hopefully the crew will go to Dinosaurs for some eats. Yum."? And remember, before that, how I was telling you that I don't even know what a schedule is? Here's how today went:
4:00am -- alarm. Ugh. Wake, pack, dress, blah blah blah.
5:00am -- shuttle. Security. Gate. Ask about passenger load: full 50. Pre-flight, paperwork, board passengers, smile pretty, announcements, bins, bags, close door, safety demo, sit down, let's go.
Sometime after that: I'm sitting in my jumpseat, waiting for them to give me the signal that we're about to head down the runway. Wait. Wait. Sometimes I can hear things from the flight deck, like chimes, or like their computers telling them things. I hear, "Engine oil. Engine oil. Engine oil. Engine oil. Engine oil." It just keeps going. I look at the four passengers in my front row to see if they can hear it. I wait to see if the flight deck will call me and let me know what's up. The sound stops, and still we don't move. Wait. Wait. A passenger gets up to use the lav (why?! WHY would you do that?! But that's a rant for another day, to be accompanied by my seatbelt diatribe.), so I call the flight deck to let them know. "Ok," says Ken, "we won't be moving anywhere for awhile anyway. I don't know if you heard that engine oil warning but.. that's not good." Ha, ok. Wait. Wait.
Sometime after that: Captain comes on the PA, announces we're going back to the gate.
Sometime after that: Get back to gate. Wait for jetbridge operator. Wait for jetbridge. Ok guys, at this time please deplane and take all your belongings with you. Wait. Wait. Talk to pilots. Sit. Talk to pilots. Maintenance guys turn plane, and thus my heat source, off. I go inside. Sit. Play with ipod touch. Wait. Talk to captain, find out we have no idea how long it's going to take, so feel free to wander. Avoid passengers' glares (not my fault, guys, seriously!). Buy chocolate milk. Find empty gate, sit in full sunshine. Wait. Wait. Play with ipod touch.
Sometime after that: Get paged back to gate. Hurried gate agent lets me back down, tells me nothing. Talk to pilots, find out we're not actually ready to go at all, the station agents are just crazy, and in a hurry to get us (and our passengers) out of their hair. I sit down in a seat in the cabin, play with ipod touch. Passengers start boarding. Uhhh, what? Put on professional face. Oh, hi, welcome back onboard! I'm so sorry, they didn't warn me we were going to start boarding, let me just get out of your way.
Board passengers. But captain says we're still not ready to go, doesn't know why agents decided to board. Wait. Wait. I only have 19 passengers instead of 50 now. Cool by me, fewer people to get mad at me for all the waiting (seriously, so not my fault!). Wait. Announcements from pilot: still waiting, guys. Passengers kind of laugh, whatever, they'll deal. Try to stay away from FREEZING COLD BOARDING DOOR with WIND. Wait. Deliver water service to poor waiting passengers. Wait.
Sometime after that: At last! The last of the paperwork arrives and is in order. Close door, announcements, demo, etc. Take off, at last! Beverage service, sit. Talk to passengers. Refill beverages. Descent announcement from flight deck; prepare cabin for landing. Collect garbage.
New announcement from flight deck: Hey guys, we've been put into a holding pattern. Detroit is down to one runway at the moment [thanks to high crosswinds or somesuch, apparently], they're telling us it's gonna be about 40 minutes.
Stunned incredulity. I don't even care that that's redundant.
Laugh. Tell passengers they can continue to use the electronic devices I've already told them to turn off. Thank them profusely for their patience, apologize. Wait. Wait. Sit. Wait. Watch for any sign from flight deck.
Some time after that: At last! We've been taken off our holding pattern, cleared for landing.
Announcements, descend, land. "Ladies and gentlemen, the words you've waited very long and very patiently to hear: Welcome to Detroit!" Arrive near gate, wait for ramp agents to park us. Wait. Wait. Agents! Park. Open door. Wait for jetbridge driver. Wait. Wait. At last! All is well. Let passengers deplane, at long, long last.
This flight was supposed to leave at 6am. It left at 9.43am. It was supposed to land at 7 something and continue on its merry way to Rochester, New York, where we were to land at 11.47am and overnight. It landed at 1.10pm.
