Adventures in Flight: The Blue Room

Fifteen years ago I became a flight attendant and began a new career in the skies of the world. I have always loved flying and have had a fascination with aviation since I was a small boy. My eyes always turn upwards when I hear the roar of a jet airplane overhead. The thrill I felt was obvious and in those early days of internet, I would write my friends and family about my new adventures flying hither and yon around the world, so blue.

At one point, I asked if anyone had any questions for the new flight attendant in their life. I always interrogated pilots I met about how things worked and what their work life was like. I just assume everyone is as excited about flying as I am. I think I had only one question, from a very good friend of mine who had recently moved to Chicago. She asked me about the lavatory.

Also known as the blue room, a reference to the royal blue color of the water that flushes the toilet, the lav is a unique place on an airplane. It's only a step above a porta-potty and I try to avoid using it as the oval office at any cost- only in emergencies. Many flight attendants carry their own air freshener to combat the assortment of odors that emanate from within one. And here is a tip for those times you just have to have a seat: use the seat covers to line the bowl to prevent anything untoward (poo) from sticking and not washing down. There's nothing worse than going in and finding claw marks from the person ahead of you.

My friend, Sue, wanted to know when flight attendants used the lavatory, as she apparently had never seen one do so. Silly girl. When we receive our wings, we become gods. Using the lavatory is no longer a necessity. I wish! I do refer to those who don't have a career in the skies as mortals, but we certainly do use the lavatory on airplanes. Elsewhere, too.

It's funny, but to this day, some 15 years later, I still think of this question whenever I slip into one. The things our mind holds onto. (Don't tell her I think of her every time I'm in there!)

After takeoff

The short answer is that we get up out of our jump seats before the seat belt sign is turned off. One of the reasons, besides getting ready for the service, is to jump in the lavs before the line forms, going up the cramped aisle. Some of the women also need to change their shoes; off with the heels and on with the work flats. Some of us wear smocks. So this is the time, when the mortals are still required to remain seated, for us to get in there and get situated before we get inundated with the passengers. It's why you may hear a stern warning if you're up before the sign goes off, “Um, hello, the seat belt sign is on, see the little seat belt symbol all illuminated? Yes, so turn around and go back to your seat and wait for us to use it first!” 

The same goes for landing. The seat belt sign comes on for several reasons. Yes, as we pass through cloud layers into in the arrival city to which is our destination, we tend to encounter more turbulence. But we also need to have access to the aisles to conduct our safety checks, run paperwork to the purser in first class, and have a moment to use the lavs once more before landing. No one wants to encounter the rare emergency landing with a full bladder! Imagine the horror of being on the nightly news after having evacuated an aircraft with a huge wet stain on your pants.

“Yes, Steve, as you can see, we have another case of fearless flight attendants who were just doing their job, evacuating everyone safely, with no injuries to report. Here is one such brave flight attendant, who seems have to wet herself in the process. Well, back to you in the studio.”

Approach into EWR

So do as your parents taught you, use that time before the boarding process begins, and use the rest room before you board the aircraft and give us a chance to do our thing before you have to do yours. And be careful about you ask a flight attendant. You may ruin a good memory of yourself! (Just kidding, Sue!)

Passenger of the Day: Mary or Caesar; What's in a Name?

Catering on an aircraft can always be spotty. I've yet to tour the kitchens and catering facilities, but I know from watching them board the aircraft that it must be quite a performance to stage everything, load it into our serving carts, strap them into the back of the lift trucks and transport them to the plane.

After boarding, one of the first things a flight attendant will do besides safety checks is to begin checking the carts and ovens for catering items. Of utmost importance are the crew meals; certainly for us, but also for the pilots. There are certain people I know, and I won't name any names, but you know who you are, who get a little grumpy when hungry. Neither we nor our passengers like a grumpy pilot!

The catering truck arrives.

Often we are missing items. Some, we can make due without. Others, we have to call for, such as missing meals, which is why we have to check our catering items first. It's the times we get items out of the ordinary that make the day more exciting.

