Chapter Fifteen Claire #2
I pull out my electronic flight attendant device.
In the airlines, we refer to it as an EFAD, but it’s simply an iPhone that contains all our flight information, announcements, and the entire company manual.
We’re required to keep it charged and log into the app for each flight, though upon takeoff and landing, we stash it under a thigh so our hands are free to assume brace position.
I thought this weird at first, like pouring juice into a trash bag, though now I find myself sliding my own phone underneath my thigh every time I sit.
Anyway, I need it now to look up cart configuration.
The service manual provides a photo of how to set up the top of the cart with cups, napkins, coffee, and other essentials such as tea bags and creamer.
This isn’t something they teach in training, and it takes me a ridiculously long time to dig through the various bins to find everything.
Finally I push my way up the aisle to start with business class.
I smile triumphantly at the guy who’d refused, as predicted, to put his phone in Airplane Mode. He’s on his computer now. “May I get you something to drink?”
He doesn’t even glance over. “Cranberry juice. With ice.”
“You got it.” In my mind, I’m hydrating him to help him keep prisoners behind bars.
I grip a plastic cup, which is way too slick and lightweight to grip easily. Did the airlines test market these things for safety? Oh well. It’s not as if I haven’t sprayed someone with juice before.
I’ll fill the cup with ice first so there’s some weight to keep it in my hand when pouring cranberry juice. Brilliant. I’m getting the hang of this.
I tug open the ice drawer and reach for the ice scoop. There isn’t one.
We had ice scoops when I worked first class. Oh wait. I’d had to dig it out of the supplies drawer. I missed my chance to do that this time.
Do I press the attendant call button for Larry to come stand with my cart while I run to the back, or should I take the cart all the way down the aisle to do it myself?
The passenger finally turns to look at me for the first time, though it’s to convey annoyance. Hey, buddy, I waited longer than this for you to turn off your phone.
I guess I could just use another cup as a scoop.
“You need anything?” Larry surprises me from the other side of my cart. He’s holding a garbage bag, so he must be finished with his service and cleanup.
I will never complain about working first class again the way I did on my trip with Desiree. It’s evidently not about position but about experience.
“I forgot my ice scoop,” I answer meekly.
Larry grips both sides of the cart like he’s placing it under arrest. “I’ll wait here.”
“Thank you,” I breathe.
I turn and jog up the aisle to dig madly through my supply bin. Hopefully, this is the only thing I forgot.
By the time I return, Larry has handed out snacks to the first three rows. He’s putting me and the phone guy to shame by doing both our jobs at the same time—serving snacks and keeping the world a safer place.
And that’s how it goes for the rest of the flight. By the time we’re supposed to prepare for landing, I don’t even worry about where anything goes. I just shove all the supplies into random cubbies with the intention of figuring it out later.
I’m barely in my seat before turbulence hits.
Nothing worse than when driving a pickup on a bumpy road, but I’m still relieved to be buckled in.
I double-check all the red latches on the bins and carts.
Should I miss one, I’d have to submit a report about breaking an FAA regulation to protect myself from termination.
Worse, a cart could roll down the aisle and bust someone’s kneecap. Or so I’ve heard.
Finally, we’re on the ground. I follow passengers down the aisle, checking bins and seats for any items left behind, then sigh in relief. I have an hour to relax before doing all that again.
Nathan enters through the main cabin door, his gloved hands brushing snow off his jacket shoulders. He stops directly in front of me, as if waiting for something.
I look up into his dark eyes in expectation of whatever joke he’s about to tell next.
“Go grab your bags,” he says.
I laugh, no idea where he’s going with this one. “Why?”
“We’re changing planes.” He actually appears serious—no twitching lips to give him away.
I study him closer. Is he just messing with me? If we’re really changing planes, I won’t get as long to relax. Also, I’d be leaving behind my mess for another flight attendant to deal with.
Larry steps behind him. “Let’s go. I still have time to grab an empanada.”
They’re serious. Oh no.
I retrace my steps to retrieve luggage from the middle of the plane, though I’m wondering if I have time to run to the aft galley and rearrange everything.
Vincent’s voice follows me. “Next crew is here.”
So that’s why we’re changing planes. Their flight must be scheduled before ours.
I don’t have time to clean up. I’ll just have to avoid eye contact with the next flight attendants out of shame.
The rest of the crew laughs and jokes along the way. I keep my head down as I enter the jet bridge, only peeking out from the corner of my eye for Mary Janes or possibly boots, because of this weather. I should really get myself some boots.
“Claire,” a female voice trills.
I look up to find Angel’s radiant complexion. She releases the hold on her carry-on to envelop me in a hug.
I soak it in. Then I remember why I’d been avoiding her gaze in the first place. I pull away but grip her shoulders. “Are you working aft?”
She giggles, then whispers, “No, I’m forward to be closer to the captain.”
I glance at the attractive guy with graying temples who’s shaking hands with Vincent and Nathan as if he knows them.
I guess being a Seattle crew, they’ve probably crossed paths before.
But is this the guy she was talking about dating?
He seems a little old for her. Like someone my mom might have had a crush on back in high school.
Angel squeezes my arm before pulling away. “I’ll tell you more later.”
“Okay. But wait.” I don’t release my grip on her shoulder just yet. “I worked aft for the first time on the way here, and I didn’t know where anything went. So I simply shoved it all back into carts. I’m very sorry.”
She waves a hand to erase my concern. “Don’t worry. We get catered in Denver. All those carts are going to be replaced anyway.”
I exhale in relief. And I look forward to the day when I’ve got it all together the way Angel does.
Her pilots board the plane. She bounces after them, then pauses to wave, and catches sight of Nathan. Her smile grows. She points—with two fingers because we’re trained to never point with only one. “Hey.”
Nathan steps beside me. “Hey, you recognize me?” he asks Angel.
They evidently remember each other, though Nathan doesn’t know her theory that he’s attracted to me. My shoulders bunch, and I bulge my eyes to warn her from saying anything embarrassing.
“Yes, we rode the shuttle together once.” She catches my look. “You should go down to the crew lounge on your layover. They’ve got a chili feed going on for Halloween this month. Pumpkin cake and everything.”
My shoulders sag. “Thanks.” I thank her for more than simply telling us about the cake in the crew lounge. To keep Nathan from sensing my double meaning, I add, “I hope it has cream cheese frosting. I love cream cheese.”
“It does,” she calls back.
“Perfect.” Nathan grins down at me. “Looks like you’re getting your birthday cake after all.”