My crew and I then deadheaded to Rochester (meaning, flew as passengers at the direction of the company) at 3pm, landed at quarter to five, and then had to wait 40 minutes for the hotel shuttle to come pick us up.
I did end up getting to go to Dinosaurs, though, which was good. And I sat in first class while deadheading, which is always nice. I hate working first class, but boy do I love riding in it.
What a fucking day.
4:00am -- alarm. Ugh. Wake, pack, dress, blah blah blah.
5:00am -- shuttle. Security. Gate. Ask about passenger load: full 50. Pre-flight, paperwork, board passengers, smile pretty, announcements, bins, bags, close door, safety demo, sit down, let's go.
Sometime after that: I'm sitting in my jumpseat, waiting for them to give me the signal that we're about to head down the runway. Wait. Wait. Sometimes I can hear things from the flight deck, like chimes, or like their computers telling them things. I hear, "Engine oil. Engine oil. Engine oil. Engine oil. Engine oil." It just keeps going. I look at the four passengers in my front row to see if they can hear it. I wait to see if the flight deck will call me and let me know what's up. The sound stops, and still we don't move. Wait. Wait. A passenger gets up to use the lav (why?! WHY would you do that?! But that's a rant for another day, to be accompanied by my seatbelt diatribe.), so I call the flight deck to let them know. "Ok," says Ken, "we won't be moving anywhere for awhile anyway. I don't know if you heard that engine oil warning but.. that's not good." Ha, ok. Wait. Wait.
Sometime after that: Captain comes on the PA, announces we're going back to the gate.
Sometime after that: Get back to gate. Wait for jetbridge operator. Wait for jetbridge. Ok guys, at this time please deplane and take all your belongings with you. Wait. Wait. Talk to pilots. Sit. Talk to pilots. Maintenance guys turn plane, and thus my heat source, off. I go inside. Sit. Play with ipod touch. Wait. Talk to captain, find out we have no idea how long it's going to take, so feel free to wander. Avoid passengers' glares (not my fault, guys, seriously!). Buy chocolate milk. Find empty gate, sit in full sunshine. Wait. Wait. Play with ipod touch.
Sometime after that: Get paged back to gate. Hurried gate agent lets me back down, tells me nothing. Talk to pilots, find out we're not actually ready to go at all, the station agents are just crazy, and in a hurry to get us (and our passengers) out of their hair. I sit down in a seat in the cabin, play with ipod touch. Passengers start boarding. Uhhh, what? Put on professional face. Oh, hi, welcome back onboard! I'm so sorry, they didn't warn me we were going to start boarding, let me just get out of your way.
Board passengers. But captain says we're still not ready to go, doesn't know why agents decided to board. Wait. Wait. I only have 19 passengers instead of 50 now. Cool by me, fewer people to get mad at me for all the waiting (seriously, so not my fault!). Wait. Announcements from pilot: still waiting, guys. Passengers kind of laugh, whatever, they'll deal. Try to stay away from FREEZING COLD BOARDING DOOR with WIND. Wait. Deliver water service to poor waiting passengers. Wait.
Sometime after that: At last! The last of the paperwork arrives and is in order. Close door, announcements, demo, etc. Take off, at last! Beverage service, sit. Talk to passengers. Refill beverages. Descent announcement from flight deck; prepare cabin for landing. Collect garbage.
New announcement from flight deck: Hey guys, we've been put into a holding pattern. Detroit is down to one runway at the moment [thanks to high crosswinds or somesuch, apparently], they're telling us it's gonna be about 40 minutes.
Stunned incredulity. I don't even care that that's redundant.
Laugh. Tell passengers they can continue to use the electronic devices I've already told them to turn off. Thank them profusely for their patience, apologize. Wait. Wait. Sit. Wait. Watch for any sign from flight deck.
Some time after that: At last! We've been taken off our holding pattern, cleared for landing.
Announcements, descend, land. "Ladies and gentlemen, the words you've waited very long and very patiently to hear: Welcome to Detroit!" Arrive near gate, wait for ramp agents to park us. Wait. Wait. Agents! Park. Open door. Wait for jetbridge driver. Wait. Wait. At last! All is well. Let passengers deplane, at long, long last.
