Chapter 7
The rest of the briefing goes without drama, and with a little prompting from her colleagues, Chantelle correctly answers all her questions. Walking to the aircraft from the briefing room is one of my favourite parts of the job. I love the buzz of the airport.
A queue at one of the overpriced coffee outlets snakes around several corners.
It ends with a lady with a pink ponytail and pinstripe suit talking animatedly into a mobile.
A mixture of business folk on their way to close important deals, and stag parties flying out for a week of cheap beer and punch-ups in the Costas and Eastern Europe, queue up to board their flights.
At duty free a group of men wearing Adam’s STAG t-shirts with their own surnames printed on the back are buying bottles of vodka – I feel sorry for the crew who has to put up with them.
My phone vibrates in my pocket.
Hey are you OK? I’m so sorry about last night. I promise you I was on my way
15:20
I decide not to reply. Another message pings through as I lock the screen.
Olly4U:
I got delayed. My brother got a little worked up and I couldn’t leave him straight away. I got there and I could see you, I shouted for you. You were wearing a green coat. I was running to the taxi as you drove off
15:20
CallumSUB:
You stood me up because you had to look after your little brother?
15:21
Olly4U:
He’s my older brother, and I swear I didn’t stand you up, I was there
15:22
CallumSUB:
I’ve heard a lot of excuses but babysitting your older brother when you’re in your 40s is taking the piss.
15:22
I hold down the power button and wait for the screen to go black, then slide my phone into the front pocket of my crew bag which is in the overhead locker.
Back at my workstation I pick up the interphone and press INTER followed by the number 1.
A hi-lo chime rings through the cabin and Ivy answers at the other end.
‘Ivy, door one left.’
‘Callum, door four right, safety and security checks complete, ready for boarding.’
‘Understood.’ Ivy says and hangs up, then follows our brief exchange with an announcement telling us that the cabin is ready and we’re to go to our boarding stations.
To keep the airline’s cost down we’re on a remote stand, meaning the travellers must be bussed over from the terminal to the aircraft. Typically, it’s a wet and windy day, so the passengers will already be disgruntled by the time they reach the top of the aircraft steps.
Jason is working alongside me at the back of the plane.
A fellow Mancunian who has clocked up enough air miles to fly to the moon and back a thousand times over.
Ten years older, 5 inches taller, and a hundred times camper than me.
The cabin is his stage and the customers his audience; they love him.
He comes to take his boarding position next to me at the rear left door.
‘What’s wrong with your face?’ Jason, unlike his walk, doesn’t mince his words.
‘Nothing, just a bit tired.’
‘Oh yes, and whose bed have you crawled out of?’
My eyes pop out as I double take at the sight of a passenger climbing off the bus from the terminal.
‘Fuck,’ I say, spotting Derek who is now making his way up the stairs, his perfectly toned boyfriend by his side.
‘I’m guessing that’s what you did but who was the victim?’
‘Him.’ I nod in the direction of Derek. I want the ground to swallow me up, or the passing fuel truck to burst into flames to create a distraction whilst I jump into a running engine of a passing aircraft.
‘Afternoon, can I see your boarding passes please?’ I ask Derek, deciding to pretend I don’t know him.
‘This is the man I was telling you about.’ He turns to speak to his boyfriend whose abs are nearly slicing through his tight blue muscle-fit shirt.
‘I thought you said he was slim,’ his partner says, who I now assume is the biggest prick in the whole of Manchester.
His words make me breathe in.
‘Ladies please, can we have the inflight entertainment after take-off?’ Jason adds.
’You’re in 33H & I, on the aircraft right next to the window,’ I inform the open couple.
‘I know, we can read,’ comes the dickhead’s response.
Derek and the prick continue past me and disappear up the second aisle.
‘No wonder you look like shit if you were riding Gandalf all night,’ Jason whispers into my ear between a chorus of Welcome Onboard to the boarding passengers.
‘He’s not that old and it wasn’t last night, it was the night before, Welcome Onboard.’
‘You don’t deny you rode him like Sea Biscuit. 28A and B, next to the window on the left.’
‘That is vulgar. Yes, you can use the toilet no problem, the light will come on when you lock the door. But he was hung like a horse.’
‘Was it any good. Straight down on the left.’
‘Will you shut up.’ I give a sigh. ‘Could this day get any worse?’
‘Oh, hello boys!’ Jason shouts to a group of men climbing towards us up the aircraft steps wearing Adam’s STAG t-shirts.
Ivy’s voice thunders over the PA system, ‘Cabin crew, boarding complete.’
I step into the galley, open the latches on a galley stowage, take out a passenger bread roll, and shovel it into my mouth.