It's not uncommon to see wine glasses from other airlines, and from time to time, I've even found glasses from rail service! I've seen napkins from other carriers, as well. More common, yet, are sodas from other countries. Coke Lite from China? Sure, why not.

Recently, I was in Canada on a nice layover. We started our day checking our catering in the aft galley. Everything was there and things were going fine. We performed our first service, picked up the cabin and had a few minutes to enjoy our crew meal and relax before setting things up for our second service.

My flying partner set up the cart and noticed an odd can in one of the bins from the back of the supply cart. Rob pulled it out and read it aloud, “Clamato.”

“Huh?” I asked.

“They gave us Clamato juice. Two cans. The Canadians love Clamato. This must be from Air Canadianland. It's made with clam juice. I'm going to show Seela.” Seela was our purser, working up in first class. Rob went up and returned a few minutes later with the can. I finished my meal and as I put the tray in the trash cart, he opened the can to give it a try. He made a sour face, waited a minute while looking towards the ceiling, and took another sip. “Nah, I don't like it,” he reported.

I grabbed a cup and also gave it a try. It was very salty, but not bad. It certainly wasn't something I'd drink on it's own. “It'd be great in a bloody Mary,” I told him.

We continued setting up the cart and I found another can of Clamato in my bin, as well as a can of regular tomato juice I'd never seen before. We served our passengers the drink of their choice, and as we neared the last few rows, I heard a woman ask Rob for Clamato. As he was pouring it, the lady next to me says, “I would like a Clamato.” I'm thinking, good grief, what's with all the Clamato?

“See?” said Rob, “They love it.”

Catering knocks and checks for visual confirmation of a disarmed door.

As I poured the lady's Clamato juice, I informed her that we normally don't have it and that I've never seen it before. In fact, I had only just tried it. She said that she had seen Rob carrying it, so assumed we were serving it. She asked if I'd had a Caesar before. “Well, I know who Caesar is...a very smart talking ape,” I told her.

“What?” My Planet of the Apes reference went over her head.

“Never mind. Are we talking about a drink?” I asked.

“Yes, it's a great drink, I love them.”

I asked her to tell me more about this... Caesar. “You salt a rim, use Clamato juice, vodka, celery salt and...” I interrupted her.

“A bloody Mary?” I asked.

She had never heard of a bloody Mary. I told her how much I loved them with pickled okra. Rob interjected at this point his dislike of okra...too slimy. 

“I never liked Rob,” I joked to her. We all laughed.

Rob showed her a can of spicy tomato juice- the one we normally serve. She was intrigued, so he opened it to give her a taste. She liked it, but not as much as her Clamato. He wound up buying her a vodka, so that she could contrast and compare, making a bloody Mary and a Caesar. I brought her a packet of pepper, saying, normally I like mine spicy with a dash of hot sauce, but this should help. She liked that even more. I also informed her that if she wanted, she could use tequila instead, but that's called a bloody Maria. She thought that was cute.

In the end, we had made her day with a simple can of Clamato and a chance to try a bloody Mary. Thanks to a little catering mistake and receiving a few cans meant for another airline, I made a new friend on our flight from Canada.

Planes at SFO

Passenger of the Day: A Good Little Boy Scout

A plane flies over Chicago

The plane started to bounce a bit in the middle of the sky. I looked out the window to see only a few scattered white clouds in the distance, then I returned to my reading. The purser passed by, heading back to first class. He stopped for a moment at my row, not to talk to me, but to the man seated in the aisle across from me.

“Excuse, me, sir,” he said to the man in a white shirt and gray hair, who looked a bit like Barney Frank, the Massachusetts congressman. He looked up at the purser over the rims of his black glasses, surprised someone was talking to him, “for safety, we need to have your arm rest down.” The purser gently pushed the arm rest back into position and continued on his way. The man looked over at me briefly, and then went back to his Sudoku puzzle. It was a completely forgettable experience.