This flight was supposed to leave at 6am. It left at 9.43am. It was supposed to land at 7 something and continue on its merry way to Rochester, New York, where we were to land at 11.47am and overnight. It landed at 1.10pm.
My crew and I then deadheaded to Rochester (meaning, flew as passengers at the direction of the company) at 3pm, landed at quarter to five, and then had to wait 40 minutes for the hotel shuttle to come pick us up.
I did end up getting to go to Dinosaurs, though, which was good. And I sat in first class while deadheading, which is always nice. I hate working first class, but boy do I love riding in it.
What a fucking day.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
I don't even know what a schedule is.
Some people have a routine. They get up at the same time every day, they go to bed at the same time every night. They work out (I don't even know what that means!). They have a standard work schedule, a time when they can expect to be home every day.
I have no such thing. At all. Not even a little bit. Some days I wish I had a schedule, and some days I think it would bore me terribly. For now, I'm just happy doing what I'm doing.
Would you like a taste? Here's this trip:
Day 1 (Yesterday. I was going to write what day that actually was, but I have no idea.):
4:00am -- alarm, at home. Snooze, get up, breakfast, shower, sit, dress, take Tylenol and Sudafed, sit, make-up/hair, grab bags, leave.
6:10am -- report time to airport. Supposed to be in crew room, am getting through security. No big deal, though. Go to crew room. Check mailbox. Rejoice that my missing apron has found its way back to me (complete with all the money in the pocket, yikes!). Check memos.
6:40am -- report to gate. Find out how many passengers I have (oh, full? Fantastic.). Pre-flight my plane. Put my stuff away. Liquor paperwork. Board passengers. More paperwork. Announcements. Get beverages for pilots. Close door. Safety demo. Let's go. Sorry folks, I'm feeling shitty, no full beverage service for you this morning, let me know if you'd like anything. Walk through cabin. Get drinks.
Sometime after this, my flight ended. I did my post-flight walk-through, went into the lav to blow my nose, and threw up. Fun. I came back out of the lav, a ramp agent was waiting in the aisle, asked if I was ready to board. Thirty seconds later, I was smiling and greeting new passengers, hoping my breath was okay.
Sometime after that, that flight ended. Had a two-hour break in MSP. Puked. Got tea. Burnt tongue. Tea didn't taste good anyway, threw it out. Sit. Sit. Try to doze. Try to compose. Ooop... bathroom, more puking.
Then I had another flight. Same as above.
2:30pm -- arrive at hotel for overnight.
Nap.
5:00pm -- ate a can of peaches, tentatively. They stayed down. Watched American Idol. Took break to walk next door to McDonalds, got double cheese, coke, and a mcflurry. All miraculously stayed down. Hoorah food! Hoorah calories!
10pm -- bedtime.
Day 2 (Today. Seriously, what day is it?):
4:40am -- alarm. Snooze snooze, get up 5.10. Shower, dress, pack bags, go downstairs. Grab a banana for breakfast. Bite... omg it tastes good. Rejoice!
6:00am -- shuttle to airport. I like walking around the ramp to get to the plane. Makes me feel fancy to be allowed to walk around down there. [Ramp = the outside areas of the airport.]
6:20am -- report time. Already on plane. Pre-flight, paperwork, put stuff away, blow nose, sanitize hands. Board passengers, close bins, do more paperwork, get beverages for pilots, make announcements, get ready to close door, get told by captain we're not ready to close door. Wait. Wait. Wait. Captain says he's on the phone with maintenance. Wait. Tell passenger who called me I'm not sure what the hold-up is, I'm waiting to hear from the captain. Signal back and forth with J, the station manager guy who I always see here. He mimes choking the captain for the hold-up. I laugh. Finally figure out there's a maintenance problem. Deplane passengers or no? Wait. Wait. Don't deplane. Wait. Give them option to deplane; half do, half stay. Wait. Oop, the rest have to deplane now. Everyone off! Get off plane, go to bathroom (no puking! Rejoice!), buy poptarts. Back on plane. Wait. Ready to reboard, hoorah!
8:30am -- depart. Supposed to depart at 6:50. And it appears we lost two passengers off our flight. Ah well, the easier for me to do a beverage service! Do beverage service. Sanitize hands constantly. Prepare for landing. More announcements. Finish paperwork.
9:37am -- arrive in MSP. Supposed to arrive at 8:09, and supposed to have five more legs. Day's not supposed to end until 8:30 pm. Talk to crew scheduling, get new schedule: One more leg for the day, same plane, take it to Des Moines, spend the night. Rejoice! Stay on plane, cross seat belts, sit, relax, wait.
10:20am -- Des Moines flight. Beverage service. Slight delay. De-ice. Make friendly talk with nice grandma in row 1, going to take care of her almost-three-year-old granddaughter while said granddaughter's parents are working and staying with grandson in hospital. Deplane, walk-through, cross seat belts. New crew boarding already, grab stuff, don't forget apron!
12:00ish arrive in hotel for overnight. Rejoice!
Then till now: Undress, and quickly. Get this uniform OFF of me! Redress in street clothes. Feel much better. Blow nose. Turn on computer. Take out paperwork so I don't forget to do it later. Fo. Internet. Fo. Eat poptart, drink Pepsi. Peruse Bennigan's menu.
Sometime in the near future: Order room service.
All day: Be filled with sass and happiness. Not only did I only have to work two legs instead of six today, but I feel a thousand times better than yesterday, I'm loving my hair today, and I love the shirt I decided to pack for this trip. Sass and happiness my friends, sass and happiness.
Tomorrow:
5:00am shuttle to the airport. Ugh. But only two legs, should be in for our overnight at noon. Hopefully the crew will go to Dinosaurs for some eats. Yum.
Seriously, though, I can't believe how much happier and better I am today than yesterday. No puking, not as much snot, no constant light-headedness. It's awesome. AWESOME.
I have no such thing. At all. Not even a little bit. Some days I wish I had a schedule, and some days I think it would bore me terribly. For now, I'm just happy doing what I'm doing.
Would you like a taste? Here's this trip:
Day 1 (Yesterday. I was going to write what day that actually was, but I have no idea.):
4:00am -- alarm, at home. Snooze, get up, breakfast, shower, sit, dress, take Tylenol and Sudafed, sit, make-up/hair, grab bags, leave.
6:10am -- report time to airport. Supposed to be in crew room, am getting through security. No big deal, though. Go to crew room. Check mailbox. Rejoice that my missing apron has found its way back to me (complete with all the money in the pocket, yikes!). Check memos.
6:40am -- report to gate. Find out how many passengers I have (oh, full? Fantastic.). Pre-flight my plane. Put my stuff away. Liquor paperwork. Board passengers. More paperwork. Announcements. Get beverages for pilots. Close door. Safety demo. Let's go. Sorry folks, I'm feeling shitty, no full beverage service for you this morning, let me know if you'd like anything. Walk through cabin. Get drinks.
Sometime after this, my flight ended. I did my post-flight walk-through, went into the lav to blow my nose, and threw up. Fun. I came back out of the lav, a ramp agent was waiting in the aisle, asked if I was ready to board. Thirty seconds later, I was smiling and greeting new passengers, hoping my breath was okay.
Sometime after that, that flight ended. Had a two-hour break in MSP. Puked. Got tea. Burnt tongue. Tea didn't taste good anyway, threw it out. Sit. Sit. Try to doze. Try to compose. Ooop... bathroom, more puking.
Then I had another flight. Same as above.
2:30pm -- arrive at hotel for overnight.
Nap.
5:00pm -- ate a can of peaches, tentatively. They stayed down. Watched American Idol. Took break to walk next door to McDonalds, got double cheese, coke, and a mcflurry. All miraculously stayed down. Hoorah food! Hoorah calories!
10pm -- bedtime.
Day 2 (Today. Seriously, what day is it?):
4:40am -- alarm. Snooze snooze, get up 5.10. Shower, dress, pack bags, go downstairs. Grab a banana for breakfast. Bite... omg it tastes good. Rejoice!