After three minutes, my neighbor fidgeted, put down his puzzle and pen, looked around and then reached up to press the flight attendant call light. I wondered what he was up to. We were seated at the exit row, so we were closer to the front galley, and sure enough, the purser returned. He was short, stocky, had graying brown hair and smiled as he approached. He turned off the call light illuminated over the man's head, bent down and asked how he could assist.

The Barney Frank lookalike asked the flight attendant if he could see the manual where it states that his arm rest must be down. This is what he was fidgeting about? He wants to see the manual? I couldn't wait to see how the purser would handle this guy. I knew right then that I was seated across the aisle from my passenger of the day!

Narrow aisles

“I'm sorry, sir, but we're not allowed to share our manuals with passengers,” he told him. “But if it helps, they need to be down to keep passengers from falling out of their seats when the plane encounters turbulence, and I feel that right now the plane is at risk since it's been bumpy. It's also more difficult for passengers to move up and down the aisle if a bunch of arm rests are up, as it gives a few inches less clearance.”

Spot-on, Mr. Purser! I was afraid he might actually acquiesce and show this man the manual.

The man across the aisle returned, “Well, can I know the page number where it states this? I'm a good little boy scout and I like to follow rules, but I just want to see it for myself.”

A good little boyscout? Likes to follow rules? Really? A good little boyscout would have just said yes, sir, and that would have ended it right there.

The purser replied, “Well, you can write to Mother Airline. My name is Jeff, with two 'Fs' and you can mention that I'm the purser on this flight. They can discuss with you the various FAR's.”

I do the same thing; 'make sure you get my name right so they know I'm doing my job'.

The boy scout picked up his pen and wrote down Jeff's name and “FAR”, asking what that was (Federal Aviation Regulation). He then told Jeff that this was the first time he'd ever been told this and he always flies with the arm rest up. Jeff told him, “Well, I may be a bit more into safety than most. They are only supposed to be up for egress of passengers.”

“Egress?” Mr. Boy Scout asked.

“Yes, if a passenger is immobile, it's to assist in getting in and out of the aisle seat. That's why the button is hidden in the back of the arm rest instead of being in plain view.” Mr. Boy Scout then wrote down the word 'egress'.

If you could hear my eyes roll, he surely would have.

Jeff excused himself to return to the first class cabin and Mr. Boy Scout continued writing notes. In light of things going on in the news of late, why did I have a feeling I'd be reading about this? “Flight attendant calls man disabled and won't allow the use of the moveable arm rest, more at eleven.” But the thought circling my head was more about how he seemed to have a hard time being told what to do by the authority of the cabin. The purser is the lead flight attendant of the flight, after all, and every rule is there for a distinct reason. He's made a request for safety and Mr. Boy Scout had to grill him, even taking notes, when having that reason explained.

He returned to his Suduko puzzle for a moment, and then stood and wrestled around in the overhead bin. He pulled out a small camera, knelt down and took a few photos of the seat and the arm rest. I was simply amazed. One of the flight attendants from the back saw this and asked him what he was doing. “I just need a photo of my seat.”

Inside an A320

He was a nice man and had been making small talk with yet another flight attendant on board, sharing information about cologne, which I also thought very odd. Men don't normally ask other men who they don't know about their cologne and then offer a napkin with a sample sprayed on it, as Mr. Boy Scout did. Was he hitting on the male flight attendant?

Mr. Boy Scout never said another word to the purser, even when Jeff later came through the cabin to pick up trash. The man seemed cold to Jeff, but jovial to the rest of the crew. He obviously had a problem with authority and didn't like Jeff telling him what to do. Falling out of your seat is bad, and could hurt others, as well. But the skies can be full of selfish passengers who are only concerned for themselves and their own needs. I can only hope Mr. Boy Scout isn't as selfish as appearances can lead one to suspect, and I'm happy he kept the arm rest down for the rest of the flight.