6:00am -- shuttle to airport. I like walking around the ramp to get to the plane. Makes me feel fancy to be allowed to walk around down there. [Ramp = the outside areas of the airport.]
6:20am -- report time. Already on plane. Pre-flight, paperwork, put stuff away, blow nose, sanitize hands. Board passengers, close bins, do more paperwork, get beverages for pilots, make announcements, get ready to close door, get told by captain we're not ready to close door. Wait. Wait. Wait. Captain says he's on the phone with maintenance. Wait. Tell passenger who called me I'm not sure what the hold-up is, I'm waiting to hear from the captain. Signal back and forth with J, the station manager guy who I always see here. He mimes choking the captain for the hold-up. I laugh. Finally figure out there's a maintenance problem. Deplane passengers or no? Wait. Wait. Don't deplane. Wait. Give them option to deplane; half do, half stay. Wait. Oop, the rest have to deplane now. Everyone off! Get off plane, go to bathroom (no puking! Rejoice!), buy poptarts. Back on plane. Wait. Ready to reboard, hoorah!
8:30am -- depart. Supposed to depart at 6:50. And it appears we lost two passengers off our flight. Ah well, the easier for me to do a beverage service! Do beverage service. Sanitize hands constantly. Prepare for landing. More announcements. Finish paperwork.
9:37am -- arrive in MSP. Supposed to arrive at 8:09, and supposed to have five more legs. Day's not supposed to end until 8:30 pm. Talk to crew scheduling, get new schedule: One more leg for the day, same plane, take it to Des Moines, spend the night. Rejoice! Stay on plane, cross seat belts, sit, relax, wait.
10:20am -- Des Moines flight. Beverage service. Slight delay. De-ice. Make friendly talk with nice grandma in row 1, going to take care of her almost-three-year-old granddaughter while said granddaughter's parents are working and staying with grandson in hospital. Deplane, walk-through, cross seat belts. New crew boarding already, grab stuff, don't forget apron!
12:00ish arrive in hotel for overnight. Rejoice!
Then till now: Undress, and quickly. Get this uniform OFF of me! Redress in street clothes. Feel much better. Blow nose. Turn on computer. Take out paperwork so I don't forget to do it later. Fo. Internet. Fo. Eat poptart, drink Pepsi. Peruse Bennigan's menu.
Sometime in the near future: Order room service.
All day: Be filled with sass and happiness. Not only did I only have to work two legs instead of six today, but I feel a thousand times better than yesterday, I'm loving my hair today, and I love the shirt I decided to pack for this trip. Sass and happiness my friends, sass and happiness.
Tomorrow:
5:00am shuttle to the airport. Ugh. But only two legs, should be in for our overnight at noon. Hopefully the crew will go to Dinosaurs for some eats. Yum.
Seriously, though, I can't believe how much happier and better I am today than yesterday. No puking, not as much snot, no constant light-headedness. It's awesome. AWESOME.
Monday, February 9, 2009
A brief moment.
We eventually decided it was time to leave the coffee shop. We got up and walked outside, and both started heading in opposite directions, toward our respective cars. So we paused, looked back, said our goodbyes. He squinted and gave me that look, and asked, "Awkward to hug, or not awkward?" I shrugged, said eh, opened my arms for a hug, and my mind went blank.
I don't know that I've ever experienced such a moment, with no thoughts at all. I didn't even breathe. I didn't try to memorize the moment, I didn't try to think about how it was making me feel, I didn't even register the feeling of his arms around me. I was holding back tears, but not thinking about holding back tears. For those seconds, I was just existing.
I patted his back, let go, and turned away from him before I had to see his face again, just it case it would send my tears over the edge, just in case my eyes were getting red. I started walking away, he said he'd call me next time he's in town, which would probably be June. I looked back, smiled and said ok, and waved.
Even after I got in my car, I didn't cry. Not one tear. Perhaps I've finally shed enough over him.
I don't know that I've ever experienced such a moment, with no thoughts at all. I didn't even breathe. I didn't try to memorize the moment, I didn't try to think about how it was making me feel, I didn't even register the feeling of his arms around me. I was holding back tears, but not thinking about holding back tears. For those seconds, I was just existing.
I patted his back, let go, and turned away from him before I had to see his face again, just it case it would send my tears over the edge, just in case my eyes were getting red. I started walking away, he said he'd call me next time he's in town, which would probably be June. I looked back, smiled and said ok, and waved.
Even after I got in my car, I didn't cry. Not one tear. Perhaps I've finally shed enough over him.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Ctrl + D
I am obsessed with this website. I check it daily. I commiserate, I laugh, I smirk knowingly, I feel glad that some of them aren't me. I feel like some of them are me, like they were thoughts taken straight out of my head. (One of them is. But you'll never guess which.) I wish that some of them were him. I pray to god some of them aren't.
I find myself writing little blurbs like this in my head, all the time. To him, to strangers, to pilots, to imaginary boys who date me, to boys I don't date. Sometimes they're not even true, I just like the way they sound. I could write my own entire book of these things by now, and the site hasn't even been around that long.
Perhaps this obsession is not quite a healthy thing. But I can't stop. I can't look away. I can't not click on that bookmark. At least it's healthier than booze, eh?
That's all. I just wanted to spread the love. The Dear Old Love.
I find myself writing little blurbs like this in my head, all the time. To him, to strangers, to pilots, to imaginary boys who date me, to boys I don't date. Sometimes they're not even true, I just like the way they sound. I could write my own entire book of these things by now, and the site hasn't even been around that long.
Perhaps this obsession is not quite a healthy thing. But I can't stop. I can't look away. I can't not click on that bookmark. At least it's healthier than booze, eh?
That's all. I just wanted to spread the love. The Dear Old Love.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
A sampling of my thoughts on a typical work day:
No, I'm sorry, I do not have a garbage on my tiny cart. Isn't it impressive enough that I can fit enough soda and juice to quench the thirst of an entire plane full of people, not to mention a couple bottles of water, coffee, an assortment of cream and sugar, snacks, napkins, cups, and ice? I'll come back through to get your cup in a few minutes.
How important are you that you can't stand to be away from your laptop for our TWENTY-FIVE minute flight? The flight deck never chimed me, which means we never reached an altitude where it was safe for you to be using it anyway, which means I never even made the announcement telling you you could turn it on in the first place. So kindly turn it the fuck off. Oh you're saving? That's fine, I understand. Oh yeah, my computer is slow too. But uh... I told you this was a 25 minute flight. Why even turn it on if you know it's so slow?
Oh yay! I much prefer hotels with hangers with abnormally small hooks to hotels with those stupid non-hangers, designed not so much to be useful as to be unstealable. I hate those things. The metal is always old and makes my teeth hurt. Hooray for tiny-headed hangers!
I don't get why they don't just leave the luggage rack set up. I'd really like to know the reason behind putting it away. I'd be much more likely to use it (as opposed to simply putting my dirty, beat-up roller bag on the extra bed) if it were just there, waiting for me in all its wobbly glory.
Seriously, why do I always get the Flintstones theme in my head before take-off? It makes no sense.
Wow, I'm angry a lot, aren't I? I'm actually probably the smileyest flight attendant you've ever had. I keep the anger and general incredulity in my head only.
I think I would've made a good actress.
How important are you that you can't stand to be away from your laptop for our TWENTY-FIVE minute flight? The flight deck never chimed me, which means we never reached an altitude where it was safe for you to be using it anyway, which means I never even made the announcement telling you you could turn it on in the first place. So kindly turn it the fuck off. Oh you're saving? That's fine, I understand. Oh yeah, my computer is slow too. But uh... I told you this was a 25 minute flight. Why even turn it on if you know it's so slow?
Oh yay! I much prefer hotels with hangers with abnormally small hooks to hotels with those stupid non-hangers, designed not so much to be useful as to be unstealable. I hate those things. The metal is always old and makes my teeth hurt. Hooray for tiny-headed hangers!
I don't get why they don't just leave the luggage rack set up. I'd really like to know the reason behind putting it away. I'd be much more likely to use it (as opposed to simply putting my dirty, beat-up roller bag on the extra bed) if it were just there, waiting for me in all its wobbly glory.
Seriously, why do I always get the Flintstones theme in my head before take-off? It makes no sense.
Wow, I'm angry a lot, aren't I? I'm actually probably the smileyest flight attendant you've ever had. I keep the anger and general incredulity in my head only.
I think I would've made a good actress.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
No direction, no subject, no title.
I had to go to a training session on Saturday, to learn some new policies and procedures for our new post-merger flights. Let me leave it at this: I love my current company a lot. I dislike many of the things we will soon be required to do. So far, I'm not such a fan of the company we will be.
I'm incurably lazy. I've had a bunch of days off in a row now, with the slight interruption of a few hours of training, and I have this to-do list a mile long. And yet, I have done almost nothing off of said list. I did get to hang out with friends, which is nice, because the constant travel of my job makes that hard sometimes. But laundry? Cleaning? Rearranging? None of it got done. Perhaps next week, when I have days off. Perhaps not.
Yesterday I ate sushi and went on a bunch of rides at Camp Snoopy. Er.. the park formerly known as Camp Snoopy. Nickelodeon Land or whatever it is now. The colors are slightly offensive to my eyes, but the rides were fun, though a bit brain-rattling.
I've gone over to the dark side. I succumbed. I bought an ipod touch. (Don't judge, I knew I'd give in.) I'm in love, addicted, enthralled. I downloaded a Shakespeare app that is pretty much the complete works of Shakespeare in the palm of my hand. Who needs a Sony Reader when you've got an ipod touch?
My taxes are done, sent in, being processed. Awesome. I feel so on the ball. The day I sent them in, I also did some paperwork for my health insurance and got that squared away. Some days I feel very much like a responsible adult.
Other days... not so much.
I really want it to be summer. I'm sick of winter. We had a nice day the other day, with sunshine and temps in the high 30s/low 40s. It was amazing. This week, it's back to barely above zero, with even lower windchills. I just want sun and warmth and lush green grass. And perhaps other things that come with summer.
I have much to say, but no reason to say it. No one to say it to. No way to say it right. I just need to see.
My ipod keeps unsetting its correct date and time. It goes to random time zones, like Chicago and Houston (though, at least those are still at the same time as Minneapolis), but then it tells me that it's 8.43 am on December 27th instead of 5.04 pm on February 2nd. Why would it do that? What is it trying to tell me?
I'm incurably lazy. I've had a bunch of days off in a row now, with the slight interruption of a few hours of training, and I have this to-do list a mile long. And yet, I have done almost nothing off of said list. I did get to hang out with friends, which is nice, because the constant travel of my job makes that hard sometimes. But laundry? Cleaning? Rearranging? None of it got done. Perhaps next week, when I have days off. Perhaps not.
Yesterday I ate sushi and went on a bunch of rides at Camp Snoopy. Er.. the park formerly known as Camp Snoopy. Nickelodeon Land or whatever it is now. The colors are slightly offensive to my eyes, but the rides were fun, though a bit brain-rattling.
I've gone over to the dark side. I succumbed. I bought an ipod touch. (Don't judge, I knew I'd give in.) I'm in love, addicted, enthralled. I downloaded a Shakespeare app that is pretty much the complete works of Shakespeare in the palm of my hand. Who needs a Sony Reader when you've got an ipod touch?
My taxes are done, sent in, being processed. Awesome. I feel so on the ball. The day I sent them in, I also did some paperwork for my health insurance and got that squared away. Some days I feel very much like a responsible adult.
Other days... not so much.
I really want it to be summer. I'm sick of winter. We had a nice day the other day, with sunshine and temps in the high 30s/low 40s. It was amazing. This week, it's back to barely above zero, with even lower windchills. I just want sun and warmth and lush green grass. And perhaps other things that come with summer.
I have much to say, but no reason to say it. No one to say it to. No way to say it right. I just need to see.
My ipod keeps unsetting its correct date and time. It goes to random time zones, like Chicago and Houston (though, at least those are still at the same time as Minneapolis), but then it tells me that it's 8.43 am on December 27th instead of 5.04 pm on February 2nd. Why would it do that? What is it trying to tell me